I can

But my youth was embittered. not say that my time was wasted, because it was worth nothing (to Science), and does not count. In other respects compulsory arithmetic was as hard on me as compulsory Euripides on the children of Science. Macaulay, Tennyson, Sir William Hamilton were, I believe, on my mathematical level, and could not take honors at Cambridge, though all of them were at least as clever (in a useless way) as the ordinary Science man. All were victims of compulsion.

Yet, surely, something must be compulsory! Mathematics, obviously, ought not to be, because some people, above the standard of idiocy, are incapable of mathematics. Greek ought not to be compulsory, because Greek literature (or any literature, probably) is empty nonsense to the young scientific men and women. There must, nevertheless, be some test to prove whether the student knows anything at all, has taken any trouble at all, or not. Would it not suffice merely to examine every candidate in what he thinks he knows, in the study which he professes that he has pursued and intends to pursue? If he can pass in that, be it history, electricity, conchology, classics, or what not, let him pass and go on his learned way rejoicing. I am old-fashioned enough to think that the historian should have to pass in Latin, because charters and other non-classical documents and chronicles are couched in a low form of that language. But the modern historian can do very well without Thucydides, Polybius. and Aristotle. Greek ought not to be exhibited to the scientific man; it makes him so angry, except when he is misusing it to coin scientific terminology. Longman's Magazine.

The objection may be urged that, as very few boys will learn Greek if it is not compulsory, schoolmasters will starve. But that is only the usual "rub in the green" of political economy. You make sugar of beetroot, and the West Indies starve. You invent a new machine, and working men starve. You invent new photographic methods of reproducing drawings, and woodengravers starve. Economically speaking, all this is just as it should be, or must be, and the same rule applies to schoolmasters. They must apply their energies otherwise. No doubt many of them are not too stupid to learn science, as Cato learned Greek, late in life. The elder members of the profession must blaudly perish in the struggle for existence, like other species out of harmony with their environment. Things will adjust themselves, and, in a generation or two, only the people who deserve to learn Greek will learn it. I do not see why German should not be compulsory, because German is useful, and, besides, is much more difficult and distasteful than Greek, demanding more application and making less appeal to the useless literary taste. One would be more sorry for schoolmasters-nay, there might be no prospect of starvation before them at allif they had taught Greek in a sensible way, and made even the beginnings of the study interesting. But they ground at grammar-empty grammar-without even telling us who the Greeks were, and why they have enjoyed a considerable reputation for some centuries. The awkward position of schoolmasters is due to their own want of intelligence, and stereotyped, wrong-headed methods.

Andrew Lang.

E. P. Dutton & Co. are soon to publish a volume of letters by Count Paul Hatzfeldt, the late German Ambassador to London. The letters cover the period of the Franco-German They are written by the Count from the headquarters of the King of Prussia and are addressed to his wife.

war.

Henry Holt & Co. are to publish "A Maid of Japan" by Mrs. Hugh Fraser. Few writers can have had better opportunities for becoming acquainted with Japanese character, as Mrs. Fraser was for several years in Tokio with her husband, who was British Minister to Japan. Mrs. Fraser's "A Diplomat's Wife in Japan" has been widely read.

There is a Blind Library at Oxford which is probably unique. It is housed in the City Library, and its object is to supply every book necessary for the University examinations. It contains now nearly five hundred volumes, and the number is rapidly increasing. Most of these books have necessarily been written by hand, and are the only copies. The library has done much to stimulate the higher education of the blind, and applications for the loan of books come from intending undergraduates in all parts.

A young Greek, secretary to Sejanus, murdered because he knows too much of the favorite's plots against the imperial household; his sister, a beautiful dancing girl, thrown into prison on suspicion of sharing his knowledge; and the girl's lover, a charioteer in the Roman circus-these, with the principal historical personages of the period. play the leading parts in Walter S. Cramp's novel, "Psyche, A Romance of

the Reign of Tiberius." By an ingenious interweaving of fiction with fact, the same train of events that releases Psyche from the imprisonment which she shares with the ill-fated Agrippina, widow of Germanicus, rouses the Emperor from his revels at Capri, and sends Sejanus to his fate. Little, Brown & Co.

That "the developments of scientific and psychical truth now offer a vast array of detail explaining and illustrating the truth taught by Jesus" is the keynote of "The Outlook Beautiful," the latest addition to Lilian Whiting's popular series, and to minds that incline to reinforce their faith by restating it in the terminology of certain schools of current thought her presentation will be helpful and inspiring. To the belief in immortality, for example, is contributed the suggestion that "the ethereal body is in a state of far higher vibration than the physical body," and that "as water, ice, steam and vapor are merely different conditions of the same element, so are spirit and matter." Miss Whiting's facility in quotation serves her as well in this as in her earlier volumes-Cardinal Newman, Bishop Brooks, Browning, Stephen Phillips, Professor Royce, Dr. Wm. T. Harris, Mrs. Besant, Emerson, Mrs. Stowe, Alexander Fullerton, George Eliot, John Milton Scott, Frederic Myers, Sir Oliver Lodge, Minot Savage, and "Imperator, the lofty and pure intelligence who controlled the automatic hand-writing of the Rev. W. Stainton Moses" being among her authorities; and she draws upon the testimony of spiritualism and the results of theosophical inquiry as impartially as upon the theories of physical science. Little, Brown & Co.

