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edly rendered a great service to the country, for which Mr. Sumner does not give him credit, in divorcing the federal administration and national politics from the business of banking.

Jackson was not a "statesman" in any proper sense of the word at all. He had almost no conception of the principles of government, and he had a furious and uncontrollable temper, which made it impossible for him to weigh evidence on any subject where personal antipathies were involved. He had, however, a blind belief in the future of the country, and in himself as a representative of it, which carried him through everything. He was, from the time of his early Indian fighting down to his retirement from politics, a despot; and his popularity came from his having an instinct for the kind of despotism the public wanted. He put down nullification in South Carolina, and removed the deposits from the bank, much as he hanged Ambrister and Arbuthnot in Florida. For law he cared nothing, and for law, during his time, the people of the United States cared little or nothing. The mob described by Adams were a frontier nation just begining to feel their power. The traditions of the revolution and of federalism had died out. The Supreme Court under Marshall had done its work; the United States began to be feared without being much respected abroad. It was the period for an adventurer like Jackson to make himself the idol of the country, and he did it, by trampling law under foot, or by trampling resistance to it underfoot, as suited the occasion, but at every step making the national sense of growing importance stronger.

Blauvelt's "The Present Religious Conflict."'* MR. BLAUVELT's small book is intended as a sample. A "formal volume," or, perhaps, several formal volumes on the " Religion of Jesus" and "Supernatural Religion" are to follow this; in the future volumes the author will unfold more fully his theories. In this one he contents himself with the endeavor to prove that a crisis in theological thought has arrived; that the current orthodoxy is untenable; and that “ a revision of the most revolutionary character" must be made of its fundamental doctrines. Mr. Blauvelt has strongly stated the objections to the received doctrines of inspiration, but he does not discuss the theory suggested by Professor Bruce and Doctor Newman Smyth, in which the Bible is treated as the record of the history of a people under special divine guidance. What answer he would make to this theory we cannot tell; possibly he might not dispute it. At any rate, he declares his belief that "the Bible contains, as well as professes to contain, an element which is in the form of a direct divine revelation." And, although he leaves us somewhat in the dark respecting his views of the nature of Christ, he strongly says: "It cannot be denied * * * that the Jesus of the synoptical Gospels was a most pronounced believer in the supernatural. This Jesus believed in miracles. This Jesus believed in the efficacy of prayer. This Jesus believed in special providences. This Jesus believed in special and divine revelations. And this belief of Jesus in the supernatural, the miraculous, is

The Present Religious Conflict. By Augustus Blauvelt. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons.

integral, inwrought, vital to his religious system" (page 120). When, therefore, he subsequently declares: "Our devotion to Jesus-the personal Jesus of history is so great, our confidence in his religious system is so complete, and our consecration to his service is so absolute, that we are perfectly resigned, not only to follow after him in life, but to share his fortunes after death" (page 161), we are left to conclude that Mr. Blauvelt, like Strauss, has still a religion left, although he is rather chary about confessing it, and, notwithstanding the fact that, so far as the present volume reveals his temper, he is more ready to pull down than to build up. However, it is not fair to make a final judgment on this tentative and introductory essay. It should be added that Mr. Blauvelt writes, apparently, with conviction and sincerity.

De Kay's "The Vision of Esther." THIS is a continuation of "The Vision of Nimrod " (reviewed in SCRIBNER'S MONTHLY for June, 1881). The specter of Esther, the priestess of the sunfane, appears to the Persian reformers and tells of her life as Nimrod's queen; her guilty passion for the highpriest Ahram; the cabals against the latter by Bitsu the eunuch; the madness of Nimrod; the ruin of the Tower of Babel and the plague in Babylon; Ahram's flight to the Mediterranean and his pursuit by Esther and Bitsu; the battle on the strand between fugitives and pursuers; and the final escape of Ahram, who sails away into the sunset. A third installment, to be entitled "The Vision of Ahram," will complete the series and will deal largely with America.

