of a principle justly celebrated with enthusiasm by all schools of Socialists- the principle of association. M. Blanc is right in recommending to workmen, for the enjoyment of the fruits of their labour, the system of life in common; the club-system applied to consumption gives rise to a very remarkable economy, and thus allows an increase of comfort and of pleasure to all singly out of the same quantity of resources. What in isolation would be misery, may, by association, become a passable existence. Association is even possible, too, in production to a certain extent.' Having made these admissions, and having confessed that this principle of association offers a powerful beginning towards the desired organisation of labour, M. Chevalier continues -'I perceive nowhere as yet a plan for the organisation of labour that can be adopted with confidence. We shall not arrive at this discovery otherwise than as Columbus discovered the new world: after long waiting -that is, for the navigator-and after a long and perilous voyage. The task is a hard one, and to accomplish it, will require several successive generations.' Still, on all the experiments and speculations even of his opponents, M. Chevalier looks with hope, as being part of the process by which the task will shape itself towards fulfilment. Meanwhile, it is essential that people should clear up their conception of what is meant by the organisation of labour. The organisation of labour,' he says, taken in its largest sense, ought to consist in a collection of institutions which should offer to the labourer an efficacious assistance in all the situations through which he must pass, from the moment that he is born, to that in which he takes flight into a better world. It is no longer a mere institution for the single purpose of securing him an equitable remuneration for his labour in the workshop; it includes all that is necessary to protect his infancy, to form his youth, to encourage his riper years, and to shelter his old age. And modern society, which dates from 1789, offers numerous elements for supplying this vast demand. For infancy, we have asylums and schools; for youth, schools and regulations of apprenticeship. Mature age engaged in activity has a great variety of assistance and supports. First of all, let us name with respect the savings bank. This institution has an admirable effect on morality. From the moment that the workman has made a deposit in the savings' bank he acquires steadiness, he knows what foresight means; the future obtains a real significance in his eyes. Besides the savings' bank, there are also friendly societies. For old age, also, there are similar provisions. And lastly, the revolution of February has brought out into relief the idea of the division of profits among the employés of an establishment.' With regard to this last idea for the amelioration of the condition of the labouring-classes, M. Chevalier declares himself favourably. Alluding to M. Leclaire's experiment, and to the fact, that the company of the Orleans Railway had, under the conduct of the director M. F. Bartholoney, carried on their business with great satisfaction for the last few years on the same co-operative principle, he anticipates very happy results from the gradual extension of the principle into various departments of industry. The advantages would be partly pecuniary; but chiefly, he appears to think, moral. The plan,' he says, would give the labourers a dignity, a love of order, and a regularity they cannot attain otherwise; and unseemly quarrels between masters and men would be avoided.' This, it is unnecessary to add, is very high authority in favour of the idea in question, which, however, can only as yet be considered as in a very speculative state. Some admirable remarks are appended by M. Chevalier to the body of his pamphlet, under the title of Measures Calculated to Accelerate Popular Progress.' These measures, for the sake of clearness, we shall enumerate, and present in the shape of definite propositions, applicable, according to the intention of their author, to France, but applicable also, at least most of them, to our own country. 1st, A revision of the taxation of France, with a view to the abolition of such taxes as are prejudicial to industry. A tax,' he says, is an abstraction from the fruits of labour. It is a deduction from what individuals are able to spare; probably from what they do spare, in order to make capital. When a nation pays a milliard of taxes, one may safely affirm that if the treasury had not taken this sum from the pockets of the citizens, seven or eighttenths of it would have gone to increase the national capital; the remaining two or three-tenths would have gone to satisfy imperious wants, preventing the people from suffering the hunger or cold they have suffered, or would have augmented the sum expended in pleasures. Yet on the other hand, there is a part of the taxes that goes to enlighten the nation, to elevate public sentiment, or even to give to labour the facilities that result from good means of communication. This portion, therefore, of the budget, subtracted from the national capital, returns to it; for instruction, education, means of transport, all are capital. To capital also may be assimilated the portion of the public expenses strictly necessary for the administration of justice, for the intelligent conduct of the political interests of the country, and for the security of