every variation of this constituent must produce a change of climate. Similar remarks would apply to the carbonic acid diffused through the air, while an almost inappreciable admixture of any of the stronger hydrocarbon vapors would powerfully hold back the terrestrial rays and produce corresponding climatic changes.

A slight change in the variable constituents of the atmosphere would suffice to account for different amounts of heat being preserved to the earth at different times. Such changes, in fact, may have produced all the mutations of climate which the researches of geologists reveal."

T

HE illustrious French scholar and writer, M. Ernest Renan, privately printed, in 1862, one hundred copies of a delightful biographical tribute to the sister, nearly twelve years older than himself, whose remarkable character, intellectual strength and refinement, and heroic self-devotion, made her brother's career possible. This tribute is now given to the public, with a very interesting reproduction of portraits of Renan in 1860, and of the sister as she appeared late in life.* It need not be said that the biographical souvenir is a masterpiece, full of tender interest and exquisite charm. The following sketch from the original felicitously gives, in brief, the story of a woman, not of the new type, but of a quality enduringly and eternally beautiful.-ED. SELF CULTURE.

Henriette was born at Treguier the 22d day of July, 1811. Her earliest childhood was a sad one and filled with duties and tasks too severe for her age. She never knew any other joys than those of a good heart and true affection. She inherited from her father a disposition inclined to melancholy, which left her little taste for vulgar distractions, and even inspired her with the desire to avoid the world and its pleasures. She had nothing of the lively, gay, witty nature which her mother retained through a beautiful and vigorous old age. Her religious sentiments, at first confined within the forms of Catholicism, were always profound. Treguier, an ancient Episcopal seat, rich in poetic impressions, was one of the grand monastic cities founded in the sixth century. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it became a

*Ernest Renan. Ma Sœur Henriette. Avec illustrations d'après Henri Scheffer et Ary Renan. 1895.

considerable ecclesiastical centre, and after the Revolution it was again a city of convents and of religious establishments. The cathedral especially was a very beautiful edifice, fitted to stir lofty thoughts and deep impressions.

The result to the sister of a childhood passed amid surroundings full of poetry and sweetness, was a strong inclination to culture of the inner life. Some aged nuns taught her to read and to recite the psalms in Latin. She learned by heart whatever was sung in church, and thinking over these old texts, which she compared with French and Italian, she learned a good deal of Latin which she had not regularly studied. Then a happy fortune gave her a superior teacher.

The great majority of noble families at Treguier were just returned from exile, completely ruined. A lady belonging to one of these families, who had received a very thorough education in England, gave Henriette instruction. She was an exceedingly distinguished person, both in manners and in taste; and the impression made by her on Henriette was never effaced.

The relation between her father and Henriette was very beautiful. Her childhood and early youth were entirely devoted to encouraging and consoling him in the many sorrows, trials and disappointments which he suffered. The son of a peasant sailor, for some time a successful mariner, but ultimately meeting with disaster and losing the little fortune of the family, he became a man whose stake in life was gone; a gentle soul crushed by misfortune. Henriette acquired, in sharing his sorrows, a precocious maturity.

The brother's birth, taking place in February, 1823, became a great source of happiness to Henriette and also to her father. She attached herself to him with all the force of a loving heart, and he returned this love in fullest measure. As

an example of his attachment to her, the following little incident may serve as an illustration:

One day, after having given her a great deal of trouble, she threatened him to die if he would not promise to be a good boy. As he continued to be naughty, she threw herself down on a sofa and remained immovable. The horror which this feigned immovability caused him was, perhaps, the strongest impression that he ever experienced, for he was not present at her death-bed. Beside himself with anguish, he flung himself on her and bit her in the arm. She uttered a scream. To all reproaches he only answered doggedly: "Why were you dead? Are you going to die again?”

In 1828 the father died, and his death made a very deep impression upon Henriette. Her grief was profound, and for many years she could not hear her father mentioned without shedding bitter tears.

II.

During the lifetime of the father the family financial condition had been far from satisfactory, and with his death they began to experience extreme poverty.

