abruptly stopped, and both limbs are set in motion for a definite end. You cannot explain this without reference to muscles and nerves, and the laws which determine their action; but it is not fully explained thus. Science does not come up with all the facts, and it is the will-problem which has once more brought it to a standstill. Granting that there are muscles, and nerves, and stores of nerve-energy, our question is, What set them all in motion at the instant? It was a thought suggested in the volume read which awakened the wish to verify it, and led to the volition to obtain the means of verification. And science tells us nothing of the will-power which sets the nerve-energy in motion for the attainment of a definite end—which end, it must be observed, is not a physical end which can be gained by muscular action alone, but a mental end, or end contemplated by the agent who has set the mechanism to work. There isquite naturally, I admit-a tendency among scientific men to attempt to bring the whole exercises of thought and will under play of the laws which regulate nerve-action; but in sight of even this simple example, the futility of the attempt is manifest. The duality of truth must be granted. There are facts which nerve-action does not explain, and these belong to a region from which nerve-action itself is governed; therefore the science of the facts must outstretch the science of the nerve system.

And now we are on the threshold of a vast region within which science is a comparative stranger, where references to nerve-currents become fewer and feebler, and traces of the influence of heredity have as yet made only uncertain outlines of footpaths. It is into this region we specially need to have science advance. We need to consider the will-power which governs the limbs, and finds in such government only a small part of its dominion. With such an example before us as that afforded by attentive reading, we seek to ascertain what science can say as to the acquiring of habits of attention. Are such habits the product of external influence brought to bear upon the individual, or the result of determination within the individual himself? We wish to ascertain all that can be gathered and systematized as to the influence of environment, and specially of education.

An exact science, marking with precision the

limits of the influence of these two, will contribute in a very important way to the common result sought by all lovers of truth. But such a science will be attained only by advancing beyond the lines of physiological research. We must know more of human nature, and more of the full range of human action, than physiology affords. Again, we have spoken of anger as characteristic of all the higher forms of organized life, and we observe certain ends served in the economy of things by this powerful impulse; but we find that the restraint of angry passion and the complete subjection of the impulse is aimed at by men. And here our questions start again in great number. What is the rational ground on which men aim at the establishment of self-government in this respect? Is there some clear law of human life which requires this, and which somehow does not apply to lower orders? If there be a fixed law in organic life which gives rise to irritation, is there somewhere deeper in human nature a law which requires a man to keep his irritation under control? And if there be, as men seem to agree that there is, how, is the control first attempted, and how is it gradually established in some cases, while it is not established in other cases? What do all these involve as to exercise of will? I might go on greatly beyond these questions, but space forbids. And I must ask my readers to observe that these are obvious and inevitable questions concerning the most ordinary and familiar affairs of every-day life. The science which does not touch them has a great part of its work to do, before it can profess to be a science of the universe. In view of all that "scientific materialism' has yet told us, it is very far from being a universal science. What the science of our times needs above all else is a fuller survey of the facts connected with human nature and the laws of its activity.

I have exhausted the space at my command in directing attention to the relations of science to the problem of will, and I must reserve for a subsequent article the relations of philosophy to the same great problem.

HENRY CALDERWOOD.

IT

ART AS AN INTERPRETER OF HISTORY.

T has been truly said that art, in its protean forms, is the historiographer of the world. It is equally true that its rich and manifold record is only beginning to be intelligently studied in our own period. To enunciate the problem more clearly, our theory is that art, taken even by itself-and of course more powerfully when combined with other inquiries —is an interpreter of the character, conditions, and social, religious, and political sentiments of the people among whom, and the periods in which, its great works have been presented. Thus Egyptian art is full of Egyptian history; Grecian art teaches the history of Greece and the Greeks; in a word, all art is a record of individual, social, and national life. There is a truthful story in the ruins of the sun-temple at Baalbec—

