Of printed Bibles there were few in his library; one-a Latin version in three volumes, purple morocco, printed by Fran. Gryphius, 1541, and adorned, as the title puts it, with images suitable no less for their beauty than for their truth-has the cuts resembling Holbein's work in "Icones Historiarum Veteris Testamenti" (Lyons, apud Joannem Frellonium, 1547). But he loved mediæval illumination, and owned too many thirteenth and fourteenth-century Bibles, Psalters, and Missals to be described in this paper. The one he prized most is known as King Hakon's Bible, from a reference on the fly-leaf to King Hakon V. of Norway. It is a small volume with 613 leaves of the thinnest vellum, measuring no more than 41⁄4 by 61⁄4 inches, and written in tiny black-letter, double-columned; every page ornamented; there are more than eighty delicately painted pictures, and hundreds of daintily colored initials; a perfect treasury of decorative art. The binding is of the sixteenth century, and thought to be English; boards covered with brown leather, brass bosses and clasps, and stamped with panels of griffins in relief and the motto repeated between them of "Jhesus help." The book is French work of the middle of the thirteenth century, and the black-letter inscription reads, "Anno dni. M°. CCC°. X°. istum librum emit fr. hanricus prior provicialis a conventu hathersleu. de dono dni. regis Norwegie," which is to say: "In 1310 brother Henry, provincial prior, bought this book from the Conventus (whatever that means) at Haderslev (in Sleswig) out of the gift of my lord the king of Norway." It hardly seems as though the king had owned the book, as Ruskin believed when he bought it, but it is not surprising that the National Library at Christiania was disappointed in finding that it had gone into his hands from Quaritch's catalogue, just too soon for

them; and that the Norwegians sent a scholar to report upon it, Herr Kristian Koren; and that on Ruskin's death they again tried to become possessors, though Ruskin's heirs have, so far, not seen their way to part with the treasure he so much valued.

These were all library Bibles, kept in his study, and used there; but in travelling he had various little testaments which he carried with him, such as the set shown in the Ruskin Exhibition at Coniston in 1900. In his bedroom, for reading on wakeful nights, he had the "Stereotype Clarendon Press Bible, Printed by Samuel Collingwood and Co." in six volumes, one being the Apocrypha, and this, like others, bears marks of much use in notes and pencillings.

Quite at the end, his eyesight failed him for smaller type, and Mrs. Severn bought him a larger-typed Bible, which he read, or had read to him, constantly, up to his death. The only bit of his writing in it is a note of his sadder moods, "The burden of London, Isaiah xxiv."; I suppose he refers to the words, "Behold, the Lord maketh the earth empty . . . From the uttermost part of the earth have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous. But I said, My leanness, my leanness, woe unto me! ." Those who read "Fors" know how little he trusted our imperialistic optimism.

Such a Bible-reader one might think, would have collected something in the way of a theological library, what are called helps to Bible-reading. But no! he read neither commentators nor modern critics, and I believe he had no interest in anybody's views about exegesis or analysis. He kept by him a few volumes of reference: Smith's "Bible Dictionary," Cruden, the Englishman's "Greek Concordance," Sharpe's "Translation of the Hebrew Scriptures" (he knew no Hebrew), and there were two copies of Finden's

"Landscape Illustrations of the Bible," one for his study and one for his bedroom. But even these few were little used; to him the plain old text was the book he studied all through his eighty years, and knew as not many in this generation know it. Once in his rooms

Good Words.

at Oxford I remember getting into a difficulty about the correct quotation of some passage. "Haven't you a concordance?" I asked. "I'm ashamed to say I have," he said. I did not quite understand him. "Well," he explained, "you and I oughtn't to need Cruden!" W. G. Collingwood.

The Life of Dr. Martineau, written with notable amplitude of detail, yet with becoming reserve, is before us in two portly volumes.' The scope is large enough to satisfy the most exacting affection; the accuracy, even allowing for an occasional slip, is thorough and rare; the tone is reverent, the spirit independent, and the treatment throughout impartial, while as fond as an admiring discipleship can make it. The first part is biographical, and cannot be charged with being either brief or frivolous; the second part, which is from another hand, deals with the philosophy, and is at once vigorous and lucid. The duplication of authorship has its advantages, for the field was at first so well gleaned that the second gleaner is tempted to carry off bodily some of the sheaves. Yet Dr. Martineau's significance is so much due to the philosophy he stood for that without a full study of him as a thinker his biography would not have been either satisfactory or complete. And the philosopher has here a lighter and more springy step than the biographer. The book, as a whole, may be said to be rather colorless, to want both the atmosphere and the background which were needed to bring out the propor

1 "The Life and Letters of James Martineau,' by James Drummond, M. A., LL. D., Litt. D.

tions of the central figure. But its sobriety and its conscientious workmanship entitle it to a high place in the class of literature to which it belongs.

