paper to enquire how this should be set about. It is known that this practical question is engaging the attention of some of our most prominent men of letters.

Scholars in England have so long lived without organisation that at first they scarcely realise what it means. When the notion of a new central institution is set before one of our savants, his first observation is apt to be, 'I do not see how it would help me.' And the second observation will be, 'They are sure to elect the wrong men.' Unless workers can rise above this merely personal aspect of the matter, and unless they can realise that knowledge is one great republic, of which it is our highest privilege to be worthy citizens, nothing good in the way of the organisation of research can be done. No doubt at first some of the best men might be overlooked, and the funds of the institution might not always be employed in the best way. But the great, the all-important matter is to bring some working scheme to the birth. Friction would soon rub away eccentricities; in working, the best methods would have a natural advantage which would secure their triumph over difficulties.

In conclusion, we may briefly summarise the chief advantages which belong to the continental Academies of Historic Science, some of which, at all events, would bear transplanting to the somewhat bleak but yet invigorating intellectual atmosphere of England.

First comes the recognition of merit. The path of the student must almost always be steep and lonely; he must devote months and years to work of which the results may seem but small. He may easily be so placed as to have communion with but few kindred spirits, while the study, which is necessarily a weariness to the flesh, grinds out of him the power of facile enjoyment, and makes him sensitive to praise or blame. Recognition by some authoritative body of the quality of his work affords him a solace in the present and inspires him with energy for the future. Honorary degrees at universities are suitable rewards, but they are seldom given except to those who have already attained high reputation. But the great Academies may seek out and recognise, in some way or other, younger men who have done, or are doing, good work, inconspicuous though it may be. Such honour coming to an Englishman from a foreign Institute has

been felt by many to be most encouraging and helpful; but there does not seem to be any reason why we should trust in this matter entirely to continental recognition.

Secondly, in an age when specialism is becoming a great danger, when there is a tendency among workers not to look beyond the limits of the particular field of their labours, the Academies are valuable as affording ready means for intercommunion of savants. Many of their meetings are plenary, at which all members are expected. And in the libraries and salons of the Academy buildings savants who are working in different parts of the same domain meet naturally, and find points of contact, or combine to take common action in the face of some impending difficulty.

Thirdly, the Academies are able to speak with authority in matters social and historic, and to advise or to remonstrate with their Governments when the interests of learning are involved. The Academies of Paris and Berlin are in frequent communication with the Ministers of State, who greatly value their advice. In England the Royal Society has influence; but matters of history, language, criticism or philosophy are not within its province. No doubt the Government would receive sound advice on many points, if asked for, from such bodies as the Society of Antiquaries or the heads of departments in the British Museum. But we must venture to speak plainly on an unpleasant topic, and say that the inertness of the Government in regard to historical monuments, and the want of appreciation of ancient remains shown under British rule in India, in Egypt, in Cyprus, clearly proved that it is not enough to be ready to advise the Government when consulted, but that it is most desirable to bring pressure to bear upon the authorities in England and the English possessions, in order to put a stop to abuses which are only too notorious. When we contrast the way in which historic remains are protected in the Crimea with the way in which they are at the mercy of all comers in North-West India, we see that there are matters in which the sense of the whole educated world would decide that Russia is far more civilised than England.

Fourthly, the Academies have great effect in the organisation of research, in the minimising of the sad

waste of time and power which occurs when students undertake unsuitable work, or do again what has already been well done. How much labour is thus thrown away in London, few know. But for the advice and help of the officials of the British Museum, still more would be lost.

Fifthly, the organisation of research, and the encouragement of such branches of it as seem likely to be of special service, are, in the continental Academies, largely carried out through their control of funds. They propose every year subjects for treatises, and award prizes to the papers which they judge the best; or they make grants for the payment of expenses of research. Many real scholars are in all countries prevented from doing valuable work by the impossibility of finding the means for carrying it on; and many tasks of the greatest importance are delayed, while the necessary material for them is day by day perishing for the want of endowment. The endowment of research has been in recent years adopted to a considerable extent at Oxford and Cambridge, but much still remains to be done; and it has recently been made plain on several occasions how inadequately provided are the wealthiest of our British universities for carrying on higher studies in a manner suited to modern requirements.

