But we gladly leave these strictures and turn to a more congenial field. As closely as the partly conjectural chronology of the Apostle's life enables us to follow him, each year of it brings with it added interest. Syria, Asia Minor, Greece and Rome : such is the gradation. Rome! In these days of national decentralization it is impossible for us to de more than faintly realize what the Imperial City was to the civilized world. It was a phenomenon that history has never repeated, and that, in all probability, never can be repeated. Politically, socially, commercially, Rome was the heart of the world: from it and to it the blood flowed, and when the fever of dissatisfaction or insurrection quickened its strenuous pulsations, sooner or later, farthest East and farthest West felt its throbs. It was inevitable that an aggressive society such as was the early Church should there seek a lasting foothold. The eager desire of the Apostle to preach the Gospel in Rome is easy to understand: Jerusalem, Antioch, Ephesus, Athens, Corinth-these were the outworks; this was the citadel.

Dr. Farrar, in his treatment of the various circumstances which preceded the Apostle's arrival, for the most part traverses well-known ground, and much of striking novelty was not to be expected. Of these chapters perhaps the most interesting is that on the Voyage and Shipwreck of St. Paul, but though Dr. Farrar (more suo) refers us by way of elucidation to Horace, Plato, Vitruvius, Thucydides and Anson, it may be questioned if he has added anything but imaginative detail to previous descriptions, foremost among which must always be reckoned that of Smith of Jordanhill.

now

Dr. Farrar refers us partly to his Seekers after God for his delineation of Roman society, although to some extent he also deals with it in these volumes. It is difficult to imagine a study of more absorbing interest than that which is implied in any attempt to depict faithfully what Rome was and what its people were, and what were the beliefs and superstitions into the midst of which St. Paul entered, with every social disqualification, to work for his great Master. Three words-darkness, guilt and misery— well indicate the religious condition of the Mistress of the World. And the darkness was denser, the guilt more deeply dyed, and the misery more despairing than we can imagine. The first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans gives but a scanty outline of the records of contemporary historians. Here for two years St. Paul lived under constant surveillance, either in prison or in his own hired house, chained to a soldier. Dr. Farrar has unquestionably given much attention to this part of the Apostle's life; but our conviction is that his work in this respect is inferior to that of some who have preceded him on the same ground. Conybeare and Howson have treated the subject with a larger and a stronger grasp and power, if not always with the same rhetorical charm, while they and Dr. Farrar alike, in many respects, fall below the brilliant delineations of Renan, who, although dangerous and thoroughly sceptical, must, in common justice, be confessed without a rival in his exposition of the early environment of Christianity. In this case, as so often in Dr. Farrar's book, what will attract the attention of his readers is his picturesque detail, and perhaps nowhere is he more suc

cessful than in his contrast between Nero (the brief idyll of whose 'golden' youth had already passed) and his worn and patient prisoner.

In Dr. Farrar's easy way, occasion is taken in these volumes to make reference once or twice to Methodism in a manner not profoundly discriminating. Thus we read: 'It has happened not unfrequently in the providence of God that the destroyer of a creed or system has been bred and trained in the inmost bosom of the system which he was destined to shake or destroy. Sakya Mouni had been brought up in Brahminism; Luther had taken the vows of an Augustinian; Pascal had been trained as a Jesuit; Spinoza was a Jew; Wesley and Whitefield were Clergymen of the Church of England. It was not otherwise with St. Paul.'

To say nothing of Sakya Mouni (commonly known as Buddha), who did not destroy Brahminism, we were, in common with many others, of opinion that the Church of England was still undestroyed; and that so far as Wesley left it, it was because he was thrust out from it.

The following sentence also will convey a hitherto inexperienced notion of the antiquity of Methodism : 'Traducionist and Pelagian, Calvinist and Arminian, Sublapsarian and Supralapsarian, Solifidian and Gospeller, Legalist and Antinomian, Methodist and Baptist have wrangled about them for centuries, and strewn the field of polemical theology with the scattered and cumbering débris of technicalities and anathemas.' Perhaps it is too much to expect, in so omnivorous a reader as Dr. Farrar, a passable accuracy of information or of statement in all cases; but, unfortunately, there are numerous instances in these volumes of similar ignorance of fact or looseness of expression.