Dr. Martineau came of a fine stock, for in him the blood of the French Huguenot blended with the blood of the English Puritan. He owed to the one his keen and delicate intelligence, the elaborate elegance of his style and his love of the true as the Beautiful and the Good; and to the other his severe conscientiousness, his ideal of freedom, his ethical passion, his strenuous obedience to the conscience which he held to be the voice of God. It used to be said that Harriet Martineau was the man of the family and James the woman, but this biography proves the saying to be not even superficially true. There is in the man as he here appears a singular strength of will, integrity of nature and devotion to both intellectual and moral ideals. There is indeed a curious detachment in his friendships; though he is, in his way through life, anything but companionless, or unaccompanied by the affection that loves to admire and follow. But in his highest moods he dwells alone save for the God with whom he

and C. B. Upton, B. A., B. Sc. Two volumes, London (James Nisbet and Co.) 1902.

seems to speak face to face. Where he has a belief to vindicate or an ideal to pursue nothing personal is allowed to stand in the way. He has several beautiful friendships among the men of his own age, Charles Wicksteed, William Gaskell, John Hamilton Thom, John James Tayler; and these he loved with a devotion as rare at it was constant. And no one who ever heard him speak of the man to whose memory he dedicated his "Study of Religion," can ever forget the tenderness that stole into his austere face, flushed his pale features, and brought the tear into his introspective yet forward-looking eye at the mention of "the friendship" and "the companionship in duty and in study" which for thirty years made his lofty not a solitary way. He had many admirers among pupils, though perhaps but one pre-eminent friend. Richard Holt Hutton was not only a great editor, but also a clear if not a subtle thinker, a man of intensely religious and ethical nature who achieved much for the political education of his time because of the fine fusion in him of spiritual emotion with moral passion. Hutton was indeed an admiring disciple, but it is doubtful whether he ever fully appreciated what he owed to Martineau, to the solicitude that watched over his forming, and never ceased to regard wistfully the intelligence it had done so much to discipline. But Martineau's heart was given to ideas rather than to persons. This . finds its best known, though not its most characteristic, illustration in what we may term the affair of his sister Harriet. She must have beento use the very descriptive phrase which the elder Mrs. Carlyle applied to her own son:-"Gey ill to dae wi'," which means "not easy to get along with." But this temper of hers came from the same sort of moral integrity or ultra-conscientiousness which we have so frequent occasion to admire

in her brother James. A saying of hers was once reported to me by a friend who heard it, which shows the womanly instinct that guided her moral judgments. They had been talking of a distinguished philosopher and the affection he had entertained for his wife while she was still the wife of another. Harriet Martineau broke out in impassioned speech somewhat to this effect: "He had no right to indulge his affection at the expense of an innocent household. He had found a woman fairly contented with her lot, with a husband and a family living in comfortable good feeling each toward the other. When he realized that his affection for this woman was growing into a passion he ought to have withdrawn from her society and stamped out his feeling for her, but instead he continued within her spell and allowed it to become mutual and so potent that it alienated the wife from the husband, and broke up the family." And the man she thus severely censured she refused to count among her friends. The anecdote is repeated not to be endorsed, but simply to show that in Harriet Martineau there was a kind of moral intolerance which could not have been unknown to her brother. He had himself the same characteristic, though he had it under more masculine control. But the brother and sister were too much alike in their moral tendencies to get along easily together. Like a woman she was apt to defend opinions which were those of a person she admired, just as she was ready to despise the person who held opinions from which she strongly dissented. When she fell under the influence of Atkinson and their "Letters on the Laws of Man's Nature and Development" were published, her brother as one of the editors of the "Prospective Review" had to consider whether he should examine the book. He knew the temper of his sister, but he knew

also what loyalty to his own beliefs required; and he elected to defend these beliefs even though his sister should suffer from his criticism. He judged that his public duties as reviewer and teacher did not allow him to be silent, however much he would have preferred as a brother not to speak. Those who have never had to choose between his alternatives may be fitly left to judge him; I will not.