dealings and property. But this immense military apparatus with which all governments gird themselves, in order to intimidate each other, or hold their populations in check (and how they succeed we all know), all that goes to form and maintain this is turned aside from the national capital, is lost for the nation. The military budget of states is-threefourths or five-sixths of it-a sterile expense; a criminal destruction of capital, the material instrument of social progress. It is thus that the governments of Europe have hitherto devoured the substance of nations; so that, after several centuries consecrated to labour with much ardour and considerable intelligence, after eighteen centuries of Christian culture, Europe is still poor. Let us repair as soon as possible the time lost. If, as we will hope, the various powers respond, by pacific testimonies, to the eloquent words which M. de Lamartine has addressed to them, it will be essential, in the name of popular progress, to diminish as much as possible the unproductive expenses of the state, and above all, to reduce greatly the budget of the ministers of war and marine. 2d, A reform of the administrative system in France. 'Our administrative system,' says M. Chevalier, among other defects, has that of being overcrowded with regulations (réglementaire a l'infini). With pretensions to liberty, we are the most regulation-ridden, and, by consequence, I do not fear to say it, the least free people in Europe in our enterprises. A compact despotism subsists in France by means of administrative red tape. We must render an account to government of all our projects, demand permission for every individual act we do. Some years ago there was published the series of the formalities necessary to authorise a proprietor to place a boat on the stream that flowed past his estate: no less than forty or fifty despatches are necessary for the purpose-a process that would last as long as the siege of Troy. This monstrous abuse of centralisation and the spirit of regulation causes great public damage. Accordingly, says M. Chevalier, to diminish it, ought to be one of the aims of all French patriots. He probably means that France would be the better of an infusion of the local or municipal system, and the spirit of individual freedom that characterise England and Germany. Of England, indeed, it may be said that it has too little of that very spirit of centralisation of which France has too much; hence M. Chevalier's remarks on this head scarcely apply to England. 3d, A tariff more conformable to the principles of free trade. In the United States,' says M. Chevalier, the head of the legislature would let his hand wither' ere he would sign a law that would tend, on any pretext, to make bread or meat dear.' He wishes the same were the case in France. 4th, The establishment of schools for instruction in the various professions, and generally an enormous enlargement of the system of national education. That these or any other useful reforms may have a chance of being carried, it is, above all, necessary, says M. Chevalier, that all classes co-operate cordially. Reforms can only be carried in circumstances well-defined. They are like those beautiful crystallisations, in the form of prisms and double pyramids, which can only form themselves when there is calm, and for which the slightest agitation would substitute a heap of powder or a confused mass.' Let there, therefore, be quiet, and with all activity, much patience. Canaan was reached after forty years of wandering in the wilderness. Let the apostles of an instantaneous millennium not be believed; but rather let the words of Franklin be kept in mind, If any one tells you that you can grow rich otherwise than by labour and economy, do not listen to him; he is a poisoner.' THE FOOTPRINTS OF GENIUS. In the busy haunts of crowded cities it is often refreshing to the mind to withdraw its thoughts from the actual and present, and to recall the memories of those men of genius whose lives have been connected with the particular locality. The hurry of business, and the perpetual flowing of the stream of human life, are there, however, a powerful interruption to such contemplations. In the quietude of rural scenery we trace more uninterruptedly and agreeably the footprints of genius, live again in old memories, and realise and luxuriate in the past. This was strikingly experienced by a little party who, on a calm autumn day last year, set out from the quiet old town of Abingdon for a ramble of a few miles into the adjacent country. Neither Abingdon nor its neighbourhood boasts any marvellous beauty; indeed the professed connoisseur (not lover-that is a different character) of the picturesque would pass the locality altogether as uninteresting. Abingdon is a genuine old town, with many genuine old defects such as narrow streets ill-drained, and inconvenient houses ill-ventilated. However wise in their generation the monks of the rich abbey that gave its name to the town might have been in selecting for their dwelling a sweeping valley abounding in rich pastures, watered by the silver Thames (really a silver stream here), yet the position was not very good for a town, inasmuch as damp and dirt for many months of every year are the consequence of the low situation, and fever and ague necessarily the frequent result. The country round, though often under water for some weeks of autumn and spring, is, when the weather proves