admire the creative vigor which could marshal and group the elements of sculpture and architecture into union without mixture, and in a manner to co-operate without losing their distinctness. The lowest story or base, consisting of the portals, is exceedingly rich with sculpture, and is the heaviest part of the whole front. In the middle range, with its central wheel-window and the open lancet arches on each side of it, there is no sculpture except half a dozen figures between and at the outsides of these. Above this, the third story, in its line of kings, prophets, and apostles, returns upon sculpture, yet in a manner lighter and simpler than that which prevails about the portals. Then rise on high the towers, in airy openness, altogether free from figures. Thus the first and third stories correspond in being chiefly sculptural, but the higher one much less copiously so; the second, and the towers, in being purely architectural; the second, however, which allies the first and third, has enough of sculpture to keep up the sense of consistency and connection between them. Thus a series of sculptural and architectural courses, interposed in an ascending and diminishing range, carries you from the gates of the church, around which earthly life clings, into the pinnacles above the church, which no mortal form may scale, and which may be visited only by the viewless angels from the air. . . . I touch but a few points of the interest and beauty of this noble front. Like all other cathedrals that were built while Gothic architecture was yet a living and plastic essence, it must be studied, in its combination and unity, as a creation of inspired art; the forms and figures which it deals in being but the elements whose significance is derived from the moulding shapes in which they are disposed. Thus dealt with, architecture becomes a symbolic medium of spiritual meaning, of imaginative suggestion, not less ideal and prophetic than music, painting, and song. In the rich and grand impressions which this remarkable front evolves, one may see, as in an opera of Mozart, an ever-gushing sensuousness of melodies, regulated and toned down by a yet mightier and more commanding power of harmony."-Rheims Cathedral, pp. 89, 90. 66 "Of all the cathedrals I have seen, I know of nothing of such imaginative, spiritual, ethereal beauty, as the interior of Bourges. In regularity and simplicity, it exceeds perhaps even Salisbury; yet in every line of its fabric, the vivifying touch of creative genius is visible. The elements are the finest and most delicate that were ever combined for so great an effect as this; but it is the inspired ideality of impression with which these forms are played upon, the poetic significance and suggestiveness of the composition, that constitutes the mental charm of this half-heavenly erection. Beneath his hand who fashioned this structure, arches, vaults, columns, surfaces, were as the finest notes VOL. LXXXI. NO. 168.* 21 of an organ under the fingers of a master, who, forming in his mind some airy conception of the beautiful and exalting, steeps it in sounds, that crystallize around it, until some one of Art's deathless existences is formed for the glory and gladness of the world. Matter, under the contagious fires of such an artist's handling, becomes animated and cooperative his touch seems to shoot electric energies of intelligence into mechanical substances; to infuse instincts of forms by which they voluntarily marshal themselves into the array of beauty."— p. 95. "The front of Strasbourg Cathedral is one of those productions in which the work of man rises so high in the sphere of sublimity and great perfection, as to seem fit to take its place among the silent and eternal monuments of nature. A vast interior may produce the impression of a profound and mystic grandeur; but that is chiefly because it is viewed apart from standards of comparison, and thus the mind's solemn feelings flow forth and distend the space into an ideal immensity corresponding with an emotion of reverence that grows within the spirit. But look upon the front of Strasbourg Cathedral from some point when you may view at the same time the noble mountain ranges of the Vosges and the Black Forest, divided by the broad waters of the grandest river in Europe; view it when the sun in heaven stands in splendor beside its skypiercing spire, and sends down upon it a gushing tribute of enkindling lustre, or when the ancient stars come forth upon the sky to gladden themselves with its beauty, and the new moon walks over the whole circle of the heavens to view the entireness of the whole pile; then, even then, in the presence of such objects, which are the joy of creation, the representatives of the energy of The Infinite, Strasbourg Cathedral seems, and ever shall seem, a glorious work' of power, of beauty, and of grandeur. The extraordinary height to which the vast breadth of this façade rises, shooting thence still upward in the fountain-like jet of its spire, furnishes some explanation of this effect. As you come upon the place where it stands, it seems to rear itself aloft like the wall of the world, coming athwart you, as if it would stop all progress and all view. It is enough to say, that it is the highest human structure upon the face of the earth.” - pp. 111, 112. 