author in regard to Southern society. He conceived that these views were dished out to flatter and secure favor from a Northern audience, for which opinion there was not the slightest proof. There may have been the best reason in the editor's mind to reject the views as correct ones, but that did not warrant the editor in assailing the personal integrity of the author. We must realize that if a man thinks he is liable not to think in the same manner as we think, and we must come to the point at which we are willing to let an author's views stand on their own merits.

Of course, the fervor with which we have championed our own cause in the past has come from what we have believed a just and creditable motive. It has been due to a warm defence of what we have thought to be the truth. It is conceivable that we have been right in our view of the facts themselves. But we have, perhaps, not understood that truth is a relation of facts, and not the facts themselves. That is to say, truth consists in a man's attitude towards facts. Now it is a man's duty to speak for his own idea of truth, but to do it in the modest consciousness that he is only one man arriving at his conclusions in his own way. He cannot be sure that he has arrived at the last statement of fact. He cannot afford, therefore, to set up a rule by which his fellows are to be admitted and excluded from the kingdom of grace.

The spirit of intolerance is the spirit of ignorance. It is one of those relics of an untutored savagery which survive among people who are not brought under the subjection of the kingdom of mind. It is strong in sections in which the percentage of illiteracy is high. It has had in the South the effect of frightening from clear and outspoken thought many people who otherwise would have spoken wisely. It has been closely associated with a certain tyranny of political ideas. There is, perhaps, not another part of the world in which the political idea so completely dominates all thinking as in the South. The political machinery has had a complete and effective organization with which it might destroy or set up the career of a literary aspirant. The present writer has seen histories defended and made popular because they favored the tenets of a certain political party. As there was no other party in the country, and no other press in the country than the press directed by that party, there was little hearing for

The

a historian who wrote from another standpoint. A novel was once offered for sale in a Southern town by a book agent. gentleman to whom it was offered said to the agent, "Why don't you go to see Mr. ? He is a good judge of novels, and if he says the book is a good one, the opinion will have weight." To which the worldly-wise agent said, "I will not do that; for I understand that Mr. is a republican and this is a democratic novel." It is needless to say that the novel in question was receiving flattering reviews from a large number of political newspapers. But how soon shall untrammeled authorship get a firm foothold before a public which is exploited by that intolerance which comes from political interests?

In spite of the obstacles mentioned, and of certain others not mentioned, the author is not excused from the duty of making as earnest efforts as he may in the right direction. It is with him a matter of duty. If there is provincialism it is his duty to overcome it. If there is want of scholarship at home it is his duty to secure it where it may be had. If there is intolerance it is his duty to endure it and press on toward truth, awaiting the day when men shall see more clearly and speak more gently. If there is poverty, it is his business to hedge himself about with the fortitude which can endure the world's impatience with economy and to turn all the thrift he can master into the direction of his hopes. However great the difficulties, great men will surmount them. This is a measure of a man's smallness, that he cannot bring to pass things greater than his means.

The future of authorship in the South will be in the hands of the new man. I mean by this that the men who will write the books of the South will be those who are not descended from what are supposed to be the leading classes. This is in harmony with the general social development here. The way of the successful author is pointed out by the successful business man. There is not a millionaire in the South to-day, so far as the writer can ascertain, who was not born a poor man. The men who were rich under the old regime are poor to-day, and their sons are not rich. What has given the poor men the advantage? It is the fact that in business the poor men have not had so much to unlearn. They have had no prejudices against work, no habits of extravagance, and no false loyalty to the worn out ideas of a

forgotten system. Moreover, they have not hesitated to work as earnestly as their last bit of strength would allow in their business. This is just what must be done in regard to literature. Men must go at it without prejudice in favor of one or another system of ideas. They must be willing to work to the last capacity of the mind and the body. They must sacrifice all else to the pressing necessity of continual work. They must not hesitate to live poorly in the world's goods, and unfashionably, if need be, to bring to pass that thing which they have to do. To this kind of devotion the new man will be given far more readily than the man who has been endowed with the blood of a dozen generations of slave owners. If there is a man who is sprung from the occupant of some small farm, or some inconsequential shop, who still has an ambition to enter the realm of literature, let him not despair. He has only to be manly and determined, and to love culture and truth, and the kingdom will come to him. Not long ago a man went to the city of Richmond to get the materials for writing a sketch of colonial life in Virginia. A few days later a citizen of Richmond, and a man of intelligence and official prominence, asked a friend of the investigator, “Do you know this man?" "Oh yes," was the reply. "Then why is it that the publishers have got him to do this piece of work?" To which the friend replied that he supposed the publishers thought that the man concerned could do the work. "But," said the other, "he is a Methodist, and I don't see how a Methodist can understand colonial history." That answer lights up a great deal of the social history of the day in the South. It is the day of the new man, but the new man must be rich in the spirit of life and willing to give his last effort to the realization of his opportunity. When such a man shall come to realize himself there is no problem which his fortitude will not solve. When there shall be a number of men like him in the South the future of Southern authorship will be secure.

Two New England Rulers of Madras

BY BERNARD C. STEINER, PH. D.

The reflex influence of the new world upon the old has often been noted and it is one of the most notable instances of that influence that two men of New England birth should have successively ruled Madras for the East India Company in the end of the seventeenth century. In 1687, the town of Madraspatam, or Chinnapatam, as the natives called it, was probably the most important possession of the Company in India. Situated well up the Coromandel Coast stood Fort St. George, where the Company's agent had established a trading post some years before. The fort occupied an easily defensible position between the sea and the river Cooum and became a great mart of trade. In the year we mentioned above, Elihu Yale succeeded "our too easy Governor," William Gyfford, as ruler of the settlement. The territory over which he governed was a narrow one, for the native Nabobs controlled all the back country. Other European