For myself I must confess that I could not without some uneasiness contemplate the unguided production of great numbers of popular essays by young men, undirected, on the most serious subjects. It seemed to me somewhat of a haphazard system. It had the unpleasant consequence of making many responsible for opinions in which they took no share. They were left no alternative, except to protest openly against points which they did not approve of; but they were precluded from taking this course by friendship, regard to great principles held in common, and unwillingness to take part in what they believed to be grounded on principles which they could not approve. They had, therefore, to bear, as they best might, a very unpleasant responsibility. For myself, I was happy to resume studies too long interrupted, and became engaged in researches preparatory to writing my "Treatise on the Church of Christ," which occupied four years, and in which I endeavoured to place Church principles on a solid basis of argument.

It is not my purpose to enter on the history of the "Tractarian,"i.e., Newman's-movement. In the main principles of that movement, rightly understood, I cordially concurred, but there were minor points on which I reserved my judgment. It seemed to me that the unbounded freedom of speculation and argument which formed the basis of the system, did not very well harmonize with the dogmatic and objective basis upon which it rested; and that, as it was identical in essence with the spirit of the philosophic systems of the nineteenth century, so it might have the result of converting Christianity itself into another form of philosophy. It seemed to me, I confess, that the rational character of Anglican theology, the solid reasoning, the acute logic, of elder writers, too often gave way to new methods. derived from philosophic speculation, the bold assumption, the brilliant theory, the far-fetched analogy, the needless concession which springs from over-confidence in the power of intellect, the rejection of sound logic and accurate reasoning as too tame and trite to meet the demands of an ambitious dialectic, which has been described as an "intellectual legerdemain."

Those inconveniences presented themselves as the movement progressed. At times I was apprehensive of the result; nor, indeed, were those apprehensions without ground. The unfortunate secession of Newman, and with him of others, whom we could ill spare, verified unhappily the painful anticipations which had been formed. But events which seemed destined to work irretrievable injury to the Church, happily disappointed our expectations. The great principles held in common by churchmen were widely proclaimed and widely received. If they were accompanied by teaching which led to division, it was hoped that such teaching would eventually pass away. Nor was this hope disappointed. The inherent vigour of the

Church's faith threw off by degrees these less healthy adjuncts. Truth found its level in the midst of strong discussion. The apprehensions of many were not realized. Such aberrations have providentially proved to be but trials, however sore these trials may have been. Such trials are dreaded. They arrive; they pass away; and they leave us stronger than before. We recognize in them the protection and the blessing of a Higher Power. They only confirm us in our convictions, and prepare us for whatever trials may yet be in reserve. The work of Newman was the revival of the Church of England; and a nobler work no man could accomplish.

If we look at his career, there is one, and only one, great work for religion that he has accomplished-the awakening of the English Church. He applied to it a most powerful stimulus. His modes and methods were startling and perilous. But he was eminently successful. He brought out the mind of the Church of England. He involved the Church in a sea of discussion, and Truth was the result. The consequence gradually ensued. The Church awoke to a sense of its corporate life; it began to act as a Church. Convocation revived. Synods were restored; and general conventions and conferences of the Church's representatives once more reappeared, to bear testimony to the Church's faith and aspirations. And thus the office of individual leaders of religious party came to an end as a semi-authoritative institution. A living Church became its own best interpreter.

And what was unhappily to be the end of him who had in his time done so much towards reviving the Church of his baptism? It was, alas to be in another communion. As it were to warn men not to place their trust in human agencies, but to look above them to the revealed will and the protecting hand of God, this great leader of a religious party, while enabled to persuade himself of his own absolute consistency from beginning to end, rejected his earlier principles and purposes, and transferred to the Church of Rome those intellectual energies which had been so long applied to the regeneration of the Church of England. His utmost perseverance was employed for nearly forty years in the effort to undo the work which he had accomplished, the revival of the Church of his baptism-to pervert its system into support of that which was contrary to it--to sustain the cause, extend the influence, and augment the number of those who aimed at its spiritual destruction-such was the lamentable end of one who had laboured for the Church, imprudently indeed, but zealously, and whose faith gave way before a too intense feeling that he had been treated with ingratitude, and a natural incapacity for recognizing the possibility of mistake or want of judgment on his own part.

His high and valuable services were thus lost to the Church, and

transferred to a hostile communion; and boundless was the exultation of Rome upon receiving so distinguished a proselyte. It was thought that the last hour of the Church of England had come.

But these bright anticipations were not realized. The faith of churchmen was made of more stubborn materials; it bore the strain, and held fast. Save a handful of personal friends and devotees, no one followed the example. Newman was unable to undo his own work it held fast even against himself. Though for forty years he lavished all the wealth of his eloquence, fancy, speculation, and dialectic powers upon the attempt, the result has been insignificant. The Church of Rome has dwindled from a third to a seventh of the population; and the Church of England has flourished to an unprecedented degree, and is daily progressing.