There is something impressive in the very size of Mr. de Kay's foundation plans; and the sincerity and boldness of the undertaking, on the part of so young a poet, ought to win sympathy from the generous reader. "The Vision of Esther" opens with the following invocation :

"Moon of the dusk, moon on the skirts of day,
Scimitar moon gemmed with the star of even,
Glad, as her cheek shyly from earth away
Turns in the dark a virginal queen of heaven
Sweetly you laugh, watching the weary rover
O'er the rough wold open the low, dark door,
And a fair maid draw to her breast the lover
Whose image stands deep in her bosom's core:
Moon of the trysting tree

Yellow of blee

In this musical stanza there is the strong pulse which beats in the author's best verse. The narrative of “Esther " is more direct and less interrupted by the striking but confusing episodes which abounded in the first part. A poem of so large a scope must be judged by the conduct of the story, the dramatic sufficiency of the characters, the skill and force displayed in the invention of situations. On all these points it would be premature to pronounce until the appearance of the third and final part shall have put the poet's entire conception before the reader. Only then can it clearly be seen whether he has made a permanent addition to our larger poetic literature, or whether he has produced another of those big, dead poems which are rescued from oblivion, if at all, only by an exceptionally fine passage here and there. Meanwhile we may confess to liking the narrative and

*The Vision of Esther. By Charles de Kay. New York: D. Appleton & Co.

descriptive parts of both "Visions" better than the reflective and conversational portions. We have been sensible, especially, of a certain awkwardness in the dialogue passages.

*

In his preface, the poet calls attention to the bearing of his poem on modern problems. "Polygamy sits in the heart of the United States. The status of woman in Europe and America is unsettled. Hebrews are still treated with gross or refined injustice. The American judiciary is corrupt. The priest still aims at material conquests. * * In this relation, there is no need to mention the daily unfairness of the white races to the dark-skinned, especially in the United States." Doubtless these applications will be made more closely in "The Vision of Ahram," but we trust that Mr. de Kay will not be led away by the desire to point a moral, but will do his best to make his series a poem and simply a poem,- not a contribution to sociology.

We wish to call particular attention to the divisions of the book entitled "The Flight to the Ships" and "The Battle on the Strand," which are perhaps the most rapid and spirited portions of the whole. As an example of the author's narrative manner, we quote the two stanzas which tell what befell when Esther saw the vessel of her wounded lover disappear in the

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These energetic and imaginative lines, in which the appearances of the horizon to a "man overboard" are indicated abruptly, and without wasting any words in the analysis of the swimmer's feelings, are very characteristic of what-if we wished to be pedantic — we might call Mr. de Kay's "method." With one more example from "The Battle on the Strand" we close our too brief notice of a very remarkable work:

"And for the third time Ahram reeled, the seeming
Serenity that roused his foemen's wrath
Shivered, as crack the faces cold of gleaming

And moveless lakes below the whirlwind's path.
But if the glacier glides its icy foot

Below that wave, and clouds blot out the splendor
Of sun-a jar-and through the liquid shoot
Long crystals, catching in and in, to render
The lake a clear dark block

Hard as the rock."

Boker's "Book of the Dead."*

WE confess to being puzzled as to the purpose of Mr. Boker's long poem. That it would never have been written but for Mr. Tennyson's "In Memo

*The Book of the Dead. By George H. Boker. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.

riam" is clear enough. It follows that wonderfully tender and beautiful poem afar off; but what else it is "after" is not so evident. Mr. Tennyson had a well-chosen theme for his pearls of sorrow. A friend was dead whose remarkable beauty of character and intellectual promise set him within the very edge of the public vision. Private grief bordered closely on public woe. Of this Tennyson took advantage, and, with exquisite art, molded that perfect expression of the sense of bereavement and of its spiritual alleviations.

Mr. Boker, too, has an under-song about which to cluster a versified wrath, but precisely of what public value it is we are unable to discover, nor will he tell us.