propitious, luxuriant and lovely. No marvels of nature are displayed; but the calm, tranquil, rural beauty of fields, richly fertile, amply compensates for the absence of the wild and wonderful. Certain it is that our rambling party, when looking on those pleasant undulations, covered by fine pastures and graceful clumps of trees in their autumn decoration of the kindling, not the fading leaf,' did not complain of the absence of lofty hills and gorgeous forests. They adopted the sound practical philosophy of placing its full value on the scene around them. A gentle eminence, a little more than three miles from Abingdon, ushered the party into a straggling and most secluded village. Many of the houses looked nearly coeval with the ancient church, whose gray massive turret rose in the midst like the hoary head of a venerable patriarch surrounded by his kindred. This is Cumnor,' said an old gentleman, the leader of our party. 'Cumnor!' exclaimed the delighted voices of the younger folks. Then came thoughts of Sir Walter Scott, and of those personages who were cold rigid forms in the statue gallery of history, until, touched by the Promethean fire of his genius, they started into vitality, and became living men and women connected with our intellect and sympathies for ever. "This, then, is Cumnor! the place once belonging to the Abbey of Abingdon, given at the Reformation to the Dudley family, and the ill-fated residence of poor Amy Robsart. At all events, if we cannot trace the remains of any of the characters Sir Walter Scott introduced into his beautiful novel of Kenilworth, yet we can plainly discern the footprints of his genius here.' 'Yes,' said our aged friend with kindling enthusiasm ; look! there swings the sign of Giles Gossling's hostel, where the story opens.' But And sure enough there was the rude portraiture of the Bear and Ragged Staff--the cognisance of the Dudleys -on the signboard before us. Much to the advantage of the village inn must it have been that the great master of fiction should so accurately have attended to local details. Many a party of Oxford students and others have startled the solitudes of Cumnor with their visits since genius stamped its mark there. Leaving our conveyance at the ancient hostel, we explored all that remained of the dismal dwelling of Cumnor Place. Every vestige of the house is gone, and the mere outlines of the grounds adjoining the church are all that remain to satisfy the curiosity of the visitor. The church was our next object of attention. Some fears were entertained that we must depart without entering it, as the clerk or sexton could not be found. after lingering for a while in the churchyard, looking at some fine old trees, whose branches might perchance have cast their shade over the head of the lovely lady, the unloved neglected wife, who had really dwelt and mysteriously died in their neighbourhood, we entered the ancient village sanctuary. A single aisle and chancel comprise its extent. The object of peculiar interest to visitors is a tomb within the altar rails at the side of the communion table, with the name of Anthony Foster inscribed thereon. We approached the spot with something of mingled surprise and loathing; but imagination received a wholesome check when brought Foster, his wife, and three children, are in good preinto communion with the actual. Effigies of Anthony servation on the tomb. By the inscription, we learned that Anthony Foster was the younger son of a noble family, and that he married the daughter of Reginald Williams, whose tomb was pointed out on the pavement of the altar. There is no circumstance whatever to show that he was the wretch which the novelist makes him. be shared by others; for with all our veneration for It is possible that the feelings of our party may not Scott, the sentiment of dissatisfaction was spontaneous and general after visiting this tomb. We seemed at once agreed that Sir Walter had exceeded the license, and outstepped the prerogative, of fiction, in attaching such a character as he has done to the name of the individual whose monument was before us. Every fact seemed distinctly to contrast with the fiction, except the fact of name. "Tony Fire-the-fagot,' who is represented as having applied the torch to the pyre that consumed Latimer and Ridley; "Tony, the father of one sweet daughter, who disclaimed his nature; "Tony the hypocrite and murderer; "Tony dying by the fearful judgment of Heaven-all combined, form one of the most powerful and painful portraits of unredeemed villany which the genius of Scott has depicted. Here, in this Christian sanctuary, was a man of apparently fair fame, a husband and father of a *In Mr Craik's new work, Romance of the Peerage,' there are five letters referring to the sudden death of Lady Leicester by a fall down stairs. T. Blount, the distant kinsman and retainer of Lord Leicester, went to Cumnor to superintend the funeral, &c.; and in the letters of the noble lord, though there is much perplexity and annoyance expressed, together with manifest dread of public rumour and opinion, yet there is not one word indicating pity for the fate, or affection for the person, of the unfortunate lady. family, held up for ever to execration as a monster of iniquity! To exaggerate the good qualities of departed historical characters may mislead, though it cannot greatly injure; but if we connect such ideas as those called up by "Tony Foster's name with an actual tomb, in