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establish no less a proposition than that Judaism and capitalism are one, and that the commercial progress of nations has been an expression of the presence and activity of Jews. Dr. Ruppin, alarmed by the many evidences of the assimilation of the Jews by the peoples amongst whom they dwell, writes as an ardent Zionist, who has himself lived in Palestine for some years, and he dreams of a new Zion whose mission it is in his own significant words, “to be the last desperate stand of the Jews against annihila. tion." Prof. Sombart writes of the Jew as conqueror, as holding civilization in golden chains. Dr. Ruppin writes of him as threatened with absorption by the civilizations in which his extraordinary gifts have served him so well.

Prof. Sombart has a triumphant way with him which enables him to surmount any difficulty which confronts his thesis. Everywhere and in every age, the presence or the absence of the Jew explains, on the one hand, commercial prosperity, and, on the other, commercial lethargy or decline. Was Venice great, it was that Venice that cherished, or at least tolerated, the Jew. Did Venice decline, it was because the Jew departed. Did Columbus disover America; he did it with Jewish money—nay! is there not very good reason to believe him no Genoese, but a Jew? Did the English gain a new prosperity in the eighteenth century; it was not due to the discovery of the proper use of coal, as Jevons would have us believe, but is owing to the Jews. Did Spain lose her commercial importance; that importance departed with the departure of the Jews. Thus also you shall explain the decline of Portugal and the rise of the Dutch. We are to picture the Jew as ever gilding the land of the Gentile, and the Gentile, with varying wisdom, as sometimes tolerating and sometimes rejecting the good gift; it never ap

pears that the Jew has been welcomed as the benefactor which this theory would prove him to be. The professor disarms the critic by his naive and confident expressions. This is how he attacks us (the italics are ours);

Cannot we bring into connection the shifting of the economic centre from Southern to Northern Europe with the wanderings of the Jews? The mere suggestion at once throws a flood of light on the events of those days, hitherto shrouded in semi-darkness. It is indeed surprising that the parallelism has not before been observed between Jewish wanderings and settlement on the one hand, and the economic vicissitudes of the different peoples and states on the other. Israel passes over Europe like the sun: at its coming new life bursts forth; at its going all falls into decay." A page or two further on he writes:

“Our intention is to do no more than ask a question or two, and here and there to suggest an answer. We want merely to set the reader thinking. It will be for later research to gather sufficient material by which to judge whether, and to what extent, the views as to cause and effect here propounded have any foundation in actual fact."

That is the method of the book: "Cannot we bring into connection?" The theory is propounded, and every suitable fact, or guess at a suitable fact, which can be raked together is advanced to make a case. It does not apparently occur to the professor to "ask a question or two" of his readers -to suggest to their minds that it would be well in such a connection to consider the natural resources of nations, and the change in the economic outlook of various parts of the world which ensued upon the discovery of the use of coal-power. Readers might suggest to him that the simultaneous presence in any country of wealth and the Jew may possibly mean that wealth came with the Jew, but may just as possibly mean that the Jew came after

the wealth. It is not, perhaps, surprising that Prof. Sombart treats with superficiality the rise of England in the latter half of the eighteenth century, and it is to be feared that if he had given more attention to the rootcause it would not have helped his theory. The rise of modern England, as Jevons has justly indicated, was directly due to English, not to Jewish talent. The Jew hastened to the scene of exploitation. Nevertheless we can journey part of the way with Prof. Sombart. The fierce intellectuality of the Jew, his most striking characteristic, has everywhere made him a prime personal factor in commerce.

Dr Ruppin gives us some deeply interesting statistics relating to the Jews, whom he puts at nearly twelve millions, and to the decline in the Jewish birth-rate, the increase of Jewish emigration, and the increasing tendency of prosperous Jews to intermarry with the Gentiles. Dr. Ruppin sees clearly a fact which Prof. Sombart might well consider in relation to his pet theory. It is that there are more poor Jews in the world than rich Jews, and that the extreme poverty of the race in agricultural countries shows that the Jew no more than the Gentile can make silk purses out of

sows' ears. There are some millions of Jews in Russia who get a worse living out of Russian soil than the stolid British peasant wrested of old time from his. The intellectuality of the Jew is naturally of chief use in places fitted for industry and commerce.

