the most intelligible, general account of what is known of animated nature. Professor Burmeister is free from the prejudices of all schools, from the narrowness of some specialists, and from hasty devotion to unestablished theories; but he fairly states the evidence in favor of the views to which the scientific world now leans, without disguising their difficulties or their unsolved problems. The changes which the earth has undergone in condition and temperature, with their causes, the origin of life, the succession of organisms, and the relations of species to one another, are among the subjects which he discusses, with such sobriety and fulness of knowledge, that some of the leading European critics rank his recent eighth edition with Humboldt's "Cosmos" in importance. A French translation of this work, by M. E. Maupas, has just appeared (Paris, F. Savy), and will bring it within reach of many to whom the German original is inaccessible. Now that a host of English works on various branches of the same subject are claiming attention, many of them misleading or worthless, it is to be hoped that this standard and authoritative treatise will be translated.

We cannot call any thing of Mr. Richard A. Proctor's either worthless or misleading, without qualification; but his new work, "Other Worlds than Ours; the Plurality of Worlds Studied under the Light of Recent Scientific Researches" (London, Longmans, Green & Co.), is certainly disappointing. Mr. Proctor thinks that recent discoveries in astronomy have gone very far to prove that some of the other planets are inhabited by living beings, if not by intelligent observers of the skies, and he devotes a volume of more than three hundred pages to setting them forth in this point of view. His presentation of them, though excessively diffuse, is often interesting, but he makes out no case. It is of Mars that he thinks his point best proved, and he enthusiastically discusses "Mars, the miniature of our earth;" but the established facts on which he relies are simply that

this planet has a varied surface, which may be made up of land and water; that it has an atmosphere, of unknown density and composition, which contains something like watery vapor, and throws down, in winter, heavy masses of something like snow; and that its cold winters and changes of climate, though far more severe than ours, may possibly be so tempered by atmospheric influences as not at once to destroy all such life as we know. When we consider how very slight a change in the composition of the atmosphere, as, for example, either an increase or a deficiency in the amount of carbonic acid, would destroy vegetable and animal life; or how, in the absence of the moon-and Mars has none-the ocean would become stagnant, or how quickly every living thing would perish, even on the earth, were it removed as far from the sun as Mars is, or any of a score of other nice balances between destructive powers, which are essential to the habitability of the earth, Mr. Proctor's scientific arguments appear of little value. It is really the theological argument from final causes alone on which the book rests-assuming that the worlds were created for a purpose, and, unable to conceive of any worthy purpose but as the scene of life, the author concludes that this must be their raison d'étre. This reasoning recurs on every page; but, good or bad, it has nothing to do with science.

One of the most entertaining books of the year is "A Series of Letters of the First Earl of Malmesbury, his Family and Friends, from 1745 to 1820," edited by his grandson, the Right Honorable the Earl of Malmesbury, G. C. B. (2 vols., London, Bentley). The first Earl was the son of Mr. James Harris, the author of the once famous "Hermes," or Principles of Universal Grammar, and therefore the grandnephew of the great Lord Shaftesbury, of the "Characteristics." Oxford boy, of Fox's set; entered the diplomatic service at Madrid in 1767, and, from that time until his death, in 1820, was intimately acquainted with

He was an

all the secret history and with all the leading statesmen of Europe. The Earl's diaries and public correspondence were published by the same editor in 1844; but the cream of history is that which does not come first to the surface, and nothing more rich than these volumes in hints to the historian, for unravelling the plots that define nations and build up dynasties, and for illustrating the manners of the times, has of late years been given to the press.

