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a realistic philosophy may easily thus conceive divisions in the Divine substance, or at least personal relations in that substance. When necessary, the abstractions are put as existences; when necessary, the distinctions are resolved into unity.. again. The argument can only be construed as an effort of reason to vindicate her rights against a dogma which outrages reason. The following passage presents a curious parallel to certain modern theologians: "Every man ought to believe in a certain ineffable trine Unity, and one Trinity; one and Unity, on account of one essence; trine and Trinity, on account of three I know not what. For though I can say Trinity, on account of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, which are three; yet I cannot express by one name on what account they are three."* The want of a fitting name obliges us to use persons, while, however, they are not to be thought three


For the rest, there is much that is beautiful in the Monologium. The mind is not able to define or perfectly understand God; it can reason only by words common to other natures, - by similitudes. The word wisdom cannot express that by which all things were made from nothing, nor essence that which is above all essence. The supreme nature can only be known by that which is most like itself. "It is clear, then, that as the rational mind alone among all creatures can rise to search for the supreme, so through itself alone can it succeed in discovering the supreme. And this the rational creature ought to study, the likeness impressed upon it by natural constitution it ought to express by voluntary exertion."

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As made for love without end, he argues that the soul must be immortal to fulfil that end. "If for nothing God has given to the rational nature that it should love, what will he give if it shall not cease to love? If such is the court paid to love, what will be love's recompense?" "It is foolish, then, to doubt whether the soul shall enjoy the Supreme without end; since enjoying, it can neither be tormented by love, nor deceived by a false security, nor will God drive away him


* Monol. LXXVIII.

that loves him; nor will there be any strong powers to separate them unwilling. Wherefore, whatever soul shall once have begun to enjoy supreme beatitude will be forever happy."

The name of Anselm marks an era in the history of theology. The dogmas, which had taken a mythical form, and been fixed in the mind as objective facts rather than as personal experiences, were now to be subjectively appropriated by the intervention of theory. Myths were to be developed into conceptions. Up to this time the Atonement had been regarded as a price paid to the Devil in accordance with Divine justice. Anselm, in his " Cur Deus Homo?" introduced the satisfaction-theory, according to which the death of Christ was a price paid on behalf of the sinner to God.

Whatever may be thought of the philosophic and religious opinions of Anselm, his spiritual depth, his independence, his gentle piety, must ever give him a high place in the history of the human mind, as a star shining the more brightly for the darkness which surrounds it.

Mis übate


1. Beethoven. Historischer Roman. Von HERIBERT RAU. Frankfurt.

2. Charles Auchester. A Memorial. By E. BErger.

IN these days of book-making and of publishing, there is scarcely a life lived that does not stand some chance of being written about. Even commonplace and monotonous existences, from their very rarity, become interesting. We lead, in general, such varied lives, that it is refreshing to return to the even plain of one that is more quiet, and read its simple history; while we allow prominent characters no time to finish their work, before the history of their lives is published.

It is wonderful how this picturing of each generation changes

with the age. Our grandfathers and grandmothers seem to have lived biographies instead of lives. The formal arrangement and choice of words that tell their history, is like the more stately surroundings in which they moved from event to event, in a more imposing march than in the hurried action. of our days. Our detailed records, our more frequent letters and less concise language, on the other hand, are often prosaic in their very minuteness, and fail to present a grand or charming picture.

But in reading memoirs, of whatever age, we come back upon this fact, that their interest depends as much upon the talent of the historian as upon the subject of his book. Just as the musician must share the genius of the composer he is rendering, in order to give the full force and charm of his compositions, or the copyist must have taken in the inspiration of the artist whose work he is striving to repeat, so the biographer must have had the power, in some measure, to comprehend the greatness of the life he is trying to portray, and must own some original genius in order to complete his work truly.

It is for this reason the romance biographies of the present time are so attractive. They give an opportunity to the writer to bring out fully his own talent, unconsciously to himself almost, as a tribute to the hero whom he is attempting to describe. His object is to give some idea of the character of this hero, rather than an exact record of his life; of the effect that all its events and circumstances have produced upon him, rather than a mere recital of these events, or the nature of these circumstances.

