Professor Machen, "is both a life and a doctrine-but logically the doctrine comes first." But Paul was not interested in the logical development of a system of thought, he was possessed by an irresistible desire to possess himself and to impart to others the Christ life. Nothing seemed to him too great a sacrifice to accomplish this, his life purpose. He had the temperament of John Wesley, not that of John Calvin. Whatever may be true in philosophy, in life experience precedes definition. The child loves his mother before he knows

what love means or what mother means. In the history of religion, life has always preceded theology. The Christian faith was seen in the first century, but the Nicene Creed did not appear until the fourth century. The life is the light of men. When Professor Machen says that life is the expression of the doctrine and not vice versa, he contradicts both psychology and history. It is not more certain that stars preceded astronomy, flowers preceded botany, and language preceded grammar than that religious experience preceded theological

thought. The thing to be defined came before the definition.

There is much in "Pauline Theology" inconsistent with the simple life and teaching of Jesus as recorded in the Gospels; but nothing inconsistent in the epistles of Paul if they are read as the letters of a missionary and an evangelist. On the contrary, of all the disciples of Jesus Christ, the two who have most clearly understood his secret and interpreted the source of his power are Paul and John-and they are both mystics.

P

RINCE EUGEN of Sweden would have proved himself a prince among men as well as a prince among painters, there is little doubt, even had he been born, like Zorn, the son of a Dalecarlian peasant woman, or, like Carl Larsson, the son of a day laborer. His paintings would have sold for princely sums on Fifth Avenue and hung in metropolitan galleries. Had his royal origin not placed a ban upon commercializing his genius, the schoolhouses and public buildings of Stockholm that glow with his inspired frescoes would have nothing to show the visitor but whitewashed walls or tawdry ornamentation. Instead, a painter prince, seated on his scaffold like any other workman, has labored, month after month, with loving hand and without compensation to share his own dreams of color with the children of Sweden.

It will be recalled that the present reigning dynasty in Sweden, the Bernadottes, with their passion for arts and letters, is of comparatively recent origin and of French descent. The great grandfather of Prince Eugen and his brother, the present King, was Jean Baptiste Bernadotte, one of the eighteen marshals of France under Napoleon, who was elected Crown Prince of Sweden on August 21, 1810. His wife was Désirée Clery, daughter of a Marseilles banker and sister of Joseph Bonaparte's wife. Bernadotte was a veteran of every Napoleonic campaign and had been French Minister of War. The arbitrary election by the Swedish Government of a French general to succeed the infirm and childless Charles XIII, although one of the most singular freaks in history and the sort of political patchwork that usually proves to be a short-lived experiment, resulted in turning a new corner in the prosperity of Sweden. For Bernadotte, both as Crown Prince and as King Charles XIV, transferred the pow ers of leadership and organization he had exhibited under Napoleon to the unqualified service of his adopted country, and his energy and public spirit have descended in large measure to the four

BY H. G. LEACH

members of his family who have succeeded him to the throne of the Northern Kingdom.

Prince Eugen of Sweden, the King's brother, is generally recognized to be one of the world's great painters of landscapes and of the luminous northern summer nights. His personality corresponds best with the schoolboy's conception of one of the noblest of the Knights of King Arthur's Round Table, a Sir Galahad or a Gawain. My own first meeting with him will always be a refreshing memory. It was the summer after the war, when all men's minds were turned to peace and reconstruction and the thought that somehow the world was to be made over and that it was to be a better world. It was felt that America would contribute to the new day, and there was a tendency in the Scandinavian North, as in the other parts of Europe, to idealize America and Americans and a curiosity to know more about our ways and our habits of thought.

car.

When we reached the inn in the country near Stockholm where we were to meet for an informal supper, the Prince drove up. We were presented to his Royal Highness as he stepped out of his It was an evening late in May, a month before high midsummer, and yet so early in that Northern latitude the afterglow of the sunset lingered on long into the night. As Prince Eugen, tall, quiet, and gracious, stood there in the deepening rosy light with the dark spruces in the background, he seemed more part of a picture than a reality.