In the well-worn paths of scholarship the author of the Life and Work of St. Paul sometimes presents us

with that which has been forgotten, or even discovers that which has been overlooked; but in those larger and general conceptions which imply not merely a technical facility, but a masterly view of the whole in relation to its parts, he displays a weakness which, alas! is not new. It is enough for him at times that an opinion or question has been disputed to set it on one side; a less adequate reason it would be difficult to find. Moreover, the conviction is impressed upon the reader of his works, more deeply as their number is multiplied, that the evanescent popularity of an idea, provided that that popularity, however brief, is on a large scale, has an almost irresistible fascination for him. This is unquestionably another source of weakness. There are fashions in theology and literature, as well as in dress, and sometimes, perhaps, they are not without their use. But their destiny is to disappear. The work that lives is that which, while it does not necessarily contradict them, is independent of them. Does Dr. Farrar possess the necessary independence of thought? the solidity of execution? that power of sound and wide-reaching generalization which belong to intuition and mastery of his subject? These questions are suggested by the perusal of these volumes, and it is difficult to answer them in the affirmative. Certain it is that in places where clear speaking is needed, his voice is not always clear; and we cannot commend him to our readers as a trustworthy guide in the higher. questions of belief. Many pages in these volumes are bright and full of charm, but many also weary the reader with their wordy opulence. Dr. Farrar has an exhaustless vocabulary at his disposal, streams from which he allows sometimes freely to play about the object before him, which, it may be, calls rather for the dry light of thought, or might have been dismissed with a simple sentence.

No! the last word on the Life and Work of St. Paul has not yet been said, even for this generation. Dr. Farrar's book has superseded none of those to which thoughtful enquirers have been wont to look. And yet we do not part from him without gratitude. Far from it. Unequal and disappointing as his work may be in many important respects, yet he has, doubtless, drawn the attention of thousands of readers to a contemplation of vital importance to our day. What with the breathless competition and the anxious fluctuations of commerce; what with strikes, lockouts, trade-unions, pressing questions of Church and State, of land and labour, and of policy at home and abroad, in these days men often seem to lack time to study the Word of God. England's burden of wealth and empire sits heavily upon her :

The weary Titan, with deaf
Ears and labour-dimmed eyes,
Regarding neither to right
Nor left, goes passively by,
Staggering on to her goal;
Bearing on shoulders immense,
Atlanteän, the load,
Well-nigh not to be borne,

Of the too vast orb of her fate.'

And then, too, the crude poison of the newest and most audacious materialism

that has yet been known is spreading in our midst, according to which there

is not a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty does not give him understanding-an automaton, the residuary analysis of which is a few pinches of phosphorus, a handful or two of lime and chemical salts, and a bucket of water: his highest dignity and noblest motives are stripped away from him, and he is left without God or hope in the world. This is its Confession of Faith: 'The moral ordering of the world is evidently a beautiful poem, which is proved to be false by the actual facts. None but the idealist scholar, who closes his eyes to the real truth, or the priest who tries to keep his spiritual flock in ecclesiastical leading-strings, can any longer tell the fable of the "moral ordering of the world." It exists neither in nature nor in human life, neither in natural history nor in the history of civilization. The terrible and ceaseless "struggle for existence" gives the real impulse to the blind course of the world.'†

In the midst of such distractions and such teachings there is a preeminent need of a revival of the sense of duty and of reverence. We gladly, therefore, recognize the value of Dr. Farrar's attempt to draw attention once more to a life which was all duty and all reverence, superadded to humble faith.

play themselves variously, though never ceasing to be the manifest products of the life which they express. Spiritual religion, rooted in the true Christian idea, may animate a man, drawn aside from the ordinary paths of men, when in quest of Nature's secrets, or in the acquisition of power

to embody the most transcendent conceptions of art; and the expression of that vitality may be along the lines of duty, self-imposed. In other words, men need not be eminent for religion only in order to be eminently religious. The purpose of the Divine Teacher, as the Light of the World,' the Bread of Life,' was not to lay down a path for virtue and self-consecration, but to impart the principles —the living power-which would consecrate all paths, and ennoble all undertakings. Nothing can be more mistaken than to separate personal religion from life-the common ways of men. The student of history must see how repeatedly the noblest men,nay, corporations of men,-animated by the highest principles, have confounded Gospel vitality with meaningless and destructive asceticism. True, this has always been the result of reaction from some dominant worldly excesses; but none the less untrue for that. Music, the Arts, and the higher pursuit of purely temporal knowledge-science-have been all, in turn, or together, either disavowed, or assumed by the popular mind to be less noble because of the unique career of some especially saintly mind.

Yet, in truth, all these things are but the evocation of what is Divine in us. Music is in the soul of the producer and the sympathetic recipient. It is a physical fact that colour is not in the thing coloured, but in the eye and brain perceiving it. The finest compositions of Mendelssohn, rendered by the most powerful and perfect performer, would produce no effect upon a herd of lowing cattle! Yet every chord that vibrates thus produces upon the physical constitution of the brute the same effect as upon the ear of the most enraptured human listener. The physics of hearing are the same in both cases; yet the effect of the physical cause is how different in the two cases! Why?