This important tendency in its turn disposes, it is to be feared, of the main hope of Zionism. For what is Palestine? It is a country without the natural resources needed to maintain industry, and fitted at the best to sustain an insignificant agricultural population. Thus Zionism hopes to found a new centre and rallying-ground for Jewish nationalism in a part of the world peculiarly ill-suited to Jewish attributes. The true Promised Land of the Jew would appear to be, not a poor agricultural country, but a rich industrial nation forming a happy hunting-ground for the commercial spirit. It is to be feared, therefore, that Dr. Ruppin speaks with good reason of Zionism as a "desperate stand.” A land which has neither coal nor iron, good harbors nor navigable rivers, and is far from centres of communication, is ill-chosen as the new home of any poor people, and least of all the Jews.



pagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay asleep on the dust

by the city wall of Mathura. Lamps were all out, doors were shut in the town, and

stars were hidden in clouds in the murky sky of August. Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets, touching his

breast of a sudden? He woke up starting, and the rude light from the woman's

lamp struck his forgiving eyes. It was the dancing girl, drunk with the wine of her youth,

starred with jewels, and clouded with a pale blue

mantle. She lowered her lamp and saw the young face, austerely

beautiful. “Forgive me, young ascetic," said the woman, "graciously

come to my house. The dusty earth is not a fit bed

for you." The ascetic answered, “Go on your way, fair woman. When

the time is ripe I will come and see you." Suddenly, the black night showed its teeth in a flash of

lightning. The storm growled from the corner of the sky, and the

woman trembled in fear.


The new year had not begun yet.
The wind was wild. The branches of the wayside trees

were aching with blossoms. Gay notes of the flute came floating in the warm spring

air from afar. The citizens had gone to the woods, to the festival of

flowers. From the mid-sky smiled the full moon on the shadows of

the silent town. The young ascetic was walking in the lonely city road,

while overhead the lovesick koels urged from the

mango branches their sleepless plaints. Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood at the

base of the rampart. What woman was it lying on the earth in the shadow of

the wall at his feet? Struck with the black pestilence, her body spotted with

sores, she was driven away from the town with haste

for fear of her fatal touch. The ascetic sat by her side, taking her head on his knees,

and moistened her lips with water and smeared her

body with balm. “Who

angel of mercy?"

asked the woman. "The ne, at last, has come for me to visit you, and I have come,” replied the young ascetic.

Rabindranath Tagore. The Nation.


you, kind


"The Yoke of Pity,” translated from the lovely; Grantly, the military; Uz the French of Julian Benda, and pub and Buz, the twins; Ger, the liberal; lished by Henry Holt and Company has and Kitten, the audacious. The hero, the form of fiction, but it is clear that Eloquent Abel Gallup, the victim of his the story was written purely for the father's taste in names, and predespurpose of developing the author's the- tined from his birth to a political casis. For he seeks to prove that in an indi- reer, is also the victim, in one way or vidual the highest intellectual passion another, of all these children, but the cannot exist at the same time with author allows him to escape being in love or pity or devotion to domestic the least ridiculous, gives him a great life. The first part of the story tells soul, and in immense earnestness how the hero loved a woman to the ex- leaves him a really triumphant figure. clusion of every other interest for sev- The noteworthy feature of the story eral years. Then came the struggle of is the extreme neatness of its craftshis individuality for freedom, and its manship. It is terse without being assertion of its rights, despite the abrupt, and logical without being dry, bondage of pity he felt for the woman and its humor never becomes caricahe cast off. The second part finds the ture. No more agreeable story could hero married to a marvelously sane be desired either for private perusal and self-effacing woman, with whom or for social reading. Charles Scribhe had the understanding that she ner's Sons. should never intrude upon his inner life. For a time all went well under Mr. John Fox has well entitled his these circumstances, and his intellec- new story "The Heart of the Hills." tual work progressed. Then the child for every one of its pages seems acdeveloped incurable hip disease and tually to pulsate with life, and as the the father's passion of pity for her climax approaches, the reader finds swept away all his other interests. The his own heart set throbbing by its "yoke of pity" this time was too much mingling of young passion and the for him and he became a thoroughly fire of hand-to-hand contest in politics, domesticated man, captive and longing and finance, and ancient feud. The for his former state.