The action of the Convocation of Canterbury, in appointing committees of scholars to revise the authorized version of the Scriptures, has given rise to endless discussion in the English journals, but with small results in contributions to the subject. Dr. C. J. Ellicott publishes his "Considerations on the Revision of the English Version of the New Testament" (London, Longmans), which contain nothing new. The Convocation is not likely to sanction any thing but the most conservative treatment of King James's text; and both the bigoted friends and the severest critics of that work seem to expect that its revision will only unsettle people's confidence in the words of their Bible, without really meeting the demand for a fair representation in the

rate work on Suicide ("Etude sur le Suicide et les Maladies Mentales dans le département de Seine-et Maine, avec points de comparaison près en France et a l'étranger. Paris, Masson "). He has examined the subject in a broader light than any of the statisticians or medical jurists who have treated it, investigating the relations of suicide, and of the states of mind which occasion it, to age, sex, and race, to the climate and the seasons, to occupations, passions, and habits, to political and economical causes, and to social customs. There are few problems which have puzzled social philosophers more than the explanation of some of the strange uniformities presented by the statistics of suicide; as, for instance, why far more Scandinavians and Germans kill themselves than Italians or Sclavonians; why self-murder is everywhere far more common in summer than in winter; why fewer men and more women commit suicide on Sunday than on any other day; facts, some of which M. Le Roy sucand many other curious general ceeds not only in explaining, but in making instructive, as instances of striking induction from statistical information. It will surprise many to learn that the bad preeminence in the proportion of suicidal deaths common

ern scholarship.

M. Emile Le Roy, already famous as a scientific physiologist and physician, has just published an elabo

supposed to belong to France is real

ly characteristic only of Paris, and that self-murder is really fifty per cent. more common among the British people than among the French.

hundred and fifty easily-read pages-it really flings down the gauntlet in the face of a whole library of tomes, and endeavors to show, in bold, unsparing strokes, what Shakespeare was, what he was not and could not have been, for whom he wrote, how he wrote, the grave defects of his composition, his individuality, his social position, his literary position as compared with Goethe. We may disagree with this or that view taken by the author, we may not admit certain points in his theories upon art and character; but we cannot, I think, deny him the credit of having produced a masterpiece of criticism. In simplicity of style, in clearness of conception and directness of purpose, it is not surpassed, scarcely even approached, by any other essay in any language. Mr. Lowell's recent essay is throughout fascinating, the work of one gifted with poetic sympathy. But, apart from the fact that it too is written in the wonted style of panegyric, and never suggests, even faintly, the suspicion that Shakespeare could go astray, I doubt whether it will give us a tangible conception of the man Shakespeare as he must have been. At the risk of beginning where I should end, I will give a few of Rümelin's concluding, half-apologetic remarks. "We have endeavored to sketch, within the nimbus that encircles the image of Shakespeare so that most of us can no longer recognize it, the light outlines of a human form; in the place of a Titan myth, we have endeavored to set a historically circumscribed and conceivable personage. In so doing we were of course obliged to point out dark spots and limitations. Perhaps we have even discussed these defects more thoroughly and dwelt upon them more sharply than would have been necessary for the mere purpose of taking a correct estimate of Shakespeare in himself and in his relations to his contemporaries. But, at the same time, it was a matter of rebuking a disposition to glorification at the expense of our own men of genius, a disposition for which the British poet himself is in no wise to blame. . . . In endeavoring to substitute unprejudiced

impressions and definite opinions for indefinite phrases, we thought that the true friends of the beautiful, to whom distinct lines must ever be more acceptable than indistinct ones, would be pleased rather than angry with us therefor. May they correct what is amiss, supply what is wanting! We trust, however, that we have not disturbed or spoiled any one's pleasure in the poet himself. His richness is so extraordinary that, even after our abatement of unqualified predicates, an abundance of beauties still remains. If we examine a planet with the aid of a glass, its lustre and radiance, it is true, will be diminished; but as we recognize a structure similar to our earth, the vision becomes fuller of significance and expectancy."