The only great work that Newman accomplished was the revival of the Church of England. His work in the Church of Rome has been arduous, but its fruits have been but inconsiderable. It has been brilliant, striking, celebrated; but it has not produced any considerable result. For the last forty years it has made no impression upon the clergy or people of England. Converts are curiosities, distinguished more by rarity than value. The Church increases by hundreds of thousands, while a few hundreds of Papal proselytes are won with difficulty, and by the use of contrivances of all sorts. It is in vain that Newman has endeavoured to subvert his own work. There has been a Higher Power controlling the event. "The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong." It was ordained that "the gold and silver and precious stones" of Newman's teaching should survive, and the "wood, hay, and stubble" should be rejected; that what he and his disciples had derived from the masters of English theology should endure, and that what they had gathered from private speculation, Nonjuring or Roman sources, should be gradually forgotten. What was good has accordingly been preserved, and what was evil has been rejected.

Strange it is, that the great work to which this most highly gifted man was predestined (if his own belief in such a personal predestination was correct), was the accomplishment of a work which, after accomplishing, he devoted himself to overthrow. How sad to see such a reversal of a work which, had it been consistently carried out, would have merited and received a nation's gratitude. How sad that an incapacity for submission to a temporary censure should have closed such a career, and given another Tertullian and another Lamennais to the world.

WILLIAM PALMER.

ON RADIATION.*

S

(CIENTIFIC discoveries are not distributed uniformly in time. They appear rather in periodic groups. Thus, in the two first years of this century, among other gifts presented by men of science to the world, we have the Voltaic pile; the principle of Interference, which is the basis of the undulatory theory of light; and the discovery by William Herschel of the dark rays of the sun.

Directly or indirectly, this latter discovery heralded a period of active research on the subject of radiation. Leslie's celebrated work. "On the Nature of Heat," was published in 1804, but he informs us, in the preface, that the leading facts which gave rise to the publication presented themselves in the spring of 1801. An interesting but not uncommon psychological experience is glanced at in this preface. The inconvenience of what we call ecstasy, or exaltation, is that it is usually attended by undesirable compensations. Its action resembles that of a tidal river, sometimes advancing and filling the shores of life, but afterwards retreating and leaving unlovely banks behind. Leslie, when he began his work, describes himself as "transported at the prospect of a new world emerging to view." But further on the note changes, and before the preface ends he warns the reader that he may expect variety of tone, and perhaps defect of unity in his disquisition. The execution of the work, he says, proceeded with extreme tardiness; and as the charm of novelty wore off, he began to look upon his production with a coolness not usual in authors.

The ebb of the tide, however, was but transient; and to Leslie's ardour, industry, and experimental skill, we are indebted for a large body of knowledge in regard to the phenomena of radiation. In the

* A "Friday Evening Discourse," recently delivered in the Royal Institution.

prosecution of his researches he had to rely upon himself. He devised his own apparatus, and applied it in his own way. To produce radiating surfaces, he employed metallic cubes, which to the present hour are known as Leslie's cubes. The different faces of these cubes he coated with different substances, and filling the cubes with boiling water, he determined the emissive powers of the substances thus heated. These he found to differ greatly from each other. Thus, the radiation from a coating of lampblack being called 100, that from the uncoated metallic surface of his cube was only 12. He pointed out the reciprocity existing between radiation and absorption, proving that those substances which emit heat copiously absorb it greedily. His thermoscopic instrument was the well-known differential-thermometer invented by himself. In experiment Leslie His notions

was very strong, but in theory he was not so strong. as to the nature of the agent whose phenomena he investigated with so much ability are confused and incorrect. Indeed, he could hardly have formed any clear notion of the physical meaning of radiation before the undulatory theory of light, which was then on its trial, had been established.

As

A figure still more remarkable than Leslie occupied the scientific stage at the same time—namely, the vigorous, penetrating, and practical Benjamin Thompson, better known as Count Rumford, the originator of the Royal Institution. Rumford traversed a great portion of the ground occupied by Leslie, and obtained many of his results. regards priority of publication, he was obviously discontented with the course which things had taken, and he endeavoured to place both himself and Leslie in what he supposed to be their right relation to the subject of radiant heat. The two investigators were unknown to each other personally, and their differences hardly rose to scientific strife. There can hardly, I think, be a doubt that each of them worked independently of the other, and that where their labours overlap, the honour of discovery belongs equally to both.

The results of Leslie and Rumford were obtained in the laboratory; but the walls of a laboratory do not constitute the boundary of its results. Nature's hand specimens are always fair samples, and if the experiments of the laboratory be only true, they will be ratified throughout the universe. The results of Leslie and Rumford were in due time carried from the cabinet of the experimenter to the open sky, by Dr. Wells, a practising London physician. And here let it be gratefully acknowledged that vast services to physics have been rendered by physicians. The penetration of Wells is signalized among other things by the fact recorded by the late Mr. Darwin, that forty-five years before the publication of the "Origin of Species," the London doctor had distinctly recognized the principle of Natural Selection, and that he was the first who recognized it. But Wells is