Professor Torrey's new translation of the Gospels has more importance than a mere substantiation of a thesis might be expected to have. Whether or not his theory of a written Aramaic (and in part Hebrew) original of the four Gospels is correct, there can be no doubt of the value to New Testament scholarship of a critical translation made by so competent a Semitist and biblical student as the author is universally acknowledged to be. And lest this brief note of appreciation be taken as the conventional tribute paid by the disapproving critic before he attempts to show that the author's theories deserve less polite treatment, the reviewer wishes to make clear that he has studied the arguments for translation-Greek advanced in Torrey's essay on “The Origin of the Gospels” and has examined a fair amount of the evidence without any preconceived notions about Torrey's ability to prove his points.

That the success of the formulation of religious ideas depends so largely on the achievement of a careful and often delicate balance between contrasting attitudes or ideas, is quite evident from the history of doctrine. And it is no hazard to claim that religion itself, more so than any other realm of mind, maintains itself by virtue of its ability to harmonise and balance significant contrasts. Paradoxes in themselves are only academic devices; the religious spirit must seek to attain cordial relations between the opposite poles.

A dark and delphic verse, out of joint with what precedes and follows, the type of abrupt and fragmentary utterances which has made many a student of the little book complain with Jerome: Osee commaticus est et quasi per sententias loquens. The ready acquiescence in the familiar refuge of the fatigued philologist, ‘corrupt beyond restoration’, is nowhere more regrettable than in Hos 65. The verse, obviously defaced, mars a glorious bit of ancient Hebrew writing, the otherwise well preserved poem 61–6. Generations have used all their wit and skill of interpretation to read some coherent meaning into the puzzling passage, willing at times to forego rules of biblical grammar or even fundamentals of biblical faith. All in vain. For ḥāṣabtî can be as little squared with haragtîm as one can conceive of Hosea, a heart of deepest tenderness, believing the prophets to have been slayers of their people or God to have been the slayer of the prophets. Whatever ‘demonic’ features his concept of deity may contain—inherited from sterner generations or reflecting the transient moods to which a sensitive and impulsive poet is given—its innermost and abiding nature is inexhaustible love which no sin of man can wear out, let alone sway to cruel injustice.

Nothing is more remarkable in the literature of our time than the endless procession of Lives of Jesus. They come to us in all languages, from Christians and unbelievers, from historians, theologians, social reformers, poets and romancers. In their number and variety they bear impressive witness to the perennial interest in Jesus, and the significance which men still find in him after two thousand years. Yet there is another side to this widespread curiosity about the history of Jesus. M. Goguel, in the book which will form the main subject of this paper, makes a suggestive comment on Renan's famous work. “There are questions, and the life of Jesus is one of them, which gain by being debated at leisure by specialists and brought in some degree to a focus, before they are exposed to the full daylight. The Vie de Jésus, by the very natural sensation which it provoked, perhaps thwarted, or at least retarded, the critical education of the French public.”

Dr. Ropes in his encyclopaedic treatment of “The Text of Acts,” in The Beginnings of Christianity, vol. iii, 1926, omitted treatment of the Ethiopic versions for lack of reliable critical material. In the section calling attention to the Ethiopic texts (pp. cxlvi seq.), along with the expression of opinion that an investigation of that field for Acts “would produce interesting and valuable results,” he notes the Ethiopic manuscripts recorded for Acts in Gregory's list, of which “one (Paris, Bibl. Nat., aeth. 26 [Zotenberg 42]) is of the fifteenth century.” Subsequently to the completion of his volume Dr. Ropes was able to secure a photographic copy of that MS. of Acts; and he did the present writer the honor of asking him to make a critical study of what appeared to be the oldest known witness to Acts in that version.

N. W. Ljungberg, Die hebräische Chronologie von Saul bis zur babyloniscnen Gefangschaft. Braunschweig, 1922. E. Mahler, Handbuch der jüdischen Chronologie. Leipzig, 1916. [A very useful manual; the date of the promise to Abraham (8. October 1764) and that of the Exodus (27. March 1335) are fixed by eclipses.] E. Ruffini, Chronologia Veteris et Novi Testamenti in aeram nostram collata. Rome, 1924. M. Thilo, Die Chronologie des Alten Testamentes dargestellt und beurteilt unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der masoretischen Richterund Königszahlen. Barmen, 1917. [The dates for the kings of the 8th century have been artificially harmonized with the “480” years of 1 Ki. 6, 1.]

It is no longer possible for any serious researcher on the religion of ancient Rome, and especially on what may be called its proto-history (the regal period and the beginning of the Republic) to ignore the work of Franz Altheim and the little group of colleagues who, with him, form what may perhaps be called the Frankfurt school. The present writer has seen no full-length criticism of his work as a whole, though more than one article has appeared dealing with particular points on his or his colleagues' theories. This essay is an attempt to describe and evaluate his attitude, avoiding, save for the sake of illustration, discussion of details which may be right or wrong without seriously affecting the estimate of his work in general.

The Roman garrison town of Talmis, now called Kalabsha, lies in Nubia a little South of the Lesser Cataracts of the Nile and was the seat of a god called Merul or Melul, a name hellenized as Mandulis. He was worshipped elsewhere in this region, as for instance in a temple of his own at Ajuala and in the temple of Petêsi and Pihor at Dendûr, and again further North at Philae, where a figure of him was in A.D. 394 sculptured on the North wall of the ‘Hadrian passage,’ but he is at Dendûr described as ‘great god, lord of Talmis,’ and Talmis was certainly the center of his cult. The first religious edifice known there was built by Amenophis IV, but Professor Griffith informs me that there is no likelihood that Mandulis was worshipped in it, his name being unknown in Pharaonic Egypt and apparently non-Egyptian.

Veri criterium est id ipsum fecisse.

This is the pivotal formula, the central theme of the speculative system of G. B. Vico.

When the question of the origin of this axiom, fraught with such important results for the destiny of moral sciences, is investigated in detail, it will be necessary to proceed to a thorough examination of the relations connecting Vico's metaphysics with scholastic thought, and especially with the systematization given to it by F. Suarez.