"Tis not my purpose to explain

The truths here dimly set in view; These hieroglyphics of the brain Are meant for others to undo.'

"I hang my painted pictures high,
I paint them ill, or paint them well;
If they say nothing to the eye

Then I have nothing more to tell."

What we make out-indeed, we are told it again and again-is that some one has died,—some dear friend, "the man of men most loved by me." He had been great and successful and much worshiped in life. He had done much for many men, including some treacherous friends:

"In life they played their cunning parts,
They lauded everything he did.
In death, they - bold, heroic hearts-
Stabbed at him through the coffin-lid!"

But who this friend was, and who the Judas was that betrayed him, or any sufficiently definite notions of time, place, or person, we do not learn. Sometimes the anguish seems to be wholly personal; sometimes it appears to have a larger front, and the reader looks for great public wrongs that should call for such an out-pouring of a year's vials of wrath which are to sear the memory of the "Judas" forever:

"At times the patience of my soul
With sudden rage is overflown;

I sparkle like an angry coal
Ón which a furious breath is blown.

"In wrath my frenzied numbers roar, A brandished sword in every verse, And thus upon my foes I pour

The flames of my prophetic curse."

But one is continually asking through two hundred and fourteen pages-why so publicly and impotently? If it is a general sorrow, why may we not all know about it, and share it intelligently? If it is private, why such exorbitant curses and lamentations, lasting through a year? If this song is meant to reach out into the wide public experience and embrace all men's grief and passion, the tone of the lament should indicate it more constantly. And herein, it seems to us, is the failure of the poet's art. He does not establish his claim to touch the public heart. His anguish is too individual to express what is common to all, and it is not individual enough to direct our sympathies.

Mr. Boker was not wont to play hide and seek with his purpose in the days when he wrote "The Betrothal and "The Widow's Marriage," "The Bal

lad of Sir John Franklin," and "Königsmark." To great man, and yet to walk worthily of his great moods, be sure, he was wont to take us over to

"Merry London, his most kindly nurse,"

and set us down in some by-street, where we could listen to Coleridge at one remove, or to Shakspere at two. But, in story-telling, he went straight to the mark. His dramatis persona were clever, and knew what to say and how to say it well. They were witty and bright, full of action and quite capable of passion, which they showed, but said little about. They spoke old English, indeed, and had committed to memory all the old stage traditions. But, whether as old friends or as clever friends, we felt an interest in them from the moment when they stated their troubles, or planned their fun, until they laughed or cried themselves off the stage. In the " Book of the Dead" there seems to be both less art and less reality.

A Prairie Idyl.*

showing no weakness, is evidence of original powers.

There is a reminiscence—perhaps of Mrs. Browning-in the poem "From Saurian to Seraph," but dramatic force, and a rapidity and ease of transition the poem has a strength of its own which promises Two stanzas serve to suggest a picturesque group in which indicate the fusing heats of a vivid imagination. front of a blacksmith's shop,-a lady dismounting from her pony, the brawny blacksmith and his skill,—the finally to launch us fairly on the blacksmith's story. beauty of the day, and the rural surroundings, and He has served seven years at his trade in England, and has since been in forty-two battles.

"Oh, then I had rich times! then I was proud!
You should have seen the sabre in my hand
Was just one red, and dripping like a cloud!
There never was a life so glad and grand.
But when the last ball's ricochet made rout,
And the last shell tore up the bloody sod,
I used to call my corps of blacksmiths out,
And drive the nails till every beast was shod."

and as rude:

"I served ten years because I loved to slay,

And, having fought, was fed. Oh, it was grand! My brutish blood ran richer day by day.'

