the latter stood at the beginning of a long descent. But this was not the

crucial moment in the lives of both. For when Hester Prynne publicly accepted her decree, and, with a sincere repentance, put on the " Scarlet Letter"— that moment it ceased to be a badge of shame and became a symbol of the upward strivings and the "purification as by fire" of its wearer's heart. But when Arthur Dimmesdale, by his silence, allowed Hester to take up alone her burden of shame, which should have been equally divided between them, there began for him a life of most intense torture and of spiritual retrogression.

During the twenty years in which Pearl grew from infancy to womanhood, Hester Prynne, sometimes through the public, sometimes through Arthur Dimmesdale, sometimes through their child, but more often through the bitter yearnings of her own heart,—was taught the force of the law she had broken. But suffer as she might she kept unflinchingly to the path of rectitude which she had chosen, and at the end of these long years, we find her not only a beneficent factor in the life of the village- but a higher type of womanhood than she could ever have become as the wife of Roger Chillingworth. During these years had Arthur Dimmesdale's nature been less delicate less finely attuned to higher laws-his conscience would have become dulled and hardened by this constant remorse. As it was, all of God's gifts that were the choicest became to him the ministers of spiritual torment. And when, at the end of this time, his conscience finally tortured him into a confession which should have been made long before, his spiritual life was dwarfed to such an extent that even by the most strenuous efforts he could never place himself where Hester Prynne then stood.

Nowhere in modern literature is the lesson more insistently taught than here, that a crime confessed and repented of is the basis of a spiritual progression, but, one concealed, although it may be remorsefully, is just as surely the basis of a spiritual retrogression.

At the first glance the problem in "The Marble Faun" might seem identical with that just discussed, but, more closely studied, we find the added element of the effect of sin upon such a nature as

Donatello's.

"Donatello was not so

much a man as a child; not so much a child as a happy young animal." In fact when these sylvan traits were noticed in the young count, it was whispered among the peasants of Monte Beni that they were the results of the union, in the idyllic age, of this family with the water nymphs and fauns.

Donatello's life in Rome was one of almost perfect freedom and happiness. His friendship with Miriam was at first as simple and unrestrained as though they were really the children they often seemed. This friendship which appeared likely to develop into the same sort of a simple happy love, was changed in an instant into one of the most horrible and tormenting of unions,- when Donatello in a fit of jealous rage killed the man whom he deemed his rival and Miriam's evil genius. Miriam's share in this crime is very subtly portrayed, for she becomes Donatello's accomplice, not by verbal consent, not by actual participation, but by the look of consent which he read in her

eyes at the fatal moment. This partnership in crime, which at first gave them a sense of relief, became more and more galling as they felt themselves separated, and yet held together, by a bond from which it was impossible to escape, and which was so full of torture that they shrank from that companionship which once had been their highest bliss.

Someone has said that sin, both etymologically and metaphysically, is a separation from the principle of life. This idea is finely illustrated in Donatello's character, for in his youth he seemed to possess a charm by which all of the woodland creatures which usually look on man as their deadliest enemy, flocked around him at his call with no more fear than if he had been a veritable faun. But not until Donatello found that the feathered and furry tribes no longer came at his call, but even shrank from him, did he fully realize that this broken law not only separated him from mankind but also from the whole realm of nature:

and thus the gay faun who shed blood for her whom he loved, grew sad and human under the consciousness of sin.

The spotless purity of Hilda amid her doves, the sweet domestic virtues of Phoebe shining all the brighter for their being contrasted with the musty gloom of the ancient Pyncheons, the exuberant

joyfulness of Pearl's childhood ought to be a sufficient refutation of the charge that Hawthorne delineates from choice the darker, more tragic side of life. Although Hawthorne gives us no mathematical solution of the problems he has put before us yet the admonition with

A NOISELESS REVOLUTION

THE threatening rumble of a revolution is always known to the elect few, while its pregnant signs are unnoted by the multitude. We use the expression, "the times are ripe," when the knowlege of some inevitable change has permeated all layers of society and has become the common property of all. We have reached this stage at the present day, for the bold plea made by our nineteenth century poets and seers for liberty in creed and constitution has fulfilled its office, which was to touch the common heart and lead the way to higher progress. The voices of the multitude have taken up the message delivered by sage and poet, and the world realizes at last, with the definite knowledge of the oracle, that it is standing on the brink of some vast change.

