Theology, Philosophy, and Philology. 295 language. It is unscientific to speak of this island as England during the Celtic period, and to talk of England receiving a tinge of Roman science and learning from its Roman conquerors. The remark that the Latin 'language had not taken such deep root among the Celtic inhabitants as 'to have an abiding influence upon the later formation of the English 'language' (p. 2), and the statement that the speech of the (Teutonic) conquerors soon penetrated deeply into the life of the people' (p. 3), savour unpleasantly of the idea that English was somehow a development or modification of the Celtic speech of the Britons. Not having the fear of Mr. Freeman before his eyes, Mätzner ordinarily applies the term English only to the speech which was in use after the Anglo-Saxon period; and he still cleaves to the designation Half-Saxon' for what Koch calls 'late Anglo-Saxon' and Morris English of the Second "Period.' No doubt the distinguished author above-mentioned will find some opportunity of giving Mätzner 'a piece of his mind' on the point, with that incisive energy for which his criticisms are usually conspicuous. Mätzner's account of the numerals omits several interesting facts which throw light upon their origin and use. For instance, he does not seem to be aware that in Anglo-Saxon the multiples of ten (twenty, thirty, &c.) are substantives-ty (A. S.-tig) being derived from the Gothic noun tigus, a collection of ten.' This was so clearly recognised, that we find them with the inflections of substantives in the singular, thus Prittiges manna mægencraft' ('a force of thirty men') is literally a force of a 'thirty of men.' He does not let us know that eleven and twelve are equivalent to 'one + ten' and 'two + ten,' being of the same formation as the Gothic ainlif and twalif, in which the root lif admits of being identified with that of deka and decem, and illustrates two common and important etymological interchanges, namely that between 7 and d (as in oleo and odor in Latin, and grill and grid-iron in English, lingua and tongue, &c.), and that between a guttural and ƒ or v, which may be illustrated by comparing laugh with the German lachen. Our author's account of the pronouns leaves much to be desired. In a scientific grammar the pronoun of the Third Person should be classed with the other demonstratives, not with the two strictly personal pronouns. As regards the very curious and important word self, after a careful study of Mätzner's remarks (in the original German, the translation being quite unintelligible), we must confess our inability to make out precisely what view he adopts respecting the puzzling anomalies that the word presents. His account of the relative pronouns is very meagre and unsatisfactory. The way in which they were developed out of the demonstrative and interrogative pronouns in Anglo-Saxon is quite passed by. The subject is too large for discussion here, but will be found admirably dealt with by Koch. One remark respecting these pronouns for a long time fairly baffled us. The author says: 'We discriminate adjective and sub'stantive pronouns of this class. . . . The adjective ones, pointing back 'to a substantive notion, are the interrogative which, and the demonstra'tive that; to these the originally substantive interrogative who has asso'ciated itself. Who and what are substantive ones, for which, in their refer ence to a presupposed person or thing, a demonstrative with a relative 'pronoun might be substituted.' It is quite impossible to make sense of this, if the words adjective and substantive are taken in their usual sense, for that (as a relative) is never attached adjectively to a noun, as which is, when we say 'on which account;' and the same holds good of who. A blunder of the translator's directed our attention to what seemed a clue to the author's meaning, which we take to be, that a substantive relative pronoun is one which has no antecedent expressed, while any relative is to be regarded as an adjective, if its antecedent is expressed. But this, we submit, is a totally new, arbitrary and unnecessary application of the well understood words substantive and adjective, besides involving a view of the function of a relative which we altogether dispute. With regard to the verbs we have to notice a similar want of philological thoroughness. A German grammarian of course could not avoid classifying verbs as those of the strong conjugation and those of the weak conjugation. On what principle Mätzner should have dealt with the latter first we cannot understand. The strong conjugation is the older, and the weak conjugation is not merely later in point of time, but depends upon a verb of the former class for its characteristic feature. We look in vain, however, for any statement of the very interesting fact that the change of vowel which marks the strong conjugation originated in a doubling of the verbal root, a mode of formation found in various Aryan languages. In course of time the doubled root was weakened by the omission of the final consonant from the end of the first member of it, a process often accompanied by a weakening of the radical vowel. Hence came the Greek reduplication in the perfect, and such forms as tutudi, pependi, cecidi in Latin. Next the initial consonant of the second member of the doubled root was dropped, and so the vowel sounds of the two roots (of which the first had often already got weakened) came into juxtaposition, and, becoming blended together, occasioned that modification of the root vowel which marks the strong conjugation. In this way, for example, in Latin from facio were formed successively fac-fac-i, fa-fac-i, or fe-fic-i, fe-ic-i, and lastly feci. In English we have relics of reduplication in did and hight. The weak conjugation was indebted for its preterite tense to the aid of the auxiliary verb do. In Gothic traces of the complete past auxiliary did are still extant in the preterite tenses of the weak conjugation. In Anglo-Saxon this auxiliary had become weakened to de or te. Our limits forbid us even to glance at a large number of interesting points which deserve discussion. With all its shortcomings, Mätzner's English Grammar is a work of immense value, especially as a huge storehouse of examples. As these of course were already given in English, even the incompetence of the present translator could not rob of all value the very unsatisfactory version which he has produced. *The rest of the Theological Department necessarily stands over to our next Number. THE BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW. OCTOBER 1, 1875. ART. I.