too scientifically rooted to be uprooted even by the writer of a "Cosmos." Von Humboldt's early affiliations with the "son of the gods," Goethe, with Schiller, with the Weimar and Jena cliques, and with all the men of advanced thought; his relations with Niebuhr, Bunsen, Stolberg, Tieck, Varnhagen von Ense, Cornelius, Von Reumont and Strauss; and his high position at the Prussian court, where he was long chamberlain and intimate of Frederick William IV., assured a plenty of evidence as to his character and ideals. This evidence witnesses to one great fact; that high intelligence, and power of concentrative thought, and desire for knowledge do not necessarily ennoble man. The world's heroes have one terrible enemy-their own letters. Von Humboldt's correspondence and the reminiscences of contemporaries, as Janssen here interweaves them, present a sad though instructive picture of a great deformed mind. Believing neither in God nor in the immortality of the soul, he necessarily despised Christian morality, religion in general, Catholicity in particular, and political order. The revolution is the logical outcome of atheism; as dynamitism, nihilism and anarchy are the logical conclusions of the scientific philosophy of the Von Humboldts. All the weaknesses of the men of enlightenment the "prince of German culture" developed in a high degree. Victor Strauss described him as "a monster of hate." Prince Bismarck in a pleasant way tells of his insufferable egotism; his own letters are the witnesses of his duplicity. There is no reader of Janssen's brief sketch, who retains a shred of Christian belief, but will be tempted to exclaim with Edmond Jörg: "May God preserve us all from such culture, and most of all the princes and the great ones of the earth."

To this type of the atheistic German scientist of the century Janssen adds a type of the atheistic philosopher, in the person of that highly gifted half-madman, Arthur Schopenhauer; and thus brings to a close his study of the irreligious schools. Now and again some well-intentioned youth is carried away by what he imagines to be a more rationally constructive or destructive system of philosophy than any into which he has thus far had a peep. Indeed, the method of the schools where ideas are dealt with quite independently of persons, may be in somewhat chargeable for these mishaps. If the light-minded were led first of all to know the character and the practical life of the pretended philosophers, he would have some surer check on his own wandering mind. No sane man will deliberately seek wisdom from a fool, or a knave, or a sensualist. It seems improbable that any serious mind, knowing even as much about the great "Nihilist" as Janssen tells of him, could go to Schopenhauer's pages in search of the secret of life. After tracing his somewhat romantic story

from the cradle to the grave, his vagaries, the growth of his ideas, the development of his unlovely character, and the sources of his speculations, Janssen completes the study of this unhappy pessimist by an analysis of his teachings and a sketch of some of the peculiarities of those other lights of modern philosophy, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel and Feuerbach. It has been the fashion to abuse St. Thomas and the schoolmen; and they deserve abuse if these modern sophists are worthy of praise. Like the poets and preachers and scientists with whom we have just parted, they hate each other; and their personal relations and mutual criticisms suggest a wholly new conception of the "philosophic mind." If possible, they are more egotistic than their unprofessionally philosophical brethren. Witness Hegel, who began his lectures on logic in the summer semester of 1820, with the words: "I might say with Christ: I teach the truth and am the truth." The others had not said this, but certainly it was not because their egotism was above blasphemy. As atheistic and as immoral as Von Humboldt or Goethe, and more irrational in some respects than either of them, Schopenhauer, who “had no need of Christ," assumed that "he had lifted more of the veil than any other mortal before him!" That anti-Christian, like reformed, culture should sneer at the "superstition" which canonizes the pure, the patient, the ascetic, is not to be wondered at, when the same culture finds its incorporate ideal of a Saviour of mankind in Von Humboldt, and divinities worthy of a temple in Feuerbach and Schopenhauer.