It was a happy party of artists and their friends who gathered around a very festive Swedish board in the his toric old inn. War restrictions on food had largely been suspended, and the Swedes, who had grown thin during the previous terrible year, were now trying to get back into their usual stalwart form. As for the liquid accessories to the feast, the Swedes follow strictly the old motto of the Greeks, "Nothing in excess." For they live happily under the sanest prohibition regulation in the world, the so-called “Stockholm System"

of Dr. Bratt, whereby spirits are doled out according to the just needs of the population. Dr. Bratt did not interfere with the glasses set before us that night, as they had been carefully selected to meet the approval of that arch-connoisseur of the good things of life, Anders Zorn, who was enjoying to the full the last summer of his life. There was in particular one guest who occupied as much attention as any one at the table. This was Zorn's Pekingese dog, "Liten," which we would translate "Tiny," his boon companion in his last years. Tiny sat on Zorn's shoulder a good part of the time, where Zorn fed him and carried on with him a conversation of questions and comments, to which the little creature responded with bright eyes and intelligent head-shakings. Whenever Zorn talked to the other guests, Tiny began to bark to call attention to the neglect. Prince Eugen, the real presence of the evening, partook lightly both of the refreshments and the conversation, always attentive and yet often, it seemed, in a pleasant reverie.

In the course of the evening I found myself seated between the two artists and engaged in a social-economic discussion. That same Prince Eugen, who as an artist had turned from presenting brooding landscapes destitute of man to painting the factories and the busy shipping scenes which he saw from the windows of his home, was as a man interested in his fellow-men and longed to help solve the insoluble riddles of labor and capital. In terms of praise he gave his conception of our American workingmen. They seemed to him more fortunate than their fellow-laborers in other lands, with their baths and cleanliness, their better education and apparent consideration for others. Zorn, who had visited America several times and had opportunity to study conditions here smiled at the Prince's idealistic concep tion of our Utopia and in kindly humor tried to disillusion him of some of his dreams.

Another happy memory of that summer is an evening in Prince Eugen's home, the palace of Valdemarsudde

A LATE PAINTING BY PRINCE EUGEN OF SWEDEN SHOWING THE VIEW FROM THE
GARDEN OF HIS HOME

This residence was built by the Prince on a terraced promontory commanding a view of the harbor of Stockholm. Across the water is the southern quarter with its factories. Every ship that goes down to the sea or to the thousand villa colonies of the Skärgård or archipelago of Stockholm passes by Valdemarsudde. In the still glowing summer night we wandered over the terrace, looking out on the sparkling waters reflecting the lights of the ships, or stopped to inspect a statuette or a fountain or to pluck a flower in what seemed to all of us an enchanted garden. Leaving the garden, the Prince took us to his private gallery, connected by a corridor with the main building, where he has assembled a collection of the work of his friends and contemporaries. Returning to his drawing-room, we saw the gem of his collection, a painting by the mad artist Josephson, once rejected by the state, but now regarded as one of the art treasures of Sweden. This painting, the "Water Satyr," represents a male creature playing a violin beside a waterfall.

That evening ended, as all Swedish supper parties, with tea served indoors in the drawing-room. By the window sat Zorn with a box of cigars beside him, enjoying to the full the contours and color of the Northern summer night. Prince Eugen remained standing, and when he looked out of the window his eyes seemed to be searching in the bright Northern night for hidden, spiritual contacts and themes for his paintings.

Some twenty-five years ago a Swedish art collector, Mr. Thorsten Laurin, a friend of the Prince, conceived the

happy thought of making a systematic effort to bring real art into the schools. He and his associates maintained that every schoolroom should contain at least a first-class reproduction of some masterpiece of art to which the pupil could daily accustom his eyes. Not only this, but they were so ambitious as to hope that living artists would paint for the schools or sell their work for a reasonable price to serve the popular cause. The society which they founded is called Konsten i skolan (Art in the School). No one has taken a greater interest in the work of this society to propagate art in the schools than Prince Eugen. With princely generosity, he has ordered paintings for this purpose from his fellow-artists. Not only has he played the part of Mæcenas, but he has often stood for months at a time decorating with his own brush schoolhouses in process of construction. In 1904 he executed for the auditorium of the Northern Latin School in Stockholm a decorative panel of a Swedish summer landscape. More famous is his large fresco of the city of Stockholm bathed in sunlight in the auditorium of the new Östermalm Latin School, in Stockholm, a schoolhouse built in a remarkable return to mediæval monastic designs by Ragnar Ostberg, the architect who designed the new Town Hall.

This theme of the open sunlit landscape was expanded two years later in Eugen's triumph in the monumentaldecorative style, the altar-piece for the church at Kiruna, north of the Arctic Circle in Lapland. This church is something quite unique in ecclesiastical architecture. There is nothing like it under

the sun, for it is an attempt to symbolize the artistic aspirations of the Lapps, who themselves have no other buildings than their wigwams of reindeer skin. Prince Eugen's task was to create an altar-piece, and he approached it in a spirit of reverent inspiration. Conceiving that the Lapps and the people of the Arctic in their dreams preferred to picture sunny southern lands, he has chosen a landscape from a more sunny part of Sweden. No temple or human figure disturbs the scene. A clump of trees occupies the center of the picture, with a blue light around their crowns. The whole peaceful landscape is blessed by the rays of the sun. On entering the church at Kiruna one needs no sermon nor choir to stimulate to worship. Prince Eugen's altar-piece, pervading the place, impels one to bend his knees and lift up his heart. While there is no text, the work seems to be suffused with the spirit of the Twentythird Psalm: "He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul." Few modern paintings, whether secular or religious, have been more truly the result of inspiration than this painting, utterly devoid though it is of any conventional religious symbolism.

