is called ignoratio elenchi, and is a very valuable instrument: it consists in passing over the point to which your opponent wishes to bring you, and in proving something else. But if your opponent is a sharp man and drives you from this standpoint, there remains a second serviceable weapon; it is called petitio principii, and consists in assuming the point to be proved-generally (though this is not essential) in a slightly altered form. If your opponent has had a logical training, he will detect your device and wrest the weapon from your hands. You will then take refuge in the last and impregnable stronghold, which is called maxima refutatio, and which consists in denying that there is any point at issue.

But this was not the whole of his life at Berlin. Partly, no doubt, through the influence of his kind host, he was welcomed into some very pleasant society, and greatly enjoyed his experiences of German home life. His letters are full of the good music he heard, the interesting people he met, and the places he visited. A few extracts shall be given :

On Wednesday I sat an hour with the great jurist, Gneist, and smoked a cigar with him. He promised me tickets for the House of Parliament, of which he is a member; cut up our English notions of philosophy, in which I quite agreed with him; and finally told me that three Mondays in every month he should be at home in the evening and should be glad to see me. I enjoyed my visit to him extremely.

The political excitement is increasing, and Gneist had a demonstration from three or four hundred students the other day, of whom I was one, though rather as a spectator. As he entered, everybody stood up and shouted "Hoch!" which is the formula used instead of our Oxford "For he's a jolly good fellow, &c." It is at least simpler. He made a little

speech in answer.

A couple of nights ago I attended a meeting of the Theological Society, where the Philosophy of Spinoza was fairly thoroughly discussed by about ten students out of a larger circle of forty or fifty. You would scarcely find forty English undergraduates, or people of any sort, capable of discussing such a question or listening to an essay intelligently upon it. There was no irreverence or lightness of any kind, and altogether I was much pleased with my evening. The Germans

are certainly much more adapted to abstract thought than we are, but, as far as my experience goes, are mere children in practical matters.

I got home [from a four days' walk in the Hartz] in time for the so-called Polter-abend, that is, the evening before the wedding, of a relative of Professor Ranke. . . . . The play representing the different scenes in the lives of the happy couple, with good fairies in blue and silver, and bad fairies in red, was a very happy thought, and, upon the whole, was very well acted. The pair sat in the front row just under the stage, which was placed in the middle of the drawing. room. Several prologues were spoken, some by young ladies, who then descended and hugged the bride; and after all was over, they were both dragged by the players behind the curtain for the same process. Then the stage, scenery &c., were cleared, and the whole room thrown open, with a ballroom beyond. At the other end of the suite of four rooms was the professor's study, which was devoted to the reception of presents for the bride.

We sat up till twelve last night, and drank the old year (1865) out in punch with German pancakes, which are the orthodox thing for the occasion. Each of us poured a spoonful of molten lead into a basin of water, and then did our best to interpret the fantastic shapes of the lead as prophecies of our fortunes during the coming year. The Professor sang a comic song or two; after which we danced a quadrille as the clock was striking, and then opened the windows to hear the noise of the congratulations passing on through the streets. The city is quite quiet till the moment, and then you might imagine that a riot had suddenly broken out.

In March, 1866, Dr. Appleton joined me at Genoa, after a few days' stay at Halle, where he heard Erdmann. His own comment upon his residence in Germany, written apparently some years after, seems, at first sight, a little disparaging "The nett result of my visit to Berlin, and in the previous summer to Heidelberg, was not any great increase of philosophical or other knowledge such as I might not have acquired in England, by reading the books published by the professors whose lectures I attended;" but there can be little doubt that his future career was

largely shaped by his sojourn in Germany. It may have been that such matters as those with which his name was afterwards so closely associated, the organization of academical studies, the endowment of research, and even the foundation of a review like the Academy, had previously come into his thoughts; but certainly the contrast between a German and English university, a contrast realized strongly by actual experience of the former, must have served to emphasize his impressions and to direct them to a definite result; while the original plan of the Academy was undoubtedly modelled on that of the Literarisches Centralblatt. The Athenæum of Feb. 22, 1879, has an interesting passage on this point, in the obituary notice from which we have already made an extract:

He

Soon after taking his degree, Appleton went for some time to Germany, to perfect himself in a language which he already. knew fairly well, and to prosecute his favourite studies. spent some time at Heidelberg and afterwards at Berlin. The contrast between German and English universities impressed him, as it has done most of those who have studied both impartially, and he came home confirmed in the opinion that, while Oxford and Cambridge are admirable finishing schools. and consummate examining machines, they are far surpassed by Germany in that important function of a university, which consists in keeping alive a spirit of mature and disinterested learning and of original research. In order to give expression to this view, he translated and published a pamphlet by Dr. Döllinger on "Universities, Past and Present;" and to the propagation of a higher conception of the function of universities, in regard to learning as opposed to teaching, he subsequently devoted a great part of his life and energy. He projected a learned journal, after the model of similar publications in Germany, in which all books were to be noticed by persons specially qualified by the course of their own studies to deal

1 See page 89.

2 In 1867,-"in order that it might appear before the several Bills relating to the University of Oxford come again under the consideration of Parliament."

with them, and prepared to give their names as a guarantee of their fitness. This was the origin of the Academy.

Genoa was our starting-point for a three months' tour in Italy, of which many pleasant memories remain, though few are of such a character as can well be transferred to these pages. Florence, Milan, Bologna, Padua, Venice, Naples, a visit to Pompeii, a scramble up Vesuvius, above all a month in Rome, where we certainly worked hard at churches, pictures and ruins of every date-all this is a well-worn theme; but, at the risk of telling again an ofttold tale, a few extracts from letters shall be made :

The want of sympathy with art and with practices to which we are unaccustomed, and which we don't take the trouble to understand, is a most serious drawback to the enjoyment of a foreign tour, and, more than all, of such a place as Rome, which is a very hive of art, as well as a place proud of its past, tenacious of its peculiarities and the very centre and focus of Catholic Christendom. We really must put our dignity in our pocket in the face of the gigantic fact of Roman history, Roman art, Roman religion, Roman manners, and the great swarming city itself. How seldom do you find a German or a Frenchman impervious to all these influences; he will talk to you by the hour about a picture, or a foreign language, or the antiquities of a place like Rome, the architecture of its palaces, the last new phase of its politics, the significance of Catholicism in the world. Whereas—but I am quite ashamed to go on condemning our countrymen in this root and branch manner; and besides, we are not all equally bad. . . . . There are many English people of whom Rome herself is proud, and Gibson, Miss Horner and Nathaniel Hawthorne are a host in themselves, and may stand surety for us that the modern Anglo-Saxon is not quite hopeless.

The Pope himself [Pius IX.] is a dear, fatherly, gentle, spiritual-looking old man. His is scarcely an Italian face, but a kind of universal, indeterminate face-just the face for the father of a world-wide, manifold, struggling Christendom; and it does you good and makes you more of a Christian to look at its serenity.

He was much impressed by the service at St. Peter's

on Good Friday morning, a description of which ends thus:

The people went up two and two, men and women, the former, if anything, slightly in the majority; all classes alike, soldiers, nobles and peasants, knelt, uttered a short prayer, and kissed the symbol of man's reconciliation. As a moving service, this to my mind is unequalled during the week; and so far from the adoration of the emblem seeming superstitious, it appeared the most obvious and natural thing in the world; a great improvement on the British "Dearly beloved brethren,” some of us thought, at such a place, and at such a time.

One is struck by the exceeding plainness of the Roman churches. If the sacramental lamp were removed, one might fancy oneself in England. . . . . In the churches where Catholicism is presented publicly and authoritatively to the world, one looks in vain for the abominable and shapeless dolls, with their twopenny-halfpenny tinsel dresses, which distress one in France or Belgium. The mother of Christ is presented, by the authority of the Holy See, as the object and stimulator of devout aspiration, under the conception of Perugino or Raphael or Michael Angelo, as un gran pezzo di donna, "a splendid piece of womanhood," which will really elevate the mind by its very beauty above the level of ordinary life. I can't help thinking that a great picture by its very excellence keeps people from abusing it as an object of worship, and that when we hear of winking pictures or miraculous images we may be quite safe in assuming that they are rude blocks and miserable daubs, which depress the soul instead of raising it. . . . . Who ever heard of a Vandyke or a Titian working wonders? People say that going to Rome in the flesh is the best preservative against going over to Rome. in the spirit: I think that this is quite the opposite of the truth. If you don't see the Bambino, and if you take the trouble to understand what is going on in the services, you will be led to feel that what divides Christendom is not religion, but prejudice, ignorance, misunderstanding, differences in words and in the outside rind of thought, want of sympathy and communication, a host of habits which grow up, dividing man from man, and which prevent us from seeing that we are all aiming the same way,