The healthy, elevating influence of religion on science and literature is strongly brought out in Janssen's essays on Karl Ritter, the founder of the science of comparative geography; and on the Russian poet, Vasily Andrejevitsch Joukoffsky. Though educated in the school of Rousseau, Karl Ritter (1779-1859) felt the need and the worth of Christianity, and early turned away from the infidel thought by which he was encompassed. A life of patient, intelligent work, passed in the close study of nature and of men, was inspired by love for science directed to the honor of God. Contrasting his life and ideals with those of a Von Humboldt, the comparative pettiness of the ungodly scientist will force itself on all but the blind admirer. Like most non-Catholics of his and our time, Ritter had no true insight into Catholicity; and hence many of the misconceptions which he began to imbibe at the breast are set down as facts in his writings. So simple and honest a character could not knowingly have told untruths. It is, indeed, to be regretted that prejudice should have so rooted falsehood in systems of education that the best intentioned men are innocently made to violate the truth they so much love. Besides the moral

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lessons it conveys, this essay of Janssen's supplies many interesting facts about the progress of geographical science in Europe, and adds new details to the previous studies of German life at the beginning of the century. Ritter was a keen observer, with a wide experience of men; and from his letters much that is new may be learned about society in Frankfurt, Geneva, and Berlin, and about the standards of professors and students at the German universities.

Joukoffsky (1783-1852), the father of Russian romantic literature, leader of "Young Russia," patriot-poet, whose songs united a whole people, and who first gave Homer to the Russians in their own tongue, serves as fitting contrast to Goethe, or Schiller, or Voss. Deeply religious, filled with noble ideas about the true aim of poetry and the relation of art to morals, he was never untrue to his ideals. Constant in the endeavor to undo the work of the school of "art for art's sake," whose false notions have been so widely propagated among poets and people, he never tired of teaching that the aim of poetry was rightly to educate men, and not merely to please the imagination. The poet's motive, he maintained, should be sense of duty, not pay or fame. He gained both fame and honors. Maria Feodorowna called him to the court and appointed him instructor of the wife of the Grand Duke Nicholas, and of the young prince who, as Alexander II., the emancipator of the serfs, was to bear such strong testimony to the liberality of Joukoffsky's training. Neither life at court nor the flattery of the great altered his character or ambitions. "Faith, energy, patience "—in these he found the secret of a happy life. Just now the Russian novel is in fashion, and closely competes with the French article, whose filth makes it popular-to paraphrase Mr. George Saintsbury. The prophets of a school of false art, marked by a false realism and false sentiment, false morals, false politics and false religion, are Tourgenief, Dostoievsky, Tschernuiskevsky and Tolstoi, of whom a recent writer makes bold to say that "it would be hard to disprove that he had got closer to Christ's idea of life than any man since Christ's time!" A comparison of the work, lives, influence, and ideals of the new lights with those of the high-minded and Christian Joukoffsky, could only bring out in stronger relief his superior art, learning, merit, and genius. Literary men, young and old, may rather turn to him if they would seek a thoughtful, original, intelligent and ennobling companion or teacher.

In another group of studies on "Christian Carl Josias Bunsen;" "The Political and Ecclesiastical Views of the Prussian diplomats, Nagler and Rochow;" "Friedrich Christoph Dahlmann,” and “The Political and Religious Views of Frederick William IV.," Janssen