Or, to take the most familiar and striking illustration: what a series of commingling histories clusters around the temples that have crowned the holy mount at Jerusalem! First, the hope of David and the fruition of Solomon, a thousand years before Christ; the materials and the workmen brought from distant countries; the liberal payment of wheat and barley to Hiram, King of Tyre; the Phoenician navigation of the Midland Sea. Then, five hundred years later, the terrible destruction by Nebuchadnezzar; then the return of the ransomed, by permission of Cyrus, with songs and joy, to rebuild it. The second temple is replete with history, in the great lacuna between the last of the prophets and the appearance of Herod the Great, which we can only fill by the record of Josephus and

the Apocryphal books. How the interest increases with the story of Herod, his rebuilding of the former structure, and the appearance in its courts of Him who came at once to destroy and to fulfil! Last of all came the terrible siege, after which not one stone was left upon another, save the deep foundation-wall, where the Jews yet weep unavailing tears, in mourning for the past, and with but vague hope of the future.

The history of the temple on Mount Moriah is the history of the Jews and the partial history of the many peoples who had to do with their checkered fortunes. And now upon its site stands another stone record, in the famous Gameat el Sakhra, that famous mosque of Omar, which eclipses the sanctity of the temples of Mecca and Medina, the first strongholds of Islam.

This by way of general illustration. To treat the subject justly and adequately would require, in combination, the talent and training of an artist and the pen of a historian. For, if the writer be an artist only, he will be concerned about the technicalities of art and neglect the history; and if he be a historian alone, he will certainly be in danger of neglecting those art details from which he should gather his philosophy. It has been unfortunate that these two characters have been rarely conjoined, and that, consequently, the historic relations and teachings of art form an almost entirely new topic in the school of modern history. Thus fairly acknowledging the difficulty, and with no claim to be an artist, but only a student of History, I propose to offer some facts and some suggestions bearing upon the discussion of this most interesting problem. That it is of very general and increasing interest is manifest from the numerous books on art which have been recently issued, the great numbers of our people who study art in foreign galleries, and the pleasure with which art-lectures are beginning to be greeted all over the land.

It is significant to observe that the modern word asthetics was first applied to the realm of beauty and taste by the German Alexander Baumgarten, no longer ago than. the middle of the eighteenth century, and it can hardly be said to have taken its place even now in the curriculum of general education in America. It is still considered a speculative and unestablished science in the domain of psychology.

Derived from the Greek verb Aio@avoμai, to perceive, it

considers the perceptive faculty as engaged in the discovery and analysis of beauty. The entire field of man's inquiry is mapped out into three portions, occupied by the three comprehensive ideas-the good, the true, and the beautiful. The science which establishes truth is logic; that of which the province is the good is ethics. The beautiful falls to the share of æsthetics, which in the scheme of psychology is thus co-ordinate with logic and ethics.

All three are necessary to the study of art in its historic relations; but before we can enter upon these relations, art must be studied in and by itself, and here we are in the uninvaded realm of æsthetics.

The announcement of this new science has caused a change in the classification of the arts and sciences; for æsthetics is concerned about beauty wherever it is found, and thus lays its hand upon every art of which beauty is an element. It takes cognizance of poetry, music, painting, architecture, sculpture, and all forms and varieties of decorative art. Wherever a glimpse of beauty is seen, æsthetic science eagerly pursues it, and subjects it to scrutiny, inductively seeking to understand its essence, determine its laws, and account for its wonderful influence.

But the special subject of this paper is confined within narrower limits it comprises the fine arts, in the ordinary acceptation of the term, architecture, sculpture, and painting; and even this range is too extensive for our present space; we must limit ourselves to the consideration of the first two.

Architecture, as a practical art, combines utility, of a material kind, with beauty. Sculpture, designed primarily to please and elevate by preserving the worship of the gods and the memories of men, depends upon a partial imitation, of which the essence is form. Painting is more or less an illusion, obtained by adding color and shade to form.

Each makes its historic record distinct from the others, but architecture and sculpture have joined their stories with wonderful effect; while painting has often added its graces to their union, as in the wonderful frescoes of the Renaissance. at Rome.

I. First, of architecture in history. We shall find this art in the beginning arising from the simplest needs of men. The ear