They left Treguier and went to live at Lannion, where the mother's family was located. Henriette was at this time 17 years old. Of a deep, religious nature, it would have been a great joy for her to have joined some religious order, and her attention was particularly directed to a convent at Lannion. She was, however, too good a daughter and too loving a sister to follow this inclination, and, instead, charged herself with her brother's education. Poverty was a constant source of annoyance and unhappiness to her, and she cried bitterly one day to see him trying to hide defects in an old worn-out garment.

Henriette decided upon teaching as a means of livelihood. "Of all conditions," writes her brother, "that a young lady of good family, well educated, without money, can enter upon, I believe teaching is the most trying one." They returned to their birthplace, Treguier, where they hoped to find more sympathy and some help. Henriette now opened a school for young girls; but in spite of her solid knowledge and instruction, her profound seriousness and rare distinction of manner, the school did not prove a success, and little by little she saw it

abandoned. Her very modesty, her reserve, her tact, which she brought to bear upon anything she undertook, instead of bringing her success brought failure. Obliged to struggle against the most stupid arrogance and pretenses, this noble and heroic soul wore herself out in the useless struggle amid a debased society, from which the Revolution had taken away its best element.

A few people in Treguier did appreciate her. Among these was a young man, highly intelligent, who entertained the highest regard for Henriette. She was at this time a very charming young lady. Proposals were made and conditions gently indicated. These conditions, however, would separate her from her family, for whom it would seem she had already sacrificed enough. The proposal was declined, as her heart would not allow her to enjoy pleasures and ease of life that she could not divide with her family. This was all the more noble, as she really entertained the highest regard, and even love, for this gentleman.

In 1835 she was offered a position as under-teacher in a boarding-school for young ladies, at Paris. She accepted the position at once, but it proved to be a great trial. She left her family, home, and birthplace, and entered upon this new life at 24 years of age, without protection of any kind, without counsel, and without friends. Paris, a desert of charlātanism, drove her to despair. A young, loving girl, who never had left her mother and family, never been separated from her friends, was all at once thrown into a frivolous boarding-school, where her serious ideas were scoffed at and her deep religious feelings laughed at and wounded every moment by both scholars and teachers. Twenty times she made up her mind to leave, but thoughts of home sustained her, and she decided to stay. All through her life she carried the impression of this first experience, and she was always very severe in her criticisim of boarding-schools in Paris. But by degrees she was appreciated, and became director of studies in a school of higher character. Working sixteen hours a day, crushing toil brought to her heroic development. Her information, already very wide, became exceptional. She studied the works of the modern historical school, and developed fine critical discernment.

During her stay in Paris her religious

ideas began to be modified. She began to observe from history the insufficiency of all special dogmas and became more liberal in her views.

In 1838 she called her brother to Paris. Educated in Treguier, by excellent priests, he early showed a taste for the ecclesiastical profession. His success at college enchanted her, but she saw with sorrow his inclination for theological study, yet never tried to influence him in any way.

Their father had left a heavy mortgage on the only property he had succeeded in keeping and on the house in which their mother was living. The mortgage was almost as much as the value of the property, but the mother was so generally beloved that no creditor annoyed her. To pay off this mortgage now became the ambition of her loving daughter, and for this reason she accepted, in 1840, a position in Poland to take charge of the education of three children. She departed for this in January, 1841, traversed the Black Forest, and the whole of South Germany, covered with snow, and joined in Vienna the family with which she was to be connected. She was received with marked attention and with great kindness. After having crossed the Carpathian Mountains they arrived at the Chateau de Clemensow, situated on the river Bug. Here she spent ten years of her life, and learned to know how bitter exile is even if one has a noble motive.

Now, however, she found compensation for her many previous sufferings in her position with a family of the highest character-that of Count André Zamoyski, all of whose members treated her with deepest appreciation. This appreciation was richly deserved, for she gave herself entirely to her three charges, the daughters of this family.

While in this situation the sister had fine opportunities to see the world, as the family traveled a good deal. They visited Germany and Italy, and resided at different times in Varsovie, Vienna, Dresden, Venice, Florence and Rome. Vienna and Florence enchanted her, but it was Rome in particular that she loved. She called it, with Lord Byron, "chère cité de l'âme."

III.