order to give an appearance of local exactness and accuracy of detail, it is surely an outrage upon the dead from which the conscientious mind must recoil. We left the tomb and church of Cumnor, saying, 'Certainly the monumental brass that has so well preserved Anthony Foster's name has been, by its durability, an injurious memento. Had his name been carved on humble freestone, it would have wasted away from men's eyes as his life did from their memories, and no mighty seer had then dragged his name from obscurity to stamp it with indelible infamy.' The name of Lambourne is familiar in Cumnor now; a representative of that appellation being still alive, to attest Scott's attention to local distinctness. any in the kingdom.' The hospitable farmer who now will bear no comparison with the rude abundance of The day was yet young when our party had made their survey of Cumnor, and it was agreed to prolong the ramble a few miles in search of another locality where we might trace the footprints of genius. So, accordingly, entering our old-fashioned spacious conveyance, and giving a parting glance at the Bear and Ragged Staff, we resumed our ride along well-kept roads, shaded by overarching trees, and flanked by verdant meadows, through which we could trace the winding of the Isis, until we came to Bablock Hythe Ferry. As we approached this spot, it was pleasant to see from the distance the old flat-bottomed ferry-good cheer in a nobleman's kitchen in modern days, it boat conveying three cows across the river. The clearness of the deep, though narrow stream, its serpentine course, the pastures of brightest green stretching away on both sides, the willows on the banks bending in the gentle breeze, and at every rustling of their foliage, showing the silver tint of the under-side of their pensile leaf, and here and there a majestic weepingwillow dipping its pendent branches in the stream-all these, with the pearly gray of the calm autumn sky, the gliding motion of the boat, and the tranquil gaze of the patient animals comprising its freight, presented a combination of quiet rural beauty worthy of the pencil of a Cuyp or Paul Potter. By the time the boat had unloaded its cargo and returned, it was our turn to cross, which we did without alighting from our vehicle. The horse was accustomed to the ferry-boat, and so remained perfectly still after entering; our passage being enlivened by one of the party relating a piece of romantic village gossip in reference to this same ferry. The story chronicled by the few residents of Bablock Hythe runs thus-A certain maiden, who bore the unromantic name of Rudge, used to row the ferry-boat; her charms were noted by the quick eyes of the Oxford students, yet the maiden, heedless of their praises and temptations, kept to her lowly occupation, till a certain nobleman, fascinated by her loveliness, and honouring the integrity which bespoke a pure and noble mind, paid honest court to her, bestowed fitting instruction on her, and made her his wife. How the water-flower flourished when transplanted to so different a scene, the village historian could not tell! But though the younger members of our party were delighted to have such a romance connected with the spot, the elders shook their heads gravely, and doubted whether the poor girl had really bettered her condition' when her boat was exchanged for a mansion, and her homely maiden name for a title. We had scarcely finished smiling and sighing, as our several fancies led, over this village episode of the fair maid of the ferry, when we drew up at the door of an old-fashioned, spacious-looking farm-house, with a lofty but strange building adjoining it. To our inquiry what that ancient building was, with its thick high walls and conical wooden roof, our venerable conductor answered: Oh, this is Stanton Harcourt, the remains of a fine old seat of the Earls of Harcourt; and that is the fine old kitchen, as great a curiosity in its way as A door from this curious old kitchen led us to a fine turret, perfectly square, that had once formed part of the mansion, and is still entire, and in good preservation. The ground-floor of the turret contains what was once a beautiful private Roman Catholic chapel, now used for the very different purpose of receiving a clothes mangle and other household lumber. The roof and walls still exhibit traces of rich gilding and elaborate decoration. A door at the right-hand side of the altar opened on a winding turret-stair, that led into a little upper room, having the appearance of a confessional. From this the staircase conducted to a square con venient room, that might appropriately have belonged to the priest who officiated in the chapel; and still ascending to the third and highest storey, we entered a handsome square lofty room, richly paneled with polished oak. On one side was the small ancient fireplace, on the other three sides were casement windows, commanding extensive and varied views of the adjacent country. This room is called Pope's study,' said our aged conductor: here he finished the Odyssey.' A more appropriate room for a poet's study could not be imagined than this lovely turret chamber. From the window opposite the fireplace, where it may be supposed Pope generally sat, there is a fine view of the immediately-adjoining parish church; and the tops of the trees wave their foliage directly beneath the windows of this lofty room. Here, far removed from vulgar noise or casual intrusion, the