6 We would gladly, did space permit, make further extracts from these descriptions of the noblest works of human genius, particularly from those of the cathedrals of Friburg, Milan, and St. Peters. They are rich with eloquence and feeling, cultivated taste and philosophic thought. Unfinished as they are, it would be difficult to find in our language, even in Ruskin's wild, erratic, but brilliant, poetic, and often profound dis courses, compositions of a higher character. We must also pass by, with merely an admiring reference, the Essays on the works of Michael Angelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Raphael. Though they show, more perhaps than the rest of the book, the want of the writer's last touches, and therefore must not be viewed as completed productions, yet they are admirable specimens of discriminating criticism. The knowledge of the nature and history of art, the spiritual insight and imaginative power which they exhibit, entitle them to a high rank in the literature of the subject. The Essay on the Philosophy of Comte relates to a topic too extensive to be touched upon at present. It has been said that every man owes a debt to his profession. That debt Mr. Wallace discharged. It is also true that every scholar and thinker owes a debt to society. Unspoken thought is barren of fruit; it is the written word, a seed cast into the field of time, that connects a man with the future and makes him a cause. To express its thought, is the high life-purpose of genius. Whatever is in a man's mind that seems to him good, let him say it, and add it to the influences that control opinion, and thus determine the destiny of the world. Let him cast it forth, without misgiving or fear, to take its chance. If it have truth and beauty, it is vital, and will grow and germinate, and in its turn bear seed, and take its rank, high or humble, among the spiritual powers of life, in time and eternity. It appears from this work that Mr. Wallace belonged to this privileged and noble order of scholars and thinkers, and that he was laboring faithfully at his task when summoned away from earthly labors and hopes. He was working in the highest sphere of man's effort, the study of moral and spiritual truth, with what zeal and ability these fragments show. It is painful to receive them thus, and in their present shape. It would have been pleasant to greet this bold diver into the depths of the unknown, rising joyfully from the waves, and holding in his victorious hand the pearls of truth; to cheer him onward in his career, instead of lamenting its early close. We feel a sense of loss in thinking of all that he would have been and done. Therefore we the more wish to possess what he actually accomplished, and hope that a judi cious selection from the works he has left may be given to the public. The well-considered opinions and convictions of such a mind must be of value, and should not be withheld. They may not meet with ready reception and general appreciation, but works on philosophy are not popular, and the higher their merit, the more limited is their immediate influence and the more tardy their meed of fame. Yet both are sure to come at last. As Goethe says, "The truly great, the genuine, the sublime, The imperishable wreath, his best, his sole reward." ART. X.-Learning and Working. Six Lectures, delivered in Willis's Rooms, London, in June and July, 1854. The Religion of Rome, and its Influence on Modern Civilization. Four Lectures delivered in the Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh, in December, 1854. By FREDERIC DENISON MAURICE, M. A., Chaplain of Lincoln's Inn. Cambridge (England): Macmillan & Co. 12mo. pp. 350. THE name of Frederic Denison Maurice is known in this country better and better every year, and always as connected with some energetic and hopeful effort for the welfare of England. One of those faithful ministers of the English Church who have found out that, whatever the rust on her machinery, their business is to make it do what it will, and to trust God that he will work with them, Mr. Maurice, as a theologian, a classical scholar, or a social reformer, appears as a man more eager to work than to argue, and to set things right than to prove that others have been in the wrong. He catches the sympathy of his readers all the more, we believe, because it is quite clear that his natural genius tends not so much to execution as toward speculation, perhaps dreamy speculation. But the bent of his conscience is as decided towards action and immediate action. And his work in the world, as from our scattered observations it appears through three thousand miles of fog, is the resolute work of a religious man, who sees that, while it would be charming to talk about the causes and tendencies of the sorrows of England, God sent him and other men into the world to mend them before they talk about them. He could, undoubtedly, discuss the "condition-of-England question" with the daintiest of her political economists; but he chooses rather to do what he can to improve the condition of Englishmen. In sermons, lectures, tracts, and labor, Mr. Maurice shows the principle on which he relies in his hopes for his country and the world. It is a principle as old-fashioned as the truth of the Christian religion. The power of the Christian Gospel for lifting up those who have fallen down is no matter of rhetoric with him,— nor is it spoken of merely as a decent or dignified wind-up of schemes based on some lesser principle, -but it is the motive-power which propels his machinery, and the promises of its victory are the promises which give him encouragement. No careful readers, who watch the efforts of England, have failed to observe the passing notices of the Workingmen's College, established by Mr. Maurice during the last winter, in the northern part of London. The book which we have named at the head of this article contains his own account of his plans for that institution. Waiving, for the present, what would be the agreeable duty of reviewing all his considerable works, which now make a large collection, though he is still a young man, we propose to give some abstract of these plans; for we know we shall thus meet the wish of a large circle of readers here, who in their own duties, or their own wishes for the instruction of men, are anxious to know his system and its success. Mr. Maurice delivered these Lectures a year since, to explain the plan of his "Workingmen's College," before such an audience as was likely to meet at Willis's Rooms. By this somewhat courtly phrase is meant an audience from the upper classes, of the west end of London, Willis's Rooms being the rooms of the identical Willis known to novel-readers by the legends of Almack's. The Lectures go to the root of |