THE author of "A Prairie Idyl" is intent on living, He had been himself a brute, as low as the Saurian, and enters the sacred precincts at once, not stopping often to brood over her relations to others. Her fancy is charming, because it is healthy and playful, and shows a joyous sympathy with all life about us. The picture which is drawn in this opening poem, of a certain half-wild, half-cultivated, idyllic nook in the woods, shows a close union between precise knowledge and the idealizing faculty. The quiet and beautiful

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"And certain birds come seeking then
For nesting-nooks aloft or low:
Song-sparrow, bluebird, robin, wren,
All new in love as one might know-
Deliriously trilling.

Oh, how the world enchanted them!
They fluttered, floated, flaunted by,
Set clinging feet on stalk or stem,
And sent roulades into the sky
As if it needed filling."

These musical visitors are followed by long proces-
sions of flowers.

"Ah, then, all out of perfect skies
Rushed in the lover-bobolinks!

Like Paganini, music-wise

Each bird will tell you all he thinks
On just that one-stringed viol.
Should Handel, Mozart, Mendelssohn
Set awful challenges afloat;
This little master, all alone
Half-way in Heaven, would tune his throat
And dare them to the trial."

A fancy like this comes from a bright spirit; but there
is a deeper meditative mood which is equally natural
and healthful. The minor strain in such poems as
"When I Call" is exquisitely quaint and pure, and
echoes with a sweet and wholly spiritual quality,
like the strains of an organ played in the remote
corner of a German cathedral. Such poems reach our
profoundest religious feeling, and express, even if they
do not satisfy, our spiritual longings. If they call to
mind George Herbert and other writers, it is nothing
against their originality. To walk in the shadow of a

A Prairie Idyl, and other Poems. Jansen, McClurg & Co., Chicago.

Then this same Saurian instinct had followed him from the "service" into the "slums," till a spiritual warning from his dead mother, who had been a Quaker, and the gentle hand of another living Quaker, had suggested less brutal and more helpful ways:

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Then came the rebellion, and he resumed the brute; recovered again, was taken and confined in a rebel prison for two years, was brought home an idiot, but recovered from that also, and rose by degrees from the Saurian stage to the point whence he could at least see the "Seraphs." The story is well told, and is tolerably full of good dramatic incident.

Besides this deeper strain,—which, as we have seen, can be passionate, and a more simple, well-controlled thought, which is sometimes searchingly philosophical, the author has a sureness of ear, of taste, and of judgment, of a very high order.

We are authorized to say that the author of "A Prairie Idyl and other Poems" is Miss Amanda T. Jones, whose name our readers will recognize as having been associated with some of the most thoughtful and original of these very poems, when published for the first time in the pages of this maga zine.

HOME AND SOCIETY.

The Legal Relations of Mistress and Servant.

THE relations of mistress and servant are so governed by custom and tradition that few ladies, in hiring cooks, chambermaids, or waitresses, and few cooks, chambermaids, or waitresses, in being hired, remember that they are entering into a legal relation. Neither party to this bargain is in the habit of appealing to the courts. No written contract is entered into, and possible litigation and damages are not, as in the case of most other contracts, kept constantly in view. Nevertheless, the relation of mistress and maid is subject to many well-defined rules of law, a few of which are of considerable practical importance. We say the relation between mistress and maid, because, in this country, the actual relations of servants are generally with the lady of the house, though, when it comes to litigation, the parties who appear in court are generally of the other sex. Usually the husband of the mistress is in law responsible for her dealings with her servants, while among servants a litigious disposition is rarely developed among the gentler sex. The rules of law, however, are the same for both sexes.

One of the questions which must frequently arise in any employer's mind is what remedy she has for simple idleness and neglect of duty on the part of a servant. The right of chastisement is obsolete, and the right to obtain a decree for what is known to lawyers as specific performance has never been recognized by the courts. Under these circumstances custom and law coincide in leaving only one course open, which, curiously enough, was that recommended by the learned Puffendorf two centuries ago, "to expel the lazy drones" and "leave them to their own beggarly condition." This advice Puffendorf derived entirely from his investigations into the law of nature. The common law of the United States is, however, precisely in accord with the law of nature, and its rule about idle servants, expressed in the vernacular of to-day, is simply to discharge them.