country, with its meadows, streams, and groves, spread out like a vast map far beneath the church tower, for a next-door neighbour; the winds, as they swept over the trees, for minstrels; and the clouds for an ever-varying moving panoramawell might the poet hold high converse with the mighty dead, and realise the visions, and invoke the spirit, of 1 the father of poetry ! * To leave this room, with its interesting associations, was in every sense a descent. The same kind courtesy that had permitted us to view the turret enabled us to enter the church, where the principal object of attraction was the private chapel over the vault of the Harcourt family. The tombs and monuments were richly gilded and emblazoned; but, we thought, with more of splendour than of taste. Fullsized marble effigies of the Earls of Harcourt, in their robes and coronets-the figures painted and gilded, to | represent the costume-made a showy, but not very impressive spectacle. Two exquisite busts by Roubilliac contrasted favourably in beauty, purity, and simplicity, with the gorgeously-painted monuments. and hearing, it would be difficult to find than this old council-chamber over the abbey gate; and not less highly honoured is that ancient place in its present use than it was in days of yore. Education is a glorious privilege, the birthright not merely of England's princes and peers, but of her people and her peasants. HISTORY OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY. A wORK under the above title has just come before the reading public. It contains matter to interest the philosophical and scientific inquirer, the antiquary, and the historian, and is free from an objection that too often applies to historical publications-that of skimming the It happened that the vault of the Harcourt and surface of events only, and leaving the under-current Vernon family was open, the funeral of the Arch- altogether disregarded. The book now before us* is bishop of York being fixed to take place on the follow-professedly written to give us a private as well as ing day. To descend from viewing the splendours of public history of the venerable body whose doings it the garish monuments to witness the solemn secrets of records; and this circumstance, we think, will enable the charnel-house, afforded a salutary lesson. Sixteen us to present a résumé acceptable to the general reader. large coffins were visible, many of them much dilapi- The origin of scientific societies and academies on the dated; rotting wood, faded velvet, and tarnished brass, | continent dates from the fifteenth century. Bacon proall proclaiming that no matter what the outward posed a philosophical college on a magnificent plan in trappings, decay's effacing finger' cares nothing for his Instauration of the Sciences.' The first learned human distinctions. A broad shelf was erected round society, however, in this country appears to have been this vault for the Vernon family, which, by inter- antiquarian : it was founded in 1572 by Archbishop marriages, had become closely united with the Har- Parker, for the preservation of ancient documents, but courts. The late archbishop was the first who, on the was dissolved by King James. An unsuccessful attempt morrow, was to take possession of this compartment of was made in the reign of Charles I. to establish⚫ Mithe vault. nerva's Museum,' a collegiate institution, the proposed site of which was Covent Garden, where not only all the then known sciences and languages, but riding, fencing, music, and singing were to be taught. Perhaps it failed in not being sufficiently popular, as no one who could not produce armorial bearings was to be admitted. Another scheme was proposed by Sir W. Petty in 1648, for a gymnasium mechanicum, or college of tradesmen, in which the mechanical arts were to be cultivated. The civil commotion, in fact, gave rise to a host of similar projects, of which, in quieter times, nothing remained but the name. Ascending to the church, it was a relief to wander into the adjoining burial-ground, and view the turret and windows of Pope's study from that quiet place. Near the door of the church there is an interesting tablet erected by the poet's friend, Lord Harcourt, to the memory of two lovers killed by lightning. Pope, at the request of Lord Harcourt, wrote the following epitaph: ، Think not, by rigorous judgment seized, Mercy alike to kill or save. And face the flash that melts the ball!' This incident probably furnished Thomson with the hint for his beautiful tale of Celadon and Amelia. Feeling that our ride had been as much diversified with records of the past, enjoyment of the present, and visits to the dwellings of the living and the dead, as could well be within the limits of one morning's ramble, we returned to Abingdon (passing on our way the house that had once been that of Elwes the miser), and admiring the stately old market-place, which stands in the centre of the ancient town. After a brief time spent in rest and refreshment, we went forth again in the evening to witness a modern appropriation of an ancient building. The gateway of the venerable Abbey of Abingdon is yet entire; and every schoolboy in the town feels some pride as he recalls the fact, that the most learned of our Anglo-Norman princes, Henry Beauclerc, was educated in that old monastic school. Over the gateway there are some fine old | vaulted chambers, one of which is now the lectureroom of the Mechanics' Institution; and