Prince Eugen is still in the prime of his powers as an artist. During the last years he has devoted practically all of his working hours to decorating the new Town Hall of Stockholm. Month after month Prince Eugen has gone daily from his palace to this building while under construction, finding his way in and out among the workmen, to paint on its walls a series of motives from the shores of Stockholm. These are now finished. In the winter of 1920, Prince Eugen made a pilgrimage to Greece and Italy. Always a student as well as an artist, Prince Eugen came under the spell of the decorations in Tuscan palaces, from the end of the fourteenth century, and when he returned to Stockholm he took his studio again to the Town Hall, to a smaller room, where he began a new series of paintings under Italian influence. To get them done in time he had to give up all his plans for the summer. These decorations are ornamental and make use of only three colors-red, gray, and black. Among the motives used are Swedish shrubs and the arms of heroes of Swedish history.

During these last years the people of Stockholm have been able to point with pride to the walls and towers of their new Town Hall reflected in Lake Mälar, and to tell the stranger that within, where the masons and plasterers had finished, their painter-prince was at work with the rest, leaving a synthetic memorial of his glorious art and his love of their city. In the future tourists of every country visiting Stockholm will go to the Town Hall in much the same spirit with which they enter the palaces of Italy, to see the inspired labor of the patriotic painter-prince who "for the joy of the working" has consecrated his genius to his country.

ATHAN L. MILLER, the present Governor of the State of New York, has become a National figure. It is a fitting time to appraise him from the root up. Whence came he? What are the dominant characteristics of his personality? What are the guiding principles of his career? What sort of a public record of accomplishment has he? How comes it that he is in high favor with the political machine and yet a leader of sound public policy? What is there about him that should appeal to the Mississippi Valley and to the Pacific Coast as well as to the State of New York? Has he the permanent quality of National statesmanship?

The story of his beginnings is the simple American story of a plain home in the farming country of Cortland County in the commonwealth of New York, the story of a hard-working mother with a vision for her son, the story of a boyhood and young manhood of struggle out of narrow and difficult circumstances into an environment where his conspicuous talents might have full play.

His parents were rent-paying farmers with inconsiderable property of any kind. His greatest inheritance was the inheritance of every real man-a real mother of noble character who sacrificed for him and kept him in school as best she could until he graduated from the

Cortland Normal and became a teacher. I met recently a classmate of the Governor's in the Cortland Normal of the year 1887, who gave me her impression of the boy of that period. "He seemed but a mere lad," she said, "although he was about eighteen years old. He was small of stature, no taller than the smallest girl in the class. He was diffident and very modest about his attainments, with that indefinable quality which came in later years sometimes to be interpreted as cold austerity. But it was never that. He was never cold and haughty. There were always a graciousness of manner, a cordiality and faithfulness in friendship, a firmness in decision, and a genuineness of character which impressed us with his straightforward honesty. He was particularly brill iant in mathematics and Latin, because of his keen, shrewd mind. 'Little Nate,' as he was jokingly called, was not only our schoolmate, but our friend, our brother, our comrade in all the activities of those never-to-be-forgotten days."

For several years the boy Nathan taught school near his home in order that he might attach himself to a law office in Cortland and become prepared for the legal profession. He never had the training of the great law schools of the country, but his mind natively was deep and shrewd and wise and there are

few graduates of Harvard Law or Columbia who to-day can match him in legal learning or acumen.

He scraped along on his own re sources, a poor boy in the best sense of the term. Soon he was elected school commissioner of his district, and shortly afterward was admitted to the bar. His talents were legal and political from the beginning. He at once displayed great ability at the bar. His neighbors are witnesses that there never was anything mercenary about his practice. He had no thrifty regard for money. Up to the time of his going upon the bench of the State of New York poor people were mainly his clients. The fact that they could or could not pay had not the slightest influence upon the way he handled their cases. He gave the best that was in him always. He became by all odds the chief trial lawyer of his county at thirty-five, when he was called to the bench. He was a jury lawyer, forceful and eloquent. His experience on the bench has taken a great deal of that particular quality away from him, but his rational sway over the jury mind is a part of the tradition of his county in his early period.

Beginning in his twenties, he showed great adaptability to politics. His first political address was in the little coun try village of McLean, where he was