In the first chapter, Rümelin gives a sketch of the position occupied by the English stage in Shakespeare's time, disposing briefly but effectually of the theory, held by so many, that the stage of that century was a national one, like the Greek, the Spanish, or the French. A national theatre is one that elicits the attention and sympathy of all classes of the people, and in which the entire nation finds expression for its peculiar views, the mirror of its past and present. That the stage of England could not be such an one, is evident from the fact that a great and growing part of the nation was cordially averse to it. The magistrates of London did not persecute the theatres in the latter half of the sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth centuries in spite of the people of London, but because of the people, who, rapidly become puritanized, looked with more and more anger upon these plague-spots. The queen and her councillors rather protected than persecuted the theatres. After the destruction of the Spanish Armada had placed the triumph of Protestantism in England beyond all doubt, the deferred conflict between Puritans and Churchmen gradually assumed shape and intensity, and, as the Puritans grew in number, they made their displeasure felt in every way, first banishing all theatres outside the limits of the city proper, and never

resting until they had finally secured the suppression of the stage throughout the kingdom. In Shakespeare's time the patrons of the theatre were to be divided into two sharply defined classes: the lower people, who went to be amused with spectacle and declamation, and the young nobility, the jeunesse dorée, as Rümelin calls them, the wealthy and unoccupied young bachelors about town, who went partly because such an atmosphere and such surroundings suited their temperament, partly because it was the fashion. Reputable women scarcely ever went. In fact, there was no suitable place for them. The parts of the female characters being acted by boys, and the audience being made up chiefly of men, with some women of not very reputable morals, we need not wonder, then, at the freedom from the restraints of decency that disfigures so many of Shakespeare's plays. To us, Shakespeare is the great poet and revealer of the secrets of the heart. In his own day and generation, Shakespeare was nothing but a playwright, an actor, a theatre-manager; and, however rich he might become, the stain of such a vocation was not to be wiped out. doors of good society were closed upon him; outside of the walls of the theatre-we cannot shut our eyes to the fact -he was more or less ostracised. Small wonder, then, that his sonnets are pitched in the minor key.

The

The defects of the German school of criticism are dealt with summarily. Having so little positive information upon Shakespeare's life and character, these critics, disregarding the limitations that necessarily hem in the life of any man, no matter how gifted, have depicted Shakespeare as a sort of gigantic spirit, looming up between the Middle Ages and modern times, scarcely touching his own age and generation with the soles of his feet, but striding on over peoples and centuries. Only when it becomes necessary to explain some obvious defect, are these critics willing to take any note of the character of the times. Gervinus in particular, who has been so cold and fastidious toward every thing German,

pushes his panegyric of Shakespeare so far that we must suspect him of having before his eyes, not the genuine William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon, but the poet that he wishes and seeks for the German people; as Tacitus describes the Germans, not so much as they really were, but as he would have the Romans.

For whom did Shakespeare compose his plays? Upon the answer that we give to this question will depend, far more than is generally believed, a correct appreciation of them. In the first. place, they were written for a living, sympathizing audience-not for a community of scrutinizing readers. Shakespeare knew that scenic effect was every thing in the drama, and, as might be shown, he did not hesitate to sacrifice the perfect finish of the plot to the movement of the single scene. The uncritical spectator must be aroused and fascinated at the moment, and is not apt to remember clearly what has gone before, or speculate too closely upon what is to come. Again, as the play was not published-in order to retain the right of property in it-the author, if himself the proprietor, was always more or less tempted to insert or amend, whether to prevent literary theft, or to keep afresh the interest of the audience. Rümelin claims that these two causes, writing for scenic effect and careless alteration or omission after the first act of composition, will explain many of the incongruities and inconsistencies in Shakespeare's dramas. The single scene is always vigorous; the plot, as a whole, may be imperfectly motived. An example of inconsistency that is not mentioned by Rümelin may be found in the Merchant of Venice. In Act I, Scene 3, Shylock replies to an invitation to dinner: "I will buy with you, sell with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you." But in Act II, Scene 5, he says:

"I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
But yet I'll go, in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian."

And he does go. Such inconsistency would be scarcely possible had Shake