whatever may be said of modern improvements, a more commodious, well-ventilated room, better constructed for speaking * Pope, in a letter to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, says I owe this old house the same gratitude that we do to an old friend that harbours us in his declining condition, nay, even in his last extremities. I have found this an excellent place for retirement and study, where no one who passes by can dream there is an inhabitant, and even anybody that would visit me dares not venture under my roof. You will not wonder I have translated a great deal of Homer in this retreat : any one that sees it, will own I could not have chosen a fitter or more likely place to converse with the dead! | In common with many other associations, the Royal Society grew out of the occasional meeting of a few individuals, either at their own houses or elsewhere, for the discussion of natural philosophy. These meetings commenced probably about the year 1600, sometimes in London, at others in Oxford, according to circumstances. When in the metropolis, the Bull's Head Tavern, Cheapside, was frequently the place of reunion, or Gresham College. Certain of these gentlemen, among whom was the illustrious Boyle, formed a party known as the 'Invisible College;' and there is scarcely an eminent name of the age-Evelyn, Hooke, Cowley, Wilkins, Hartlib, &c.-which we do not find connected with some proposal for a regularly-constituted society. Such men as these were glad to have an intellectual resource against the distractions of the civil war, and studied science for its own sake. At one time they were dispossessed of Gresham College, to make way for soldiers, who, while quartered in the building, made it a scene of havoc, filth, and abomination, as feelingly recorded by Dr Sprat, whose philosophical sympathies led him to visit the place where he and his colleagues had pursued their investigations. In 1660, however, the meetings were resumed at the college, when a list of forty-one names was drawn up of persons actually or likely to become associated members. From so small a beginning sprung a society whose reputation is co-extensive with the limits of science. The record of the early meetings presents a singular mixture of large philosophical views, with the most absurd and superstitious notions respecting many things now clear and familiar to us as household words. cannot fail, however, to be impressed by the earnestness One * A History of the Royal Society, with Memoirs of the Presidents; Compiled from Authentic Documents. By C. R. Weld, Esq. Barrister-at-Law, Assistant Secretary and Librarian to the Royal Society. In 2 vols. London : J. W. Parker. of purpose by which the proceedings of these pioneers published in 1664-5, under the superintendence of the of knowledge are characterised. We must remember Society's indefatigable secretary, Oldenburg. The conthat they were two centuries nearer to what are called tents of the first number are eminently characteristic of 'the dark ages' than it is our fortune to be. It was the the period. First there are queries and descriptions age of Galileo, Milton, and many others whose names concerning philosophical and physical subjects, followed will long be famous. Glimmerings of great truths were by improvement of optick glasses at Rome;' observabeginning to force their way into men's minds; but tions on Jupiter; endeavours towards a history of cold; prejudice and error were yet powerful. Milton himself to find the longitude by means of clock machinery; and wrote doubtingly of the Copernican theory. We must among the rest, a relation of a very odd monstrous remember, also, that whatever their defects, the indi- calf.' Nature was so freakish in those days, or rather viduals here brought under notice were the connecting such was the belief entertained of her powers, that the links between the master minds of a former and later most childish and irrelevant circumstances were reperiod. Some of them were not far from realising and garded with a sort of reverent wonder. This important anticipating Newton's transcendent discoveries. Look- series of works was commenced in numbers one to ing, in short, at the whole spirit and circumstances of appear occasionally, as matter came to hand. Frequent the times, we find ample reason to regard the labours interruptions took place at first in the publicationof our embryo society with reverence as well as indul- sometimes it was want of funds; then came the Plague; gence. and afterwards the great fire.' The seventh and We shall thus be prepared to learn that our philoso-eighth numbers were printed at Oxford, owing to the phers were believers in witchcraft, in the virtues of May- difficulty of getting the work done in London. A large dew and the divining-rod, and among other charms, that quantity were burnt in the vaults of St Faith's, under of touching for the evil.' In many instances philoso- St Paul's, where they had been stored by the bookphical questions were mooted which still occupy the at- sellers. Sometimes the secretary was put to his shifts tention of naturalists: thus we have pendulum experi- for material for a number: the Fellows seem to have ments by Wren, and Boyle's air-pump, the germ of the entertained a notion that there was little or nothing present more perfect instrument: inquiries were pro- left for them to learn or to write about. Discoursing of pounded for the use of voyagers going