In 1845 Renan left the St. Sulpice Seminary. Thanks to the serious and liberal spirit existing in the direction of

this establishment, he had pushed his philological studies very far. His religious opinions were meanwhile very much disturbed. Henriette's belief in the Catholic faith had long ago disappeared, but she had always taken great care not to influence her brother in any way on this subject. Yet she rejoiced over his change of opinion. When he confided to her his doubts, which made it his duty to abandon a career requiring absolute faith, she was delighted, and gave him every help she possibly could. He was now about 23, old in thought, but yet a novice, and as ignorant of the world as it was possible to be. He knew no one; there was nothing to which he could turn. At this critical time his sister again came to his aid. Through her influence he was offered a position-not a very lucrative one, but one which would give him temporary support; he was to receive board and lodging, and would have a great deal of spare time to continue his studies. His. sister's generosity made it a pleasure to her to give him 1,200 francs, thereby enabling him to accept the position. He never had occasion to spend all of this money, but its possession gave him the tranquillity of mind necessary to enable him to do full justice to his studies. Her numerous letters were at this trying period of his life his only consolation and support.

While he was occupied with his studies in Paris the health of Henriette began to suffer great detriment in consequence of the extremely severe winters of Poland.

A chronic disease of the larynx developed itself in 1850, so serious that it became a necessity for her to return to her native country. She was not averse to do so, for her task was completed. All the family debts were paid to the last cent, and the property of the mother was free and clear of all incumbrance. The brother went to Berlin and joined his sister there, in 1850, and brought her home. These ten years of exile had brought great changes in her appearance; wrinkles of premature age were formed on her brow; of the infinite charm which she possessed when he saw her the last time in the parlor at the seminary, where she came to bid him farewell, nothing remained except the beautiful expression of unspeakable goodness.

Now began those happy, delightful years the memory of which, says the brother,

"forces tears from my eyes." They rented a little house with a pretty garden surrounding it. Their solitude was absolute. Henriette had no acquaintances, and did not care to form any. Her respect for her brother's work was extreme. He tells how he had seen her many an evening, for hours, sitting at his side, hardly daring to breathe for fear of disturbing him. Their mutual love had reached such a point that a secret communication of thoughts was sufficient to her. Thanks to her rigorous economy, and in spite of extremely limited resources, she made the home, in which there never seemed to be anything lacking, delightfully pleasant and charming. Their general views of the world and of religious matters were in perfect harmony. The general plan of his career, the purpose of inflexible sincerity which he formed, was so much the combined product, says the brother, of their two consciences, that if he had been tempted to fail, she was near him, like another part of himself, to recall him to his duty.

Her part in the direction of his ideas was therefore very extensive. She was an incomparable secretary; she copied all his works and mastered them so thoroughly that he could depend upon her as a living index of his thoughts. Her invaluable censure touched with infinite tact faults which he had not observed. She had herself acquired an excellent style of writing, all taken from ancient sources, so pure and so correct that not since Port-Royal has any one suggested an ideal style so completely perfect. This rendered her very severe; she did not approve of to-day's writers, and when she read essays which her brother had written before their reunion, they did but half please her. After this reunion a decided and profound change took place in his style. He acquired the habit of writing, counting in advance upon her comments, venturing many thoughts to see what effect they would produce upon her, and ready to sacrifice them should she so advise.

In all matters pertaining to moral truth, they learned to see with the same eyes and feel with the same heart. Her religious views had reached the last stage of purification and enlightenment. She rejected absolutely the supernatural; but she remained strongly attached to Christianity. She preserved a charming mem

ory of Catholicism, with its chants and its psalms. About a month before her death a religious conversation with the excellent Doctor Gaillardot occurred at Ghazir. Without being a deist in the vulgar sense of the word, she did not wish to see religion reduced to a pure abstraction. In practice all had become clear to her. "Yes," she said, "in my last hour I shall have the consolation to know that I have done all the good I have been able to do." If there is anything that is not vanity, it is this.

Her capacity for work was marvelous. She took an active part in the editing of several educational journals. Her modesty was so extreme that she never signed her name to anything that she wrote, and this prevented her from being generally appreciated. She wrote perfect letters, and her notes of travel also were excellent. She was to have told the nonscientific part of their travel in the East. She had written the story of the great maritime expeditions of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, after extensive research, and in works for children she had shown rare critical skill. She went half-way in nothing; her honesty in judgment was shown in everything by exquisite appreciation of what was solid and true.