Continental ways are often very different from ours. In many respects the peoples of the Continent stand together on one side of a line, and Britain, America, and the British Colonies on the other side. But if there be one common quality which is found among the educated classes of all countries it is the mental attitude which has been produced by the great progress taking place in science on all sides, and which is to be found, not only in Europe and America, but in India and Japan. Institutions which agree with that attitude are likely to be of use wherever they are set up. There seems therefore no reason why the notion of an Academy of Historical, Philological, and Philosophical Studies should not be planted on this side the English Channel, to produce here also some of the fruits which it has brought forth abundantly in all lands between Paris and St Petersburg, and from Stockholm to Madrid.

Art. VI. SIENKIEWICZ AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES. 1. Ogniem i Mieczem (With Fire and Sword), 1884: Potop (The Deluge), 1886: Pan Wolodyjowski, 1888: Quo Vadis, 1896. By Henry Sienkiewicz.

2. Dzieci Szatana (Children of Satan), 1897: Homo Sapiens, 1898. By Stanislaus Przybyszewski.

3. Komedyantka (The Actress), 1896: Ziemia obiecana (The Promised Land), 1899. By Ladislaus Rejmont. 4. Ludzi Bezdomni (The Homeless Race), 1899. By Stephen Zeromski.

5. Na Kresach lasów (On the Skirts of the Forest), 1894: W Matni (In the Toils), 1897. By Wenceslaus Sieroszewski.

WAIVING the question whether, as a possible factor in European politics, Polish nationality is by this time quite dead, we may safely assert that in other directions it still gives evident signs of life. Chopin, Moniuszko, Rubinstein in the past, and in our days Reszke and Paderewski, have earned well-deserved renown as musicians. Modrzejewska, not many years ago, took the London stage by storm. The names of the painters Matejko and Siemieradzki are not unknown to the artistic world; nor are those of Olszewski and Madame Sklodowska-Curie less familiar to physicists and chemists. Every one has heard, if perhaps with slightly sceptical wonder, of the marvellous inventions of Szczepanik; and latterly the immense success of one particular novel has made the whole English-speaking public acquainted with the name of Sienkiewicz.*

Literary excellence shows the vitality of a race far more surely than the stage, or science, or even music and the plastic arts, for all these are in a great measure international. The language of a nation is its blood, so to speak; and a people whose literature is flourishing cannot be near death. We have been told, and have every reason to believe, that in Prussian Poland there is a noticeable revival of the language; men whose diction was formerly disfigured by uncouth Germanisms, now speak pure idiomatic Polish; and this revival is univer

It may be worth while to note that this well-known name is pronounced thus-Sheng-ki-é-veetch.

sally ascribed to the enthusiastic eagerness with which Sienkiewicz's novels are read. Let us add that the kindred nature of all the Slav tongues has rendered Sienkiewicz's creations familiar to many an alien; and that, whilst the schoolboys of Warsaw are still forbidden to speak their native language, it is read and enjoyed by men of Muscovite blood as far east as the Volga, and as far north as Archangel.

So great a triumph-far more important to the very existence of an oppressed race than can be imagined by those who never knew what oppression means-may well arouse some interest in the literary achievements of Sienkiewicz. But is he a master unrivalled and companionless, a mere monument in a desert? or have we in him the culminating expression of a movement coming from the inner life of the nation itself? This question we shall endeavour to answer in the following pages.

Not to mention a number of short tales and sketches, some of them masterly both in design and treatment, Henry Sienkiewicz has written: With Fire and Sword,' 'The Deluge,' 'Pan Wolodyjowski,' and 'The Teutonic Knights,' romances dealing with various periods of Polish history; 'The Polaniecki Family,' and 'Without Principles' (Bez dogmatu), both on lines very similar to Bourget's psychological novels; and latterly he has broken new ground in his 'Quo Vadis,' to which, we understand, he is now preparing to add a tale of the times of Julian the Apostate. All these have been translated into English. Considering that the translator has laboured on with untiring zeal for many a year, meeting with but slight material encouragement until quite lately, it seems almost ungrateful to hint at shortcomings in a work of so much goodwill and perseverance, the more so, as we note a decided progress in the latest volumes, Still, in justice to the originals, a few remarks must be made. The readers of these translations ought never to forget that Sienkiewicz is a master of style, an artist enamoured of form; and that he has drawn to the utmost on the resources of an exceedingly rich language. If these merits are not always discernible in the translation, of how many translations can it be said that they are equal in style to their originals? Apart from this, however, we often meet with expressions, clear enough to a Pole, but rendered with such literal