to Teneriffe, vary- natural philosophy in the preface to the seventeenth ing but little from the instructions issued for recent ex- volume, he says, it may seem as if the subject were ploring expeditions; the weight and temperature of the almost exhausted.' This was in 1693. From that time atmosphere at different levels were to be ascertained; the publication of the Transactions' has gone on with the effect of air on metals; the rate of a clock at the regularity; at the present time, the general rule is, to top of the mountain; and whether birds flew as briskly, publish two parts every year, at intervals of six months: and flame burnt as brightly, at that height as in the every Fellow of the Society is entitled to a copy on devalleys. The Society was incorporated by royal char- mand; besides which, the annual volumes are presented ter in July 1662, but without any other endowment to numerous scientific institutions at home and abroad. than the award of certain Irish estates. It was worth The knowledge of profound scientific and philosophical while for the newly-restored court to conciliate men of subjects is thus periodically transmitted throughout station and learning, who might become influential agi- Europe and the United States. tators; yet the award turned out to be merely nominal: in the struggle for confiscated lands in Ireland, political partisans found no difficulty in setting aside the claims of philosophers. Chelsea College was afterwards granted to the Society as a place of meeting, and residence for their officers; but here, again, obstacles arose which prevented them from taking possession. The want of a suitable place in which to meet and conduct their affairs often led the Fellows' to project a building for themselves; but the design always fell to the ground, through want of funds and other causes. The practical utility of the Society appears to have been greater in the first century of its establishment than in later times. This may be accounted for in various ways there was a law commanding that all new inventions, mechanical or otherwise, should be approved by the Society before a patent was granted to the inventors. At that period, too, the Royal Society was the only body to which a scientific question could be referred; while in the present day scarcely a science but has its locus, its official staff, and band of followers. Thus new discoveries are at once carried to the quarter where they will be best understood and appreciated, while the Royal Society assumes to itself the privilege of deciding in higher and more abstruse questions, but which, as portions of truth, have an indirect practical tendency. The Society paid much attention to the collecting of information and specimens of natural objects both at home and abroad. Persons were employed to travel with this view, and it seems that nothing came amiss to them with specimens of natural history, they picked up the wildest notions and conceits respecting natural phenomena, all of which were duly jotted down for the edification of their employers. These specimens, however, formed the nucleus of a museum, of which the Fellows' were justly proud, so renowned did it become for its rarities.' This interesting collection was eventually made over to the British Museum, where it still remains. The Philosophical Transactions' were first Under the date June 1665-6, we have a curious account of an experimental transfusion of blood from one living animal to another. The idea was derived from similar operations made in Paris a short time previously, which had excited great interest. The most important results, in fact, were anticipated from the experiments upon the human animal. According to some, the alchemical reveries of an elixir of life and immortality' were about to be realised. The first trial was proposed to be made on some lunatics; but Dr Allen, physician to Bedlam, refused to give up patients for the purpose. At length, in 1667, Arthur Coga, a poor Cambridge | student, of eccentric habits, offered to undergo the experiment of transfusion for a guinea. It was performed at Arundel House, at which place the Society then met; a quantity of sheep's blood was passed into the patient's arm, some of his own having been first taken away. After the operation, we are informed, the patient was well and merry, and drank a glass or two of canary, and took a pipe of tobacco, in the presence of forty or more persons; he then went home, and continued well all day, his pulse being stronger and fuller than before.' The experiment was repeated about a month later; eight ounces of blood being drawn from the man's arm, and fourteen ounces of sheep's blood passed in, with similar results. The transfusion of blood, however, failed of accomplishing what had been anticipated: old men were not to be made young again on such easy terms. An eminent living philosopher has expressed his satisfaction at the failure: had it been otherwise, he observes, tyrants would have perpetuated themselves through all generations. Leaving these details, we must now go rapidly over the leading events in the history of the Society. Between 1665-70 we have the building of the Greenwich Observatory and the appointment of Flamsteed as first astronomer-royal. There is perhaps no scientific institution in the kingdom the duties of which have been more efficiently or advantageously performed than in this, which originated with the Royal Society, and with which they 1 1 |