of Sette Camma nearly to the Congo. Beyond this, and more surprising still, she professes to have acquired by treaty the left bank of the Congo at Stanley Pool, thus completely cutting in two the territory of the Association.

So far as appears these claims, particularly the last, are without any substantial foundation. The suggestion is freely made that the object in view in the sudden claim to rights on the southern shore of Stanley Pool is to compel the Association to compromise by yielding territory along the coast and well down to the river, with the expectation that what remains will, in due time, come into her possession, leaving her mistress of the northern side of the river from the sea to a point in the interior above the equator. When it is further recalled that the agreement respecting freedom of trade entered into at the present Conference may be reconsidered after the lapse of twenty years, and that France, in certain contingencies, is a sort of residuary legatee of the Association, which is still in the first stages of an experiment, it will not seem surprising that the success of the Conference is still far from being assured. Yet the latest advices give grounds for hope. Germany, it is claimed, is exerting an influence to moderate the demands of France, and secure to the Association a definite and satisfactory territory. It is of immense importance that the domain of the Association should be neutralized, a point which it is intimated France will yield. There should also be no uncertainty as to the extent of the rights of inheritance possessed by France in case of the failure of the Association, nor as to the meaning of the twenty years' stipulation. No nation should be able to bring under its own exclusive control the results of enterprises entered into by the citizens of other states on the basis of the principles enunciated in the Declaration respecting freedom of trade.

"ST. JEROME'S PROLOGUE TO GALATIANS."

AN editorial note in the January number of the "Bibliotheca Sacra" revives the question of Jerome's "Prologue to Galatians," trying to show that I was mistaken in calling it an "invention" of one of the editors.

"The prologue in question is by no means unfamiliar to men of learning, being, in fact, the source of our knowledge of some of the most interesting personal details of the great father's life."

In support of this, reference is made to Migne's edition of Jerome (1845, vii. 307 f.). If the writer had printed the title as it stands in Migne, the reader would have been spared the necessity of looking up the reference. It is, "S. Eusebii Hieronymi Stridonensis Presbyteri Commentariorum in Epistolam ad Galatas Libri Tres. Prologus." That is, this "Prologue to Galatians" turns out to be the Preface to Jerome's Commentary on Galatians. In Martianay's edition the title runs: "Incipit Præfatio S. Hieronymi in Commentarios Epistolæ ad Galatas." 1 The Andover Review, vol. ii. p. 615.

Whether Prologus, Præfatio, or Proemium shall be used, or whether neither shall be inserted, is a matter of editorial preference. In Migne's edition the Prefaces to the Second and Third Books of the Commentary have no title at all. Obviously it is not sufficient to show that in Migne's edition this Preface is called Prologus. Else it would be just as easy to prove by the same edition that there is no "Prologus Galeatus" at all, nor any Prefaces or Prologues to the Second and Third Books of the Commentary on Galatians, although it is this last Preface rather than the one named "Prologus" in Migne that the writer of the note in the “Bibliotheca Sacra" seems particularly to have in mind. It must be further shown that a careful scholar would quote the first preface as "Prologue to Galatians."

The existence of introductions to many of the books of the Bible in Jerome's translation or revision makes the distinction in citation between the Preface to a Book and the Preface to a Commentary peculiarly necessary, and, as a matter of fact, it is strictly observed by all accurate writers. Thus, running over the foot-notes of Zöckler's "Hieronymus" we find: Præfat in 1. Job t. ix., p. 1100; Præf. in libr. Tob.; Præf. in vers. libr. Isaii; and, on the other hand, Præf. Comm. in Matth.; Præfat. Comm. in Ep. ad Ephes.; Præfat. Comm. in Ep. ad Gal.; Præf. 1. iii. Comm. in Gal., etc. Or, turning to Freemantle's article, "Hieronymus," in Smith's "Dict. of Christian Biography:" Pref. to Gen., vol. ix.; Pref. to Ezek., vol. ix., col. 995; Pref. to Joshua, etc., over against Pref. to Comm. on Ezek, Comm. on Gal., Pref. to Comm. on Gal. b. iii., Pref. to b. ii. of Comm. on Ephes., etc.

The Prefaces to Jerome's "Commentary on Galatians" are, as the writer in the "Bibliotheca" truly says, not unfamiliar to the learned. The reviewer had by no means forgotten their existence; but, after some reflection, he deemed it unnecessary to put in a foot-note a formal caution against such a "discovery" as some of his friends have lately made.