Autobiographies approach such romance histories, because the author makes a hero of himself, looks upon himself and his past life from an ideal point of view, and unconsciously elevates himself and the circumstances around him. It is this that gives the charm to the De ma Vie of Madame Sand. One does not tire of the diffuse style in which she lingers over her childhood and youth, because she has the true romance power, the gift of making picturesque the scenes which she touches. And Alfieri's Autobiography interests in spite of its egotism, because one is forced to see in him the hero of

his book, to follow him in his vagaries, follies, and freaks of passion, and sympathize finally even in his high opinion of himself.

The author of "Charles Auchester" has succeeded most entirely in this art of romance biography. She calls her book A Memorial," a title which has been used by Auerbach and other German authors for books of this nature. In her story there is no effort at presenting an exact history of the life of its hero, Mendelssohn, but it leaves behind it the impression of his character, his influence, his whole personality, - the same impression that all more exact memoirs contribute to form, the same, indeed, that his own music conveys.

Although "Charles Auchester" was published in 1853, nearly ten years ago, it is a fitting time to speak of it now, by way of memorial for its author, whose early death, but a few months ago, sadly recalls to us her genius. Her book, a graceful and finished work of art, will hold her own name in memory, as well as that of its hero. The volume of Mendelssohn's "Travelling Letters," lately published in Germany, comes, too, at this time, as a proof of the truth of the picturing of Mendelssohn in "Charles Auchester." One lays down the book with a feeling that here are a few more chapters of "Charles Auchester." This charming book, the Reise Briefe, now published in a volume, has been translated the last winter for Dwight's "Journal of Music." If it were less accessible, we should be glad to take some passages from it, to lay by the side of passages from "Charles Auchester," to show how happily the author of the latter has seized upon the characteristics of Mendelssohn in her representation of him.

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As we pass from reading the Life of Mendelssohn to that of Beethoven, we seem to go from sunshine to shadow. There were, indeed, for Mendelssohn's sensitive spirit, and for his sympathetic nature, hours of great suffering, and periods of melancholy; but the circumstances of his life and the warm geniality of his disposition shed about him a sunshine that was wanting in Beethoven's more lonely career.

"Beethoven, an Historical Romance, by Heribert Rau," lately published in Germany, in four volumes, gives us an interest

ing life of the great composer. There is wanting to this book the inspiration that gives a charm to "Charles Auchester," but it follows closely upon the facts of Beethoven's life, as told by the friend of his later years, Anton Schindler, and it cannot fail of interest.

The story has some little account of Beethoven's youth, compelled early to find in his music his livelihood, anxious to support his mother, yet, as always, distrustful of friends, since so often unfortunate in choosing them, unwilling to submit to rules, and disdaining the drudgery of giving lessons. He found some amends for the discomforts of his own home in the house and kindly welcome of the Von Breunings in Bonn, to whose family influence, to the end of his life, Beethoven expressed himself indebted. Of his education Schindler says:

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"Beethoven's education was neither especially neglected, nor especially good. He gained some elementary knowledge and some Latin, at the public schools; he learned at home music, to which his father (whose mode of living was far from correct) attached much importance. It was always necessary to drive the ardent and often obstinate boy (who had no liking for sedentary habits) to the pianoforte. For playing the violin he had scarcely more fondness, and here I must pronounce as a mere idle tale - as a Mährchen -the story of a spider, that, 'as often as the little Ludwig played on the violin, in his small room, left the roof, and seated itself upon the violin,' and how 'his mother, when she discovered her little son's playfellow, put it to death, whereupon the little Ludwig broke his violin.' The great Ludwig could never recall such a fact, much as it amused him. On the contrary, he said that his vile scraping would have driven away everything, flies and spiders together."*

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In 1785, at the age of fifteen, Beethoven was appointed organist in the electoral chapel of the Elector Max Frans, brother of the Emperor Joseph II. The Elector was a lover of music and patron of musicians, and in 1792 gave Beethoven permission to go to Vienna, then the central point of musical education, and to take up his abode there. Mozart had been dead a year, but he had already said of Beethoven,

* Biographie von Ludwig von Beethoven, verfasst von Anton Schindler, pp. 18, 19.

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