ASTOR, LENOX TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

SEVENTH SERIES VOLUME XXVII.

FROM BEGINNING Vol. CCXLV.

The publication of Mr. Stephen Phillips's latest poetic drama, The Sin of David, seems to offer a convenient opportunity for a consideration of his abilities as a dramatist and a poet. The period of promise is over and the period of fulfilment, considering that this is Mr. Phillips's fourth play, has, or ought to have, begun. A few years ago the acclamations of reviewers would have drowned any attempt at a sane and dispassionate criticism of Mr. Phillips's work. Never has a young man, at his first entry into the literary world, been so enthusiastically greeted. Take, for instance, the following sentence, culled from the Press notices of Paolo and Francesca:-"Mr Phillips (I quote from memory) has demonstrated what we should have thought incapable of demonstration, that another poem could be finer than 'Christ in Hades'!" Surely many among the illustrious dead must have turned in their graves as this sentence was written! But praise of this sort is, of course, intolerable. It is both uncritical and hysterical. Not only is it an insult to English literature but it is a millstone round the neck of the poet.

What sort of standard was this that Mr. Phillips was asked to live up to? From such a pinnacle there could be no ascent, only decline; and, as far as Press criticism goes, it is to be feared that Mr. Phillips has in some degree experienced the bitterness of that downward path. A glance at the Press notices of The Sin of David shows that Mr. Phillips has ceased to be a superstition. The general tone of criticism is cooler, even where it is not actually disparaging. There is no longer that rapture of acknowledgment or that eagerness of expectation which were apparent a few years ago. Probably the summit of Mr. Phillips's popularity was just before the production of Herod at His Majesty's Theatre. Up to that time we had only the Poems and Paolo and Francesca, both almost unparalleled popular successes. From the moment of the production of Herod popular estimation began to cool. The production of Paolo at the St. James's was also somewhat of a disappointment and did nothing to reinstate Mr. Phillips in his old position. Since then, whether it be that Time makes for the sane and the nor

mal, or that Mr. Phillips has gone back instead of forward, it is clear enough to those who have followed his career that he is less of a figure in contemporary literature than he was.

Now such a change in public opinion has usually a rational cause. It is only after the voices of the critics have died away that a book or a play can be judged on its merits. The silent process of reading and re-reading in private, the discussion and exchange of views amongst individuals, and the final test of durability supplied by the lapse of time-these are the things which give the authoritative verdict on a literary reputation. In Mr. Phillips's case the lapse of time has been short, considering that we have to do with an author who has been seriously encouraged in his bid for immortality. Four or five years at most-and now we may find one reviewer comparing him unfavorably with the author of The Prayer of the Sword, while another goes so far as to use the following words in reference to a recently published collection of poems by living writers: "We do not miss the work of the Poet Laureate or Mr. Stephen Phillips, but we do not find it here." Furthermore, any one who desires to purchase a first edition copy of any of Mr. Phillips's work will find that he has to pay twelve shillings less for it than he would have done three years ago.

The change in valuation, then, is a real change, and seems to be widespread. It may be, of course, that this is only one more instance of the pendulum swing of literary reputations. But I am inclined to think that this is not the case, and that the decline in Mr. Phillips's popularity is due to a calmer and maturer estimate of his attainments. Since, then, any such decline naturally dates from a time subsequent to the publication of the Poems, it follows that it is with Mr. Phillips's

dramatic work that critics are dissatisfied; and it is in connection with this that I wish to put forward a few suggestions.

Mr. Phillips, as is well known, began his literary career as a writer of lyrics and narrative poems of a lyrical character. To these he brought a strongly emotional temperament and a curious vein of mysticism which appealed to the imagination of the public. Christ in Hades and Marpessa both reveal these qualities very vividly. They are successful because they afford the poet an environment in which he can move easily and naturally. The unearthliness of Christ in Hades and the remote mythological setting of Marpessa carry him away to just that distance from actual life which suits his peculiar bent. Now, this admixture of mysticism and emotion, in itself, is not what one would have described as a promising asset for a would-be dramatist. But Mr. Phillips had at one time been an actor and, fired possibly by a spirit of ambition to emulate the highest that had been done in English literature, naturally bethought him of writing a blank-verse play. Apart from the encouragement he had received from the Press, a sufficient motive may be found for him in the desire of every young poet to attempt the utmost possible. The perpetual lodestar of all post-Elizabethan poets has been the drama of Shakespeare. There it stands, an eternal provocation and incitement to the young writer conscious of his powers yet ignorant of his limitations. This is a healthy instinct, like all aspirations after the highest, however irrational or ill-supported they may be. But it has led to more failures on the part of great poets than any other influence in literature. There is hardly an eminent name throughout the roll of postShakespearian English poets with whom we cannot associate some un