The author of the note in question wittily turns Jerome's complaint : "Omnem sermonis elegantiam et Latini eloquii venustatem, stridor lectionis Hebraicæ sordidavit " (Præf. 1. iii. Comm. in Gal., p. 486), into a mild rebuke of the asperity of tone in my review.

If it was severe it was solely because the public has a right, and the reviewer a duty, to judge the work of a scholar by profession, on so important a subject, by the high standards of exact scholarship. It is right to demand that the author shall have studied the sources thoroughly and exhaustively; that he shall be familiar with the literature, new and old; and that when he follows in the footsteps of others he shall at least have verified every step. To judge books by their authors, by their commendable aim, by the soundness of their matter in general, is to make criticism not only meaningless but dishonest.

G. F. M.

PHILOSOPHICAL CRITICISM.

PRESIDENT PORTER'S ELEMENTS OF MORAL SCIENCE.1

WE have often been reminded, as we have read this book, of one of Martineau's brilliant paragraphs in which he compares the later with the earlier work of many celebrated metaphysicians to the disadvantage of the latter. We think it safe to say that Dr. Porter's reputation, both as a writer and thinker, will not suffer by comparing the Elements of Moral Science" with the "Human Intellect." In originality of conception, and in the thoroughness with which it is worked out, the former is unquestionably superior, while in clearness and force and attractiveness of statement the advance is equally decided. Scholars will find it interesting and instructive, and teachers, unless we are much mistaken, will pronounce it the best book yet written for the purposes of the class-room. The author's theory as to the origin and nature of moral relations is founded on an analysis of the sensibility and will. He maintains (1) that every exercise of the sensibility is pleasant or painful; (2) that it consists of two elements, this element of pleasure or pain and a desire to continue in the state of pleasure or to get rid of the state of pain; (3) that different states of it reveal on comparison an ultimate difference in kind; a difference in natural value; an unanalyzable higher and lower; (4) that there results therefrom the perception or immediate inference that the true end of existence is so to act as to possess the higher to as great an extent as possible, and to sacrifice the lower to them when they come in conflict; (5) that the will has power to choose between the various activities presented to it by reflection; (6) that the natural result of acting in harmony with our nature, of realizing in any particular act the end of our existence, is self-approval, while the failure so to act is followed by self-reproach; that the feeling of obligation is chronologically later than either of these, and is the complex experience felt before the act of choice, composed, in part, of the perception that only by choosing the higher of two pleasures offered to us can we win our own self-approbation, and a more or less active representation of that experience in imagination; in part, of the perception that unless we choose the higher we shall incur our self-reproach, accompanied by the representation of that in imagination also.

Waiving for a moment the first step in the analysis, it should be noted with reference to the second that the author is in several particulars in sharp antagonism with many philosophers. Dugald Stewart, for instance, divides the active principles into five classes: appetites, desires, affections, self-love, and the moral faculty, excluding by implication the element of desire from the other four. Many maintain, also, that the desire is not concerned with the emotion, but with the object of the emotion. Further, as desires are excluded from the appetites, affections, self-love, and the moral faculty, so the desire of happiness, under the name self-love, is by many writers erected into a special faculty or impulse instead of being, according to the author, an element in every exercise of the sensibility.

1 The Elements of Moral Science, Theoretical and Practical. By Noah Porter, D. D., LL. D., President of Yale College. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.

As to the first point the decision plainly turns on the first step in the analysis, the question whether every such experience is pleasurable or painful. Pleasure, unaccompanied by the desire to keep it, and pain, apart from the desire to get rid of it, is a contradiction in terms. As Mill says: "Desiring a thing and finding it pleasant are in strictness of language two modes of naming the same psychological fact." Of course the proper qualifications of this statement must be borne in mind. We do constantly experience pleasures, which, on the whole, we do not desire to keep, and pains, which, everything taken into consideration, we do not desire to get rid of. But the reason is because the pleasure we think will be more than counterbalanced by the consequent pains, and the pain by consequent pleasures. The epicure prefers to discontinue the pleasure of eating that he may avoid the pain of indigestion. So the sick man does not desire to get rid of disagreeable medicine because he thinks it will be followed by the pleasures of health and activity. But, indeed, in all such cases strictly speaking we do desire the pleasure and do not desire the pain. The epicure says, I would like to eat more, but I must take care of my health; that is, I desire the pleasure of eating, but I do not desire the pain of ill-health. The sick man says, I do not want to take this medicine, but I suppose it will cure me, that is, I do not desire this disagreeable experience, but I do desire the health that I hope will result from it. We say, therefore, that it is self-evident that if every exercise of the sensibility contains the element of pleasure or pain it will contain the element of desire. What, then, are the facts? Without undertaking to answer the question with the thoroughness that would satisfy the psychologist, we think that so far as ethics is concerned the author is plainly in the right. If there are any colorless experiences, any experi ences destitute of pleasure and pain both directly and in their consequences, ethics has nothing to do with them. They cannot serve as motives, and are, therefore, without influence upon man as a moral being. ing the question open, therefore, as a matter of speculative truth, though frankly expressing our doubt of the author's generalization, we hold that all those experiences of the sensibility in which ethics has any interest are pleasant or painful, and of all such, as we have seen, it is evident that desire is an element.