When they are discharged, is it the duty of the mistress to give them "characters"? This was settled long ago in the case of Card v. Bird (3 Esp., 201), decided in England, at the beginning of this century, by Lord Kenyon. The plaintiff's wife, having been dismissed from the service of the defendant, applied to a Mrs. S. for a situation. Mrs. S. was willing to take her if she could get a character from the defendant. The defendant refused to give her one, and she consequently brought an action. Lord Kenyon said that such an action had never been heard of then, and no such action has been heard of since. But, though the employer is not bound to give any character at all, she is at perfect liberty to do so, and if she does it she is bound to tell the truth, and not indulge in malicious insinuations. The rules of law with regard to servants' characters are simply those of a sound social morality. One or two cases decided in the English courts will show this and the rules

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would be precisely the same in this country. Sir Gervas Clifton never complained of his butler's conduct while he was with him, but suddenly dismissed him without notice, and without a month's wages. The butler was not entitled to the month's wages, but refused to leave the house without them. A violent altercation took place, and a policeman was sent for who finally ejected the butler. Sir Gervas subsequently gave the butler a very bad character, and, in the course of it, made some charges which were not true. On these facts the butler recovered a verdict for twenty pounds. (Rogers v. Clifton, 3 B. and P., 587.) Under ordinary circumstances, characters given to or statements made about servants are what are known at law as "privileged communications," that is, they may be made, if made truthfully, without fear of the consequences. Thus, in another English case, a master discharged his cook and footman, and they asked him his reason for doing so; he told the footman, in the absence of the cook, that "he and the cook had been robbing him," and told the cook, in the absence of the footman, that he had discharged her because "she and the footman had been robbing him." It was decided that these statements were privileged, and that neither cook nor footman had any cause of action against him.

Disputes of this sort seldom get into the courts in this country, partly because we are less litigious than the English, and partly because work is easier to get here. A dispute which has been made the subject of adjudication here is one which, no doubt, often arises in practice between master and servant and mistress and maid; and that is, when the servant leaves the employment wrongfully before his or her term of service expires, is the employer bound to pay for the time? The old rule was that nothing was due. The modern rule is unsettled, but the better opinion is that the employer is bound to pay for the time actually given. In most cases, however, we presume the servant actually receives wages for the whole time.

"Going "Abroad for an Education."

G. S.

I HAVE read the article in the September CENTURY on "Going Abroad for an Education," with interest and hearty approval of the points made, with one exception. My observation and experience differ from those of the writer of that article in regard to the conditions upon which a young man can take a degree in a German university. He says the diplomas which Americans receive at German universities "are nothing more, as a rule, than certificates that they have pursued certain studies at these universities, and quite another thing from the degree which the German student receives. It is hardly within the range of possibility for a graduate from an American college, even if he reads a little German,' to be graduated at a German university."

Allow me to modify this statement. I am personally acquainted with at least a dozen graduates

from American colleges who have taken the degree of Doctor of Philosophy from German universities within the last seven years. The diploma in these cases is no mere certificate of studies pursued, but a certificate of the degree conferred “propter egregiam scientiam dissertatione et examine adprobatam" - as reads one to which I refer, and which is identical with the diploma given to the German graduate. The examination is often undergone - at least in Göttingen - side by side with a German student, and no distinction is made between the American and German in regard to the questions. Every student, it is true, whether he be a candidate for a degree or not, has, in his Anmeldungsbuch, a certificate of studies pursued. This is a book which each matriculate receives, and in which he enters the lectures he proposes to attend. Following these entries are blanks for the treasurer's receipt for fees, and for the signatures of the professors at the beginning, middle, and end of the Semester, in certification of faithful attendance on their lectures. The book thus shows at a glance what lectures, etc., the student has paid for and attended. It is, however, not a certificate from the university, but rather a collection of individual certificates from the professors, of attendance merely.

