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not be denied. This is partly due to his early impressions, which seem to have been daguerreotyped on his soul, partly to his literary dogma that the real is as fit a subject for trayal in literature as the ideal; but most of all to his theory of heredity, which he developed into what he calls a scientific method. The latter has been unduly upheld by his followers as the only true guide of the novelist. However, Zola himself has not applied his method rigidly in composing the Rougon-Macquart cycle, parts of which are strung together very loosely. In fact, it is difficult to see in what way some of the novels of the series illustrate his theory. Psychologically his law of heredity is untenable. Nor does experience uphold it to any great extent. Children do not by any means always inherit the virtues, vices, or proclivities of their parents. The "law" also ignores the free will of man, thus degrading him to a mere automaton or to a creature of destiny. Hence we behold the heroes of Zola's novels struggle with the demons of inborn vices, but the contest is always unequal and proves fatal to them. Though they stand their ground firmly for a while, the temptation thrown about them always prove too strong and the drama generally ends as a tragedy. Human souls lying helpless in the clutches of their appetites, sinking lower and lower in degradation, and finally, after repeated efforts to break the fetters of their slavery, giving way to despair-that is the sequel of the realistic novel illustrating the "law of heredity," the lesson which the author intends to teach his readers. That Zola is, however, not a pessimist in the strict sense of the term, and that he is not given exclusively to the portrayal of the dark in humanity, is proved by several of his books, such as La Rêve. Had more of his productions been of like character his fame would have been brighter and there would be less cause for adverse criticism.

It were useless to venture an opinion as to how long Zola's renown will endure. In point of merit his novels differ very much. Some fall below mediocrity, whereas others abound in masterly sketches of character and events. In style they

are all more or less deficient, lacking the classic purity of some of his less-renowned contemporaries. This defect is not due to carelessness in composition-Zola was a very careful writer-but to a lack of refined taste. However, to this very defect his popularity among the uneducated classes is partly due. He is master of the Parisian argot and uses it with perfect ease. This makes his books somewhat difficult reading for foreigners. Furthermore, his novels are deficient in invention, in consequence of which they are characterized by a certain uniformity and repetition. Zola depicts men and scenes that have actually come under his observation. He cannot invent them like his great prototype, Balzac. The latter was extremely prodigal with his characters, whereas Zola was very economical with the use of material at his disposal. He utilizes it again and again, but so skillfully that only the careful reader notices the repetition. After all, his world is a narrow one. His mind lacks breadth and cosmopolitan sweep; therefore, his novels are not likely to become a part of the world's literature. Being mostly portrayals of certain types and classes of French society, their interest is confined within comparatively narrow limits. They are not universally human, affecting mankind in general apart from time, place, and provincial or national relations, thus differing essentially from the creations of such masters as Shakespeare, Cervantes, George Eliot, and Goethe.

Victor Wilker

ART. VIII.—THE ARGUMENT FROM EXPERIENCE.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE says, if anyone wants to know the truth of the Christian religion, let him "try it." It says the same for itself. From the beginning the irrepealable challenge to all has been, "Try me; carry out with fairness my directions for the ends purposed, covering every spiritual want of man, and I agree to abide by the result." "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God." Herein our Lord fixed a basis of judgment accessible to everyone, and whose relevancy and demonstrative sufficiency are not open to rational objection. This invitation to test Christianity by experiment, such as we use, and are compelled to use, not only in arriving at certainty in scientific knowledge, but in the practical affairs of everyday life, is, as its whole history proves, more likely to influence the mass of men to give Christianity favorable consideration than any merely theoretical presentation. Scholarly disquisitions and philosophical discussions in behalf of Christian truth have a vindicative and elucidative value beyond estimate. But they are for the few rather than the many. "Experimentals," one has said, "are the tests of Christianity, and not those things which are dogmatic, historic, and philosophic in the ordinary sense of the term. . . . The logic by which it is tested is in the heart." With the average man it is "the witness in himself," promised by Christianity as its unfailing and satisfying credential to him "that believeth on the Son of God," that sweeps away doubt and becomes an immovable foundation for faith. This witness is no less needed by the profoundest scholar than by the plainest rustic, and will be worth as much to him as to the other. Such considerations as the following apply as illustrations and confirmations to the argument for Christianity drawn from experience.

1. It is a test which everyone can use; one, too, whose significance and sufficiency in justifying a restful faith in

that to which it relates are sanctioned by its frequent, it might almost be said, habitual use in matters of moment, and at which neither the conscience nor intelligence can justly revolt. If Christianity, or the Church, representing it, said to men, "You must study a system of doctrine; you must take time, and exercise diligence and care, in penetrating the deep mysteries of faith; you must culture yourselves so as to interpret sacramental symbols and ritualistic ceremonies, and thus be led to an appreciation of me and to hearty submission to me," a standard would be created that would repel rather than attract; a mode of testing Christianity would be imposed that would at once, and properly, be pronounced oppressive, indeed, impracticable for men limited and crowded as they are in this busy world. And the making such a test would be strong prima facie reason for suspecting the system or advocate instituting it. But when Christianity says to all, learned and unlearned, "Take my recommendations, few and simple, intelligible to all, and prove me by trying their suitability to your life within and life without; prove me by testing their power to meet all the cravings of your spiritual nature, and to carry you through all the temptations and vicissitudes of being here; verify my promises by bringing them to bear upon your condition as it relates you to God and to man, to time, and the grave, and eternity," it proposes a method of vindication, it submits to an evidential test, which is inherently equitable and available by all. Men everywhere, and in every condition, sinful, tempted, burdened, disappointed in hope, tortured with anxieties, weak to helplessness for duty or conflict or grasp of God, can come to Jesus, and see whether he is what he declares himself to be, a saviour, comforter, helper, a giver of peace, an inspirer of hope, the creator of a new, even a divine, life within, that reflects itself more and more in the visible life before the world. His own words of assured welcome and immeasurable blessing, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," they can take and prove.

2. As it concerns Christianity this practical test has been

used by many to their satisfaction. So far from being a new thing, brought to light to save a falling and failing system, it is as old as Christianity itself. Through all the centuries, by the first convert and the last, it has been used, and always with the same result. The "we know" of the New Testament is without exception associated with it, is directly traceable to it. An experience is always behind and underneath the positive and joyous declarations of faith and hope in Christ. in which the New Testament abounds, an experience having its inception in a personal coming to Christ and seeing what there was in him, and what he could do for him who came. And so it has ever been. As the first disciples could say so disciples still can say, "We know whom we have believed." We know because we have believed; we believe because, taking Christ on his own terms, we found enough to warrant belief. But not only is there concurrent testimony on the part of Christians of all the ages in regard to the reliability of this experimental test, there is also the remarkable fact that none have ever come forward as witnesses to its failure. There are none to contradict the testimony Christians give. "All which the stiffest unbeliever can allege against them is that he himself has no such consciousness, or has found no such discovery verified to his particular experience. They testify, on their part, with one voice, to a truth positive, and the whole opposing world can offer nothing, on its part, against their testimony, but the simple negative fact of having in themselves no such experience." Men have rejected our religion as insufficiently accredited by its professed miracles. They have denied its prophecies all supernatural prevision. Scouting its claims as a divine revelation, they have intensely opposed it with pen and tongue. They have predicted its overthrow in the march of civilization, and have done all in their power to fulfill their predictions. But no one among all its enemies has ever professed to have tried its methods for bringing peace to the soul, for giving victory over sin, comfort in trouble, and confidence in prospect of death, and found those methods a cheat. History reports no such case.