She had grown old before her time, and had the habit of exaggerating her age by her custom and manner. Middleclass people rarely comprehended her, but the peasant class found in her an exquisite goodness, and those who knew how to appeal to her noble qualities easily discovered the depth of her nature and the distinction of her character. She at times had delightful revivals of her womanly nature. She became a young girl. In this she was superior to those who undertook the separation from nature and life preached by the mystics. Virtue for her was not austere. It was the natural inner life of a beautiful soul, spontaneously pursuing good, serving God with neither fear nor trembling.

In this way the brother and sister lived a very elevated and pure life for six years. The brother's financial condition was always extremely modest; but it was she herself that wished it to be so. She would never have permitted him, had he been willing, to sacrifice the smallest degree of his independence for any worldly consideration. "My God,"

says M. Renan, after her death, "did I do all in my power to secure her happiness? With what bitterness do I not now reproach myself for not having been enough expansive; for not having told her in words how much I loved her; for having yielded too much to my inclination toward taciturn concentration; for not

having devoted to her every moment that I possibly could spare. O, that I could recall every one of those moments to make her happy. But I take her elect soul as my witness that she was always my first consideration; that she completely ruled my moral life as no one else ever could rule it; that she was always the foundation of my sorrows and my joys. If I wronged her, it was because of a certain severity of manner, for which people who know me ought to have forbearance, and because of an ill-placed sentiment of respect which made me avoid anything which might have a semblance of profanation of her saintliness. She herself was governed in regard to me by a similar feeling. My long clerical education, during four years absolutely solitary, had given me this trait of character which her delicate reserve prevented her from conquering.'

IV.

The brother's total ignorance and inexperience of life led him to demand from her a sacrifice that was beyond her strength. His love and respect for Henriette was so great that he would not think of changing anything in their life without first asking her advice. But it was she, in her noble generosity, who gently hinted a possibility of his marrying, and she even suggested a young lady of their acquaintance. This led him to fall into a great error, for he believed sincerely that the sister would not feel hurt if he one day should come to her, saying, "I have found a young lady of my choice who is worthy of associating with you." In letting her speak of matrimony, he did not understand that it would mean separation for them. It was a mistake caused by exaggerated delicacy. When she told him that she had only suggested marriage for him in order to ascertain whether she really was all in all to him, and when she further told him that the moment he was united with another person would be the moment for her departure, it came like a death-blow to him.

It was not that she really was desirous of putting an obstacle in his way; it was merely an outburst of an impassioned soul, the revolt of a heart intensely affectionate. From the moment she met Cornelia Scheffer they conceived for each other a feeling which later became extremely tender for both. The noble character and manners of the father of Cornelia strongly appealed to her, repressing all littleness of susceptibility. She wished, but in the decisive moment the woman reasserted herself; she had not the strength to will.

Renan decided to sacrifice his new affection, and announced this to his betrothed. Upon telling his sister what he had done, she was overwhelmed with remorse, and herself at once brought about a renewal of the engagement; and after the marriage the brother and sister had everything in common as before. It was but slowly that the charming manners of the young wife completely overcame the unhappiness of the sister, but in the end Renan blessed the agonies which had ended happily for all. With the birth of his son, the sister found a new field for her sweetness, her invariable patience and her endless tenderness. The birth of a daughter and her death within a few months still more deeply bound Henriette in perfect devotion to her brother and to the mother of his children.

V.

There was but one more stage in this life of the brother and sister. In May, 1860, the French emperor offered Renan a mission of scientific research in ancient Phoenicia. Henriette was strenuously liberal in her political views, but she strongly urged her brother' to accept the mission, and undertook to be his companion. For an entire year (Sept., 1860Sept., 1861) her astonishing activity, and incessant pains, enabled him to devote himself wholly to his task and to complete it sooner than would have been otherwise possible. She was every moment at his side, and if he had died she could have given an exact account of everything which he had done. The frightful mountain routes and the privations inevitable in such exploration never deterred her. With amazing firmness she rode her horse above precipices, and made eight or ten hours' travel in a day.