pre-eminently the art of the nineteenth century, because it is in a supreme manner responsive to the emotional wants, the mixed aspirations, and the passive self-consciousness of the age" (Music and Morals, p. 1). It is peculiarly the disinterested art, and that fact qualifies it for its high religious mission, making it so essential to the adequate expression of reverential awe, heartfelt thanksgiving, and genuine praise.

At the same time it has to be admitted that music, just because it is capable of traversing the entire keyboard of our desires, may be employed to arouse base and sensual ambitions as well as those that elevate and inspire. It is hardly too much to say with another that “it can be impressed with equal felicity in the service of church or tavern." Nevertheless, its great masters have always been those who have used it as a powerful, uplifting influence, who have evoked its aid to elevate our thoughts and feelings to the Infinite. Otherwise, the Bachs, the Handels, the Haydens, the Beethovens, the Chopins, and the Brahmses of history would not be ranked with the Michel Angelos, the Raphaels, the Dantes, the Miltons, and the Tennysons as among the great ennobling forces of the world.

The beginnings of poetry in all probability first showed themselves, as with music, in connection with the rhythmic motions of the religious dance. It is almost inevitable that words uttered in accompaniment to the dance should partake of its rhythmic character. So far as all historic records go, the oldest forms of literature of any considerable extent in all languages were odes to the gods. At these primitive religious festivals all the principal forms of poetry were gradually developed. The epic poem recounted the doings of the gods and the exploits of heroic men, their chief

earthly representatives. The lyric poem gave voice to the thoughts and feelings that these mighty acts inspired. The drama set forth in vivid and concrete form for the edification of the beholders some particular series of events in which the gods played the principal rôles, and thus displayed their superior wisdom and power.

It is no exaggeration to say that out of these humble beginnings have arisen all of the great poetic compositions of the world. The Rig-Veda consists chiefly of hymns to the gods, and is the foundation upon which the Mahabharata, the great epic of the Hindus, is based. The Iliad of Homer had a similar origin. It gathers up all the great features of the polytheistic faith of the ancient Greeks, and was treated by them with all the reverence of Holy Writ. Vergil's Æneid performed a like mission for the ancient Romans. Milton's Paradise Lost and Dante's Divine Comedy grew up under similar conditions, and still remain the great standard epics of modern times. No more recent poet has felt equal to the task of surpassing them, and, besides, the novel has in our day usurped their place in the popular demand.

When we turn to lyric poetry, we find nothing in any language that can compare with the psalms and hymns of the Christian church for awakening in man profound emotions and arousing lofty thoughts. And this has been true of the hymns of every religion in every age of the world, and in every stage of civilization. The historic fact is that both tragedy and comedy originated in connection with the worship of the god Dionysus, the frivolity of the latter being the natural reaction from the seriousness of the former. The very term, tragedy, comes from the Greek word.

for goat, and arose either from the fact that a goat was sacrificed at the festivals of this god, or because the actors who danced around the altar chanting songs in his honor partially clad themselves in the skins of this animal. The great tragic poets of the ancient world, as Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, took such high subjects as Prometheus Bound, the punishment of Edipus, and the sacrifice of Iphigenia for their themes. For nothing less than the doings of a god, or some other being elevated above the level of humanity, could stir their powers to their best effort, or satisfy the demands of those who were to listen to and criticise their products.

The Athenian tragedy was not a mere amusement, but a serious religious function. Aristotle says in his Poetics that its mission was to purify the passions of pity and fear, as he thought this was the natural reaction from seeing them carried to excessive indulgence on the stage. It not only originated in a popular religious festival, but it became the vehicle of the deepest religious thoughts and ideals of the people. When it ceased to fulfil this function, it lost its vitality, and disappeared as an important factor in their lives.

No drama in our own day attains a high degree of excellence that does not appeal to that in man which is above himself, and in some effective way arouse his ambition to act in a manner worthy of a being possessed of godlike powers. Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, Racine, and others who attained great eminence in this art in their day, held undisputed sway over the minds of men, because they depicted in a masterful manner the eternal value of truth and righteousness, the corner-stones of religion, to the welfare and happi

ness of man. And this remains to-day the secret of their continued supremacy in this field.

Thus we see that the actual history of the fine arts teaches us the common lesson that they all spring out of man's powers to search for ideal perfection, and that their mission is to elevate him to the divine. So long as the human soul yearns after the perfect and the infinite, so long it will seek to embody its ideals in the forms of art. The seriously-minded Puritan scowled upon the beautiful as a lovely devil, because he thought it the enemy of religion. He did not see that it is in reality its handmaid and friend. In point of fact, there is no high art without religion, and no high development of religion without art. For art is the high priest of nature, and nature is the manifestation of the divine.

Art is the concrete expression of some of God's thoughts, as they are suggested to us in the things that are made. It is, therefore, indispensable to man in his effort to understand the meaning of the universe. Without it he cannot see the harmony there is in it, or realize in any effective way its rational purpose. If we were fully attuned to the beauty that lies all about us, revelation would be as natural as breathing. "The whole thought of art," says Phillips Brooks, must be enlarged and mellowed, till it develops a relation to the spiritual and moral natures, as well as the senses of mankind."

We should never speak of art for art's sake, but of art for man's sake, to acquaint him with the actual meaning of things, and bring him into conscious and joyful accord with his Maker.

CHAPTER V.

RELIGION THE KEY TO HISTORY.

GUIZOT on one of the first pages of his History of Civilization makes the following remarkable assertion : 'At all times, in all countries, religion has assumed the glory of having civilized the people." To what extent and in what sense this is a true statement it is the purpose of this chapter to point out.

In the first place we need to note that the time has gone by when we can speak of the history of religion as something distinct from general history. This view has always had many advocates. It was held by Eusebius, the father of church history. Augustine taught it in his great work, The City of God, and the position was universally maintained by the churches of ancient and medieval times.

The Catholic churches of our own day still regard it as the correct view. God, they maintain, has endowed his people with an infallible doctrine, has placed over them infallible leaders, and has established a course of action that is to go on unchanged to the end of time. They admit, to be sure, that the church is not wholly out of relation to the rest of history, but they insist that its affairs are affected by secular history only in the most casual and superficial way, agitating at times perhaps its outermost borders, but never extending to its

centre or core.

Nor did the Protestants of the sixteenth century in