surveys the field of German politics and the political leaders from 1820 to 1860, and thus affords an opportunity of measuring the effect of irreligious thought in literature, science, philosophy, and religion, upon government. Whether under democratic or monarchical forms, the people are the willing or unwilling tools of those whom fortune, revolution, or the meaner arts of men have lifted into office. Now-a-days, the man who has been made according to an official pattern in the State school or university is simple enough to imagine himself an exemplar of reason uncontrolled and free thought. In a higher civilization this would seem surprising; but it cannot surprise any one who considers the present civilization of continental Europe, where even the soldier slave has been educated into the idea that he is a freeman. To be the subject of a government in which a Bunsen (1791-1860) played a leading part was to deserve commiseration. By turns a student, a preacher, a teacher, an unsuccessful diplomat, a romantic statesman, his one ambition was to make his own way. A rattle pate without religion, a great part of his life was spent in contriving pseudo-religious schemes, church reforms, creeds and rituals. Though he believed neither in Christ nor God, he was one of the leaders of evangelical thought, one of the founders of the “Evangelical Alliance," and a writer of prayer and hymn books. His idea of a church was that of a real Cæsaro-Papism; a political church under a Pope-King; a church controlled like the army and serving the same end-the security of the government. As great a prophet as Carlyle, he constructed a "Christianity," on whose adoption the future of religion depended. Pantheist, if anything, he was careful to qualify all his notions as Christian. He hated believing Protestants, for there were old Lutherans who opposed his teachings, and yet he was in one respect as Lutheran as Luther's self. Persistently, from the beginning to the end of his life he was an abusive hater of the Catholic Church. Whether in office or out of office, at home or abroad, he was ever active in attempts to injure "the old anti-Christ at Rome"; a real Popeeater, with an insatiable appetite. The anti-Catholic machine is well oiled these days, and worked by skilful hands. An insight into its management fifty years ago may be of service to the unsuspicious. Bunsen's masters, Frederick William III. and IV., felt their obligations as heads of a church organization, and dabbled more or less in matters of conscience affecting their Catholic and Evangelical subjects: The two kings saw that there was something wrong with Protestantism; but if they knew what was amiss with it, they were careful to keep it to themselves. They saw the family life weakened, the Christian tenets losing their hold, immorality spreading, so they concluded that there ought to be a

return to apostolic forms, a bishopric at Jerusalem, and missions in California! Frederick William IV. had a lively conception of the necessity and power of religion and a serious acquaintance with Lutheran Christianity. About Catholicity he was worse than ignorant; he was filled with the traditional false notions concerning it. Of the helplessness and decay of Protestantism he was strongly sensible. He attributed the power of the Church to its unity; he dreamed of a united Protestantism; but he saw that he was powerless to effect anything among ten thousand sects, when he could not even unite the churches of his own domain. A better prophet than Bunsen, he foresaw that in the near future the Church would make even more rapid strides than in the past, especially in the East. "It is, indeed, God's ordinance,” said he, "that truth should conquer in a beggar's clothes, but not in a fool's dress."

The politicians all felt the weakness of a divided Protestantism. Nagler, who held high office under the Prussian Government from 1824 to 1846, and who had no more religion than Bunsen, could not but lament that they were cut up into so many sects: "Lutherans, Reformed, Evangelicals, and all sorts of Pietists." But his regrets were only those of a hard-headed bureaucrat, whose whole life was haunted by the spook of Catholicity and those "devils," the Jesuits! Theodor von Rochow was not so easily frightened. He had studied the question more coolly, and came to the conclusion that "the Jesuits were less dangerous to Protestantism than its own theologians." Events have proved the correctness of his judgment as to the dangers Protestantism had to fear from its theologians; but we may better appreciate the grounds on which he based this judgment after reading "The Recollections of David Strauss," by William Nast, in the New Princeton Review for November, 1887. Mr. Nast was a fellowpupil of Strauss, at Tübingen. The acceptance of the students in theology depended, he says, on mental proficiency, without refere, ce to moral or religious considerations. In his class, Mr. Nast was "the only one who professed religion, in the sense of an experimental faith in the divinity and atonement of Christ." There was no spiritual instruction; and though the old and new Testaments were read in the original tongues, it was "not as the inspired word of God, not for edification and theological instruction, but as an exercise in linguistic criticism." The dangerous theologians of the eighteenth century had evidently made sure of worthy successors in the nineteenth; and, however dangerous the Jesuit may be to Protestantism, Rochow might well have greater fears of Baur and Schwegler, and Zeller, and Volkmar. As General in the Prussian army, and ambassador to Switzerland, Würtemberg and