Because it is to the soul that there is music. It is a God-given property of mind that appreciates it. A herd of bullocks will never be seen to lift their heads from browsing on the luscious grass to look upon the most splendid sunset that ever glorified the West. To the cultured and morallyelevated man, the unutterable splendour of that transient scene awakes emotions too deep for words. Clearly the majesty of that rhythmic conflagration in the immeasurable West is in us, and not in itself alone. The beauty-that is, the power to perceive it, is in the soul perceiving.

And the discovery, by imperturbable resolve and tireless purpose, of a great cosmic law like that of gravitation, is grand only as the mind can perceive it. The majesty that is in the law is the outcome of majestic, boundless mind; and it is only mind that can be impressed by it.

Then, is not the power to catch the ever-newer and the ever-higher glories of the physical universe a Divine impartation? Nay, is it not one of the most characteristic impartations of the Creator to man? Its very existence is the evidence of his kingship upon earth. Religion, then, even in its most uplifted realizations, when properly constituting the life of a Christian, cannot be at war with these; it simply interfuses them with purer light and loftier purpose.

It follows, therefore, that so long as a man's pursuits be in themselves noble, they may be animated by the loftiest personal piety. But they will not all be equally along the lines in which the more eminent traits of saintly character are most commonly seen. This is the case with eminent scientific workers. There are few men who need more faith than they. They are constantly abutting upon what is, for the time, perplexing and seemingly contradictory; and they breathe an atmosphere of polemics. But there are true believers in the

army of scientific workers, none the less men of the highest faith, who triumph, not by reasoning, but by mental recumbence. We hear of men who will not reason, who will not hear of propositions adverse to those which they believe, lest their faith should fail. We do not rebuke these; they do well not to take upon them more than they can bear; but there must be men who will stand in the breach, who will hear, and when the hour comes, answer. These are men who triumph by the very majesty of their faith. They believe when the darkness is deepest.

These reflections are called up by the calm and noble, but, to us, all too sudden, removal from earth of one of the leaders, in some senses the leader, of Physical Research in the civilized world. Since our last Notes were written, PROFESSOR JAMES CLERK MAXWELL has ceased to be a worker and thinker in our midst. Of his work as Physicist, England-nay, Science in its most cosmopolitan relationswill ever be proud. It would be at once futile and beyond our purpose to attempt to explain his unique methods of research, their high refinement and accuracy, their beautiful results, or his power as a mathematician to interpret and apply them. He commenced his career in 1854 as second Wrangler and (bracketed) first Smith's Prizeman; but previously he had been elected a Foundation Scholar of his college. He became a Fellow of Trinity, and in 1855 obtained the Professorship of Natural Philosophy in Marischal College, Aberdeen. In 1860 he became Professor of Natural Philosophy and Astronomy in King's College, London; and in 1871 he was invited by the Senate of the University of Cambridge to the Chair of Experimental Physics, just established there. In this position he put into working order the Cavendish Laboratory-a munificent gift to the University by the Duke

of Devonshire-where he worked and taught to the end.

He has died, as he lived, in the profession of an unshaken faith; and his confidence and the beauty of his thought at the close, are at once delightful and helpful to the believing. During the last winter, Professor Maxwell did not enjoy his usual health. In the spring he lacked his wonted vigour, but it was hoped that strength would be restored by rest. This he took; but with no good results. He gradually became weaker, until all hope of his recovery was given up, and he died on the 5th of November last.

His character was noble. As a Professor he was intensely admired by his disciples. His versatility was great he was a poet and a wit in no mean degree; but he was specially versed in the literature of the day. No question stirred the minds of the thoughtful, but he carefully weighed and could deal with it. This made him profoundly sympathetic with the mentally anxious and disturbed. He was nobly unselfish, and not easily provoked.' It is declared by one who was constantly with him in all his professional work, that during the eight years that he held the Chair of Physics in Cambridge, he never spoke a hasty word, even to his attendants." His powers of affection were also of the strongest. He rarely entered openly into theological controversy, and seldom in his works on science indicated the side he took in the great matters that have so strongly excited the theological world during the past few years. But amongst those who knew him, his Christian character was patent, even without the profession he was ever bold to make. Only three weeks before his death he remarked that he had examined every system of atheism he could find in the literature of man, and he had discovered, quite independently of any previous knowledg