We feel that we have outgrown the garments which were once deemed so fair a fit, and our theological and political old clothes have suddenly assumed a look of threadbare meanness and narrowness.

Hitherto, all revolutions have begun and ended in war, disunion and radical division, but the revolution of the nineteenth century will be, as it has been, a noiseless one, and we will only cease to hold the old creeds when we have become firmly rooted in the new and broader ones.

It is a startling thought that a religious change should be other than peaceful, yet this revolution will be the only one which has closed in an ircrease of harmony and unity. The reformation is a mental one, for it is our intellectual attitude which is undergoing such radical change. We, as a nation, are experiencing something of the charity and breadth of middle age, and, if we succeed in keeping the enthusiasm and fervor of our youth, we may justly feel proud of our progress.

The death knell of dogmatism has struck; in science, in religion, in politics,

which he closes "The Scarlet Letter" is a universal key to the solution of these and all like problems:-"Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world if not your worst, yet some trait whereby your worst may be inferred." M. B. JORDAN.

we associate culture with breadth of view, and the higher education now cultivates an investigating, catholic spirit, which harmonizes all opposing forces. At no other period of the world's history could a Congress of Religions have been held and in no other country but America could quite the same work have been effected. The revolution was then inaugurated and it has ever since been quietly and noiselessly doing its allotted task.

The church of the future will not be founded, as were all previous churches, on differences of belief, but on the common faiths which bind men together, and the cornerstone of the new edifice will be the brotherhood of man. We have not yet reached that development, which would bring all our creeds into complete harmony with spiritual laws, but our advance, when compared with the bigotry of past ages, is enormous, and we may be proud that this change has taken place in favored America. The leaven of higher ideals is permeating every condition of life; the old, political doctrines, once believed to embody the wisdom of all time, appear narrow and inflexible, and the foolish conceit of our youth is passing away. Emerson accused us of being vain of our political institutions, and said of them: " They are not better, but only better for us. Democracy is better for us, because the religious sentiment of the present time accords better with it. Our institutions coincide with the spirit of the age." This was then true, but even truer now, for the spirit of our day is expansive, charitable, critical, humble and investigating. We are not so sure as we used to be; the fruit of some of our social institutions is now being eaten and the taste is as the apples of Sodom in our mouths. We are filled with forebodings that we have not builded as firmly as we thought. We want freer movement in our social rela

tions and we are seeking to bridge over the chasm yawning between the submerged tenth and our idle plutocrats. All questions touching the relations to our brother men are being thoughtfully considered; we foresee catastrophes now threatening us in church and state, which were never dreamed of by the enthusiastic builders of our nation, and we feel that we do not hold the key to the situation. Yet the whole world is looking towards America for radical amelioration in every condition, and we are so placed that we are enabled to take the right stand at the right time.

All ethical innovations in international law will probably also originate in America, for our isolation gives us immunity from fear and freedom of speech, such as no other nation enjoys. The idea of a Peace Congress at once took firm and natural root in our congenial soil and its fruit will undoubtedly revolutionize the world's opinions on war, as much as our Emersons, Channings and Lowells have influenced religious and literary belief.

The most powerful factor in every revolutionary movement is the common people, but we could have little or no knowledge of their attitude were it not for the press, which is their voice and the mirror of their minds. We cannot,

therefore, too greatly emphasize the imimportance of a free, unbiased and untrammelled press. As highly as the great reformer Lessing thought of truth, and as ardently as he fought its battles, he yet said that it was "better that error should be taught than that free speech should be stifled." So, in spite of all the errors which can be charged against the press, we may gather the firm conviction that the American people are deeply moved over the hard conditions of the day, and are striving to solve the intricate problems before them.

The narrowness of the Provincial period in religion and politics has so entirely passed away that the solution is sought, not in drastic revolutionary uprisings, such as have characterized the social fermentations of the Old World, but in a peaceful, noiseless change of heart and mind, and in seeking to make practical the philosophy of Altruism.