As to matriculation at a German university, in no case within my knowledge has an American candidate been called upon to pass an examination on the studies of the gymnasium. His college diploma has, in most cases, been enough to secure his admission to the university privileges. The only examination he has to look forward to is the final one for his degree. "Annuals" are unknown.

Allow me to re-state, in the following terms, the conditions upon which a graduate of an American college, who “reads a little German,” can take a degree in a German university. (1) Familiarity with the language. (2) The successful accomplishment of an original investigation in the student's specialty. (3) The presentation of a dissertation giving the results of this work (but not required, I believe, at Heidelberg). (4) A searching oral examination on the student's specialty and the branches subordinate to it.

John T. Stoddard.

A Young Folks' School of Observation. OUR school system too often trains out of existence some of the most valuable faculties of the human mind. Children are taught to read and write and cipher till their mental vision becomes too shortsighted to note the infinite changes of earth and sky and water. The power to see, to discriminate, to interpret facts, is lost, and with it the great educational influences of later life. The curiosity of a child carries with it a divine intimation. He is not born a questioning animal, merely to drive to distraction the grown-up world to which he belongs. But, like every other God-given faculty, this curiosity needs to be wisely directed and judiciously repressed, or satisfied, as the case may be.

A mere book education is a very poor preparation for the real work of life. Scholars are proverbially impractical, and what is true of the extreme instance is, in a modified sense, equally true of those which are less extreme. There is no one mental quality of VOL. XXV.-15.

such universal application in everyday life as the power of keen and accurate observation, and just this power an undue application to books destroys.

Anything which promises to supplement school training by the development of the observing faculty, merits the hearty sympathy and coöperation of all who are interested in the cause of education. This is exactly what the Agassiz Association proposes to do, while, at the same time, it gathers a fund of facts, and affords healthful amusement to the children interested in it. The idea of a Natural Science Association for children originated in Switzerland, but America was not long in following the example. Some years ago this American Society was organized at Lenox, Mass. In the November number of the "St. Nicholas Magazine" for 1880, Mr. Harlan H. Ballard, the founder of the chapter at Lenox, published a little article, proposing a St. Nicholas branch to the Agassiz Association. The editor cordially indorsed the idea, and since then the pages of that magazine have been, from time to time, the vehicle of communication in matters pertaining to the Association. In response to the invitation issued in November, hundreds of letters came pouring in from children all over the land, and by the following February twenty-seven chapters, numbering over two hundred members, had been formed as parts of the St. Nicholas branch.

Mr. Ballard undertook to receive and answer the letters. The Association, at the expiration of twenty months, had, however, reached the number of three thousand four hundred members, etc., and the correspondence had become enormous, really beyond the management of one man. Mr. Ballard has therefore published a little hand-book,* the one whose title is given at the bottom of this page, which is intended to answer many of these questions. It gives a history of the Association; directions how to form a chapter; suggestions as to the mode of writing; rules for the making and filling of cabinets; a list of the books to be consulted, and many other suggestions interesting and useful to a beginner in the fascinating study of science. The Association can scarcely be too highly commended as a happy combination of amusement and instruction, without the usual aimlessness of the one and the irksomeness of the other.

S. B. H.

"To Teach the Young Idea How to Shoot."

THE article upon "Children's Logic," by S. B. H., in the August CENTURY, struck a responsive chord in the heart of one who would like to add a word upon the subject. If, through life, our progress in reasoning could be made proportional to that of the first years of childhood, old age would find us much wiser than we are. But the natural powers of observation are too soon made to give place to the artificial training of the schools, when, with many children, mental development ceases. Many of us have grown up in utter ignorance of the beautiful things in nature by which we are surrounded, when, if we had received satisfactory answers to our eager, childish questions, we might have found a charm in the natural history taught

* Hand-Book of the "St. Nicholas " Agassiz Association. By Harlan H. Ballard, Principal of Lenox Academy: Pittsfield, Mass.

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