Leav

What shall we say is the object of the desire? Is it pleasure or pain, or the object of the pleasure or pain?

Certainly, in many instances, it seems strained to say that the pleasure is the object of the desire; for how can we desire that of which we are not conscious? and yet it appears indisputable that in many cases we are not conscious of referring to our own subjective good. The whole conscious energy of the drowning man seems to be taken up with the rope. He does not say to himself, apparently, If I get it I shall be safe. To get it seems the end of his desires, and the effort to get it excludes all other thoughts. And it seems still more unnatural in the case of the personal affections to say that the object of desire is our own personal good. Do we desire the well-being of our friends because it will make us happy? It seems disloyalty to say so, and yet suppose their well-being did not make us happy? They would be objects of indifference to us, which is just the position of those whom we care nothing about. And if the rope, which seems so to absorb the consciousness of the drowning man, turns out not to be a rope but a piece of grass, with no bearing whatever on his safety, it ceases to have any interest for him. The truth

seems to be, that this discussion, like many another in metaphysics, has grown in part out of a difference in the use of language, in part out of the fact that the disputants lay emphasis on different elements of consciousness. When the author maintains that the object of desire is pleasure, we understand him to hold that pleasure is that which conditions the desire, that whose existence makes the desire possible. We do not understand him to teach either (1) that this pleasure is always consciously in the mind, or (2) that when it is present everything else except the desire is excluded. He expressly denies both interpretations, admitting that in some cases of desire there is no conscious reference to our own pleasure, and maintaining that the emotions are passive, that they are the necessary result of the presence to the mind of their exciting causes. Now if one author uses the phrase "object of desire" to denote that which conditions the desire and another uses it to denote that presentative or representative experience, that object which, as present to the senses or the imagination, causes the emotion, a decided difference of opinion will appear to exist. Butler, for example, maintains that desiring something else than pleasure is the condition of pursuing pleasure at all, since pleasure results from the gratification of impulses not directed towards itself. But would he hold that "impulses or desires are directed to objects destitute of a capacity to give us pleasure, and that this very capacity is not the cause of the impulse. Or would Mill and the author deny that what in Dr. Porter's language is the object of the emotion may not be more prominently before consciousness than the pleasure which it has the capacity to produce? Sidgwick contends that throughout the whole scale of our impulses, from the "highest to the lowest," in the case of our appetites, intellectual pursuits, benevolent affections, as well as in the pursuit of virtue, "we can distinguish desires of which the object, what we are consciously moved to realize, is something other than our own pleasure." But would he maintain that we should have any desire to realize in the case of these objects were it not for their pleasure-giving capacity? Or would Mill and the author deny that we attempt to realize pleasure in no other way than by directing our energies towards the object which can produce it? Or would they hold that in the case of our activities this cause is always present to the mind as a conscious reason? It is the old case of the two-sided shield over again. One philosopher wishing to bring out the fact that the pleasuregiving capacity of an object is the cause of the desire calls pleasure the object; another wishing to emphasize what is most prominent in consciousness calls the object by means of which the pleasure is obtained the object of the desire. The truth is, that we desire objects as related to our sensibilities. The question is, which of these elements is subordinate? And this is answered by the reflection that any object whatever having the capacity to excite pleasure will be an object of desire. If the well-being of a dog or the preservation of a block of wood or stone can give us pleasure we desire it. The idolater suffers intense pain from any injury to his idol, and the child will not be consoled for an accident to her doll. These instances seem to prove clearly that the end, or object, or cause of desire is in the last analysis our own subjective good. The apparent contradiction of maintaining that our desires are influenced by what we are not conscious of is readily explained, as the author has pointed out, by the theory of latent modifications of consciousness. It is one of the few thoroughly-established truths of psychology, that our