Dr. Martineau was born a Unitarian. The body is small and recent, .but its history is ancient. He had inherited with his blood the special French and English types of Presbyterian character, notably their severity of conscience, their love of order, and their devotion to an ideal faith and duty. It has been said that small bodies are less national than large, that they tend to be limited in spirit, local and prejudiced in mind, thinking and feeling like men who live outside the great streams which flow through such broad channels as the Church and the Universities. But have not some of our brightest and largest spirits been formed in small societies? In proportion to their numbers the Friends have rendered more pre-eminent service to England than any other body of Christian men. Their founder taught them to live for great moral and religious ends in total indifference to forms whether religious or social. From William Penn they learned to respect the lower races and to be ready to deal with them as possessing the rights and the capabilities of men. In Elizabeth Fry was expressed their sense of obligation to the criminal and the outcast classes, the conviction that the man in the prison was still a man whose misdeeds could not justify us in forgetting our own duties. From Joseph Lancaster came the feeling of obligation to the ignorant, to the children that needed to be educated and schooled. Without men like Joseph Sturge the eman

cipation of the slaves would have been impossible, or the feeling, which has done so much to ennoble our race, that where England reigned there freedom must rule, and freedom could not rule where justice was denied. John Bright taught us the truth that freedom,—and not the force that remedied no ill,was the true cure for disorder, that law ought not to favor special classes or enrich the few while impoverishing the many. I have a profound reverence for societies like these, whose services have enlarged both the idea and the practice of humanity, and given the poor in all lands where English power has been felt cause to remember the higher motives of the English people.

In a less degree-as it seems to me -the same claim of a largeness which is more than national may be made on behalf of the Unitarian societies. They have not preserved their early faith, but they have maintained and indeed augmented their early enthusiasm for humanity, so that we may say that just as they have ceased to emphasize traditional dogmas they have emphasized moral qualities, patriotic and public service. It does not fall to me to describe the history or to indicate the forces that have worked for change in the Unitarian mind. One may protest against tyranny till the very idea of freedom is lost, and it is possible that the Unitarian Churches have so loved freedom that they have come to forget that it is rather a means to an end than an end in itself. This may or may not be so; but one thing seems clear: That James Martineau owed much of his power and the lucid tenacity with which he fought for his beliefs possibly to the paucity of the beliefs he held, but still more to the splendid moral past they embodied to his imagination. He had not a whole ecclesiastical system to defend, nor could he invoke such a system in his

It

own defence. If his beliefs were limited his belief was intense, rooted in the very marrow of his mind. While men were thinking of the Eucharist, of the priestly office, of absolution and the confessional, he was thinking of God and how to vindicate the faith in Him and His being to faith. A distinguished Anglican, long gone from our midst, once asked me if I did not think Martineau more than any other man fulfilled Novalis' aphorism as to Spinoza, a "God-intoxicated man." was true; God possessed him, inspired him, ruled him. His ambition was to hear God speak in conscience and to obey the law God proclaimed there. And this ambition Martineau largely owed to his Unitarian birth and breeding. His Church in the form he knew it had been made by Joseph Priestley. Priestley was a man of courage as well as conviction; who had, with a fearlessness which made the criticisms of Principal Robertson or of Lord Hailes seem flaccid and feeble, though with less knowledge and courtesy than Bishop

Watson displayed, written against Gibbon's famous Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters in the "Decline and Fall." In Martineau's own city learned families like the Taylors had lived and given distinction both to the city and the society. In secondary education men like Lant Carpenter had done for the dissenters what schools of prouder uame and less efficiency were doing for the Anglican Church. In the Seminary at York where Martineau was educated, men taught whose characters would have distinguished any society. Of one of them, Martineau said, "He never justified a prejudice; he never misdirected our admiration; he never hurt an innocent feeling or overbore a serious judgment; and he set up within us a standard of Christian scholarship to which it must ever exalt us to aspire." And as to the other he said the late Dean Stanley was jus

tified in placing him "in the same line with Blomfield and Thirlwall," for he stood "so far above the level of either vanity or dogmatism, that cynicism itself could not think of them in his presence."

But Dr. Martineau concerns us here mainly under two aspects, as a divine and as a philosopher. As a divine he was at once a theological critic and a religious teacher. Ι ase the term "critic" deliberately, for in theology he was nothing if not critical. Certainly "positive" would be the last term one could here apply to him. He interpreted, construed and conserved no. single doctrine specially distinctive of the Christian religion. But he effected radical changes not only in the form but in the very material of the faith his people had lived by. His primary interests were philosophical and his theology was not so much interpreted through his philosophy as adapted to it. When he became a minister he found the Unitarian Churches with certain fixed traditions, certain very defined beliefs and a temper which controversy had made watchful and quick, critical and dogmatic, equally swift to assail a foe or defend a belief. Its philosophy had been more varied than its theology, and while to its contemporaries its spirit was more critical than conservative, to us its conservatism is more remarkable and pronounced than its criticism. On the dogmatic side its views have been throughout the greater part of the eighteenth century what were termed Socinian, towards the end of the century they tended to become Unitarian. The distinction between these terms may be thus indicated: the Socinian view was the more soteriological-i.e., it emphasized the work of Christ and endeavored to show how it gained in humanity and became more agreeable to reason by His person and action being read in historical rather than in