occasional glint of ironical conscious

ness that the conditions under which The family history seems to grow the action has proceeded are swiftly in favor as a form of fiction, and every departing, and in a generation will day brings a new phalanx of kindred, seem incredible heightens one's pleasincluding at least three generations, ure, and the wildwood atmosphere in the individuals well differentiated, but which the author revels half intoxi. still resembling their nearest relatives. cates the reader. It is this attribute of The latest example, Mr. L. Allen Har- bis work which Mr. Fox himself holds ker's "The Ffolliot's of Red Marley," as most precious, judging by his dedihas a hero whose birth and training cation, "In grateful memory of my combine to make him unpleasant to father who loved the great mother, the reigning Ffolliot, almost as her forms, her moods, her ways. To pleasant as the reigning Ffolliot is to the end she left him the joy of youth his wife and his six children, Mary, in the coming of spring." From the

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logical tables and statistics. Many an old Colony may envy the young State its chronicler in fiction. Houghton Mifflin Company.

very beginning of his literary career, he has been as faithful to his motherearth as a Greek to the “maiden and mother of men, the sea," and his singleness of heart is a rare quality in these days when too many allow themselves to be persuaded that one place, one party, one religion is, upon the whole, as good as any other, and end by being of no value whatsoever to any place or party, and no credit to any religion. His reward is the tremendous increase of power revealed in "The Heart of the Hills." Charles Scribner's Sons.

Approbation from the late Sarah Orne Jewett was praise indeed, not easily earned or lightly bestowed, but evidently her favorable criticism of Miss Willa Sibert Cathers's early work was not won by the flattery of imitation. Miss Jewett loved to show the beauty of quiet, unpretentious souls following the trivial round, accepting the common task. Miss Cathers likes to exhibit the fine quality of a nature almost unconscious of self; living only to guide others, to save them from themselves, to compel them to conduct their fortunes wisely, incessantly active and operative to the utmost limit of its influence. Probably the traits which especially won Miss Jewett's admiration were that Miss Cathers's charity is ready to pardon all sins and that she never preaches, no matter how great the temptation. Through her novel "O Pioneers!" move a beneficent woman and a girl whose very loveliness is mischievous, and even deadly, and about them seethes the motley assemblage of European immigrants that peopled so many parts of the Nebraska of thirty years ago, and Miss Cathers makes their history a message of enlightenment, to those whose imagination has not sufficient force to perceive all that is implied in chrono

The peculiar attractiveness of Mr. Arnold Bennett's “The Old Adam" is its perfect symbolic presentation of all varieties of the music-box, from the now aged pioneers, contemporary with the daguerreotype to the latest and hugest machines which, once started, repeat yards, miles, leagues of dialogue, monologue, or collective speech, regularly punctuated with clicks, and when silence seems inevitable, begin anew, until the magic roll of paper comes to an end leaving the auditor profoundly content to hear nothing at all. Mr. Bennett takes Mr. Edward Henry Machin to London at the age of forty-three and a half years, after he has made £341 by a stock speculation, and sets him to spend his un. earned wealth. He is as helpless as any part of a piece of mechanism and is passed through endless changes as to clothes, food, and occupation, always on the point of stopping but ever clicking and continuing. Sybarite, theatre-owner, stage-manager, patron of actresses, partner of actor-manag. ers, at regular intervals on the verge of ruin, always triumphing, he astonishes everybody but Robert, his son and heir, who ends the last chapter as he begins the first, by inquiring, "Isn't Father a funny man?" He is nothing less, and both his newest set of acquaintances and those who knew him when he was only "Denry” will find him equally funny. One mentally laments that Mr. Bennett does not produce something more natural, but does one close the book? Not until one ar rives at Robert's last question. Thus does Mr. Bennett shape his readers' taste. and they would not bave him change. George H. Doran Company.

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