- Religious Art.' Christian Art and Symbolism. By the Rev. R. ST. JOHN ON Sunday, the 5th of October, 1873, the Chapel of King's College, London, was reopened, after having been decorated. "The Rev. Professor Plumptre occupied the pulpit, and dealt 'generally with the subject of the utilization of art in Divine 'worship.' After a word of congratulation on the altered aspect of the building, the preacher continued: The wider teaching of history warns us indeed that a time of much devotion to the aesthetic side of culture or religion is not always a time of high purpose, or of firm resolve. The strange irony of history has left the word 'renaissance' to be almost a byword and a proverb of degeneracy and decay. For old faith became weak and feeble; and, so far as that revival of culture extended, there was no new hope and energy to take its place. Whatever there was of strength and vigour moulding the thoughts of men and the destinies of nations was found in the rougher nations of the north, associated sometimes with an indifference, sometimes with even a repugnance, to art as ministering to religion, and condemning its excessive culture (and almost any degree of culture has at times been thought excessive), as fatal to the manliness and simplicity of the nation's life, emasculating while it polished it. We must acknowledge that the Puritan or the Scotch ideal of human life, though it may be wanting in loveliness and light, is nobler than the Italian and the French. Art has a beauty and a glory of her own; but steadfastness of purpose, patient endurance, truth in the inward parts, these constitute the true strength of a nation. I hold, and always have taught, that art has her ministry to fulfil in the religious life of man.' The discourse seems fairly to express the feelings and opinions of intelligent and liberal-minded men among the clergy; and it may perhaps be taken as a measure of their knowledge of the scope and history of art. It is a hopeful demonstration; and, though the knowledge is defective, the opinions. erroneous, and the feeling not quite true, the will is evidently good. There is strong desire for improvement; and, in perfect sympathy with this desire, we now propose to take the reverend Professor and our readers into serious conference, and thus endeavour to expound to them the way of art more perfectly. We venture first to object to the Professor's reading of the history of art, and to the lesson he has learnt. It is evident for instance that a time of much devotion to æsthetic culture' must be a time of high purpose and of firm resolve.' There is no logical difficulty here. To aim at æsthetic culture is 'a high purpose,' and 'much devotion' includes a firm resolve.' If the Professor means that when art is cultivated public spirit fails and patriotism declines, we appeal to the whole range of history against his doctrine. The recorded works of Moses and of Solomon, of Joash and of Nehemiah, the histories of the Athenian commonwealth and people fighting for existence, of Italian cities struggling to maintain their municipal rights, of France striving for national union, of England working out its liberties under the long line of Norman, Angevin, and Plantagenet kings, all of whom were simultaneously engaged on works of the highest national art, testify against him. The Professor is, however, in idea near the truth, but his form of words has very much misled him. Had he said that a time of high purpose and of firm resolve is not always a time of much devotion to the aesthetic side of culture or religion, he would have been one step nearer the truth, but still not wholly correct. For religion has no æsthetic side, any more than it has a clean side, or a grammatical side, or a pecuniary side; and yet the observance of cleanliness, of syntactical accuracy, and of monetary laws, is of great value in association with religious sentiment and practical devotion. The Scotch ideal of human life was not originally wanting in the loveliness that art supplies. The churches at Dunfermline, Glasgow, Jedburgh, and Melrose, In Doctrine, Heretical. 299 show that in Scotland, as elsewhere, art was a national expression of delight in work, and was the exhibition of a character of mind essentially the same as that which raised the glorious medieval monuments of Italy and France. The neglect of æsthetic culture by the Scottish Puritans was no evidence of superior moral rectitude or of elevated thought. If more than a religious expediency, local and temporary, it merely showed that, like many since their time and down to the Professor's day, they had not learnt to use analysis, and to see the difference between association and identity. The Puritans esteemed the Church of Rome erroneous and corrupt in faith and worship; and observing that imaginative art, the noblest then in vogue, was used abundantly about religious buildings, they, like the savages who thought a European's clothes were born upon him, carelessly conceived that art was the aesthetic side or covering of superstition, cognate and identical, and they proscribed it. Thus, while the Government of France was striving with too much success to root out simple faith,' and to expel the Huguenots, the Puritans and Scotch were by an equal error led to extirpate the arts; and to this day the French and British nations suffer from these follies of their ancestors. Yet, the Professor being witness for ourselves, we still maintain the Puritan delusion about art and its 'religious side.' Of late society of all ranks and creeds and classes has been so grievously deluded by this heresy about Religious Art,' that the truth about the relative positions, attributes, and powers of art and godliness should, for once, be systematically ascertained. This is our present object; and after careful demonstration of sound doctrine on æsthetics in relation to religion, we shall show by well-known specimens of modern work how amply these exceptions prove our rule. Art, first of all, is work. Labour is its foundation, and the human hand its necessary instrument. Religion is an aspiration of the soul. The hands know nothing of it; they perform their work in strict obedience to the will, whatever be its motive, whether sacred, non-religious, or profane; and so their art is totally indifferent. In it they know not God; their work is not religious. Thus a master-workman planning a fine church may be the subject of religious feeling, |