To America is given a glorious mission, and, if it be granted to us to take a glimpse into the twentieth century, we may perhaps recognize that this change has been wrought through the wise charity, the far-sighted wisdom, and the noble patriotism of the men who have of late lived, thought and toiled in our midst. CARINA B. C. EAGLESFIELD.

by which the voters may be induced to give a careful attention to the problems which they are called upon to solve, and may be enabled to acquire the knowledge necessary to a correct solution of them.

In communities whose social and economic condition remains long unchanged customs grow up and acquire the force of law; and legislation, except to redress some special grievance, is unnecessary; but, in progressive nations, social and economic conditions change so rapidly that the laws can scarcely keep pace with them, and the most fundamental questions claim attention. If, therefore, a progressive country is to be well governed, the fountains of law, whether popular, legislative or judicial, must be not only pure, but well-informed, prudent, and perpetually active. The constitution of this country

makes a great demand upon her citizens, and one to which an average man is scarcely equal; and it behoves us utilize the experience, not only of our own, but also of other lands, in order to ascertain how those citizens may be made more equal to the task; and how the more weighty parts of the burthen may, as far as is compatible with democratic institutions, be laid upon the most capable shoulders. It is no reflection on the framers of the Federal Constitution to say that it is not perfectly adapted to our time. Since it was framed, new antisocial forces have pushed their way through flaws whose weakness was not perceived at its framing, because then the dangers did not exist against which it is now necessary to guard.

It is with the hope of deriving some lessons from the Constitution of Switzerland, a federal republic in some respects resembling ours, but in others widely dif ferent,- that this article has been written. Yet the writer has not been able to persuade himself that Swiss methods can be adopted in this country just as they stand. They rather appear to him to suggest principles which we may

be able to work out in a manner better suited to the genius and training of our people. It is not his object to give a formal or detailed account of either the Swiss or the American Constitutions. That has been done in many books and articles which are generally accessible.* But now we are con

*The clearest and best book which I have seen on the Constitution of Switzerland is, in my judgment, "State and Federal Government in Switzerland," by John M. Vincent; Baltimore: John Hopkins press, 1891. The works by Boyd Winchester, entitled "The Swiss Republic," and by Sir F. O. Adams and C. D. Ĉunningham, entitled "The Swiss Confederation," follow similar lines. The latter gives a fuller account of Swiss political parties in ch. VII., and of religious denominations in ch. XII., than either of the others. "Federal Government in Switzerland," by Prof. B. Moses, is a formal comparison of the clauses of different republican constitutions, and gives but little prominence to that of Switzerland. "The Model Republic," y F. G. Baker, is almost entirely historical. As regards the United States, "This Country of Ours," by ex-President Harrison, is admirably adapted for young people. The leading work is generally conceded to be "The American Commonwealth," by James Bryce, M. P., 3d ed. 1895. "The Separation of Government Powers, in History, Theory, and Practice," is elaborately discussed by Wm. Bonly, in the Columbia College (N. Y.) series, 1896.

cerned rather to contrast some of the salient points in the former with our own system, and to consider what light they cast on the possible improvement of the latter.

The reason for selecting Switzerland as the subject of comparison is, that democratic institutions are generally admitted to have been more successful there than elsewhere. But this result is not really due to the provisions in the Constitutions so much as to the training through which the Swiss nation has passed. The resources supplied by nature in that country are so scanty that the acquisition of great wealth is impossible, and that of subsistence difficult and laborious; yet the love of home, which is so strong in mountaineers, makes its inhabitants unwilling to leave it;the contrast of wealth and poverty is not glaring, and such antagonism as exists among the citizens is not that of classes so much as that of cantons.† These cantons, unlike the American states, are separated by well-marked natural boundaries, and each is inhabited by a population homogeneous in language, religion, and blood; although three nationalities, five languages, and two chief religions are to be found within the federation. Each canton has a history of its own. Some were formerly under the control of others, and with difficulty gained their freedom. The size of some is still so small, and their population so sparse, that all the adult males take a direct part in legislation, and this was formerly the case in others; and, while this fact places legislation more completely under the control of the people, it also brings home to them more effectively its responsibility.

Here, on the contrary, the population of each state is heterogeneous, and a state patriotism is scarcely possible;

- the differences between one state and another are inconsiderable, nor has their history rendered them in any degree antagonistic (except in aggregates); the size of each is so great, and its population so large, as to admit of class antagonisms within state boundaries; while the magnitude of the fortunes which, owing to the prodigality of nature, have been acquired by some, and have

† A Swiss State is denominated a Canton. Each is about as large as one of our counties.

seemed to be within the grasp of all, have trained our people in an extreme form of individualism, which it is now hard to counteract. We have, consequently, to contend with great evils; a determination on the part of those who possess power to use it for their own advantage, regardless of the common interest; a disposition on the part of voters and even legislators* to sell their votes to the highest bidder (an evil claimed to have infected even the judicial bench); the bossiness of theorists, ever eager to impose their own views on others under the forms of law, combined with a great readiness on the part of legislators to save themselves from bother by enacting such laws, with the result that they generally remain unenforced; and a too great laxity in the administration of law, counterbalanced by mob-law. This training has not been an unmixed evil. It has made industry more honorable than the wealthy idleness which Professor Brentano † deems necessary to the cultivation of "knightly qualities;" but it has arrayed farmer against manufacturer, debtor against creditor, employee against employer, like hostile armies; and it has played havoc with laws and institutions, and led many to doubt the permanance of democracy, in the very nature of which these evils seem to them to inhere. But there are signs of a happy reaction. Wealth is no longer so much respected as formerly; societies, and even political parties, have been formed for the purpose of cultivating public spirit; Civics are taught in the schools; and Economics and Politics hold a prominent place in the universities. We have therefore much to hope; but we cannot, without persistent effort, consider the future of the republic assured.

One of the radical evils in this country is generally held to be untrustworthiness on the part of legislators. Mr. J. W. Sullivan, in his little book on the Referendum, p. 82, gives a shocking account of this matter; and he echoes a very common sentiment. He proposes, as a remedy, the adoption of the Swiss institutions known as the Initiative and Referendum. An argument in favor of these may be found in his book, p. 92, and an argument against them in the "Interna

* J. W. Sullivan, "Referendum," page 82. "Relation of Labor to Law," by Lujo Brentano, translation, page 278.

tional Journal of Ethics," vi., 51. An account of bills introduced in Australasia, for submitting to a popular vote any measure upon which the two houses of the legislature may have disagreed, is given in the "Contemporary Review" for last August, 1xxii., p. 242.

The Swiss institutions can be more clearly understood if the Referendum be considered first. This is simply a right of veto by the voters upon any statute passed by the legislature. In some can

tons no measure can become law until it has been voted upon by the citizens, while in the rest except Freiburg (where neither referendum nor initiative exists), a specified number of the citizens may by signing their names before the proper official and satisfying him of their right to vote, require that a popular vote be taken. Federal legislation follows the latter rule, and gives the same privilege to any eight of the can

tons.

The most obvious criticism on this system is that it cannot in any way advance legislation. It may undo what the legislature has recently done, but it cannot alter bad laws already in force. Besides this, it is apt to check improvements in the law. It is very difficult to frame a measure so that it shall contain nothing to which any considerable body of the citizens can object. Suppose that, in a constituency of 1,000, one hundred object to one clause in the proposed law but approve of all the rest, while another hundred object to another clause but approve of all the rest, and so on; so that, on the whole, 400 citizens approve every part of the measure, and every one of the remaining 600 approves all except one clause, no large body of them objecting to the same clause; the result is that the measure is lost. It is always possible, too, for a legislature, when forced by public opinion to pass a measure but unwilling to do so, to comply in seeming with the popular will, and yet insure the rejection of the measure by inserting in it one clause objectionable to a majority of the citizens. Add to this the impossibility of the average citizen understanding a technical statute, such as a bankruptcy law, and we shall see that the Referendum is apt to do more harm than

* Vincent, “State and Federal Government,' page 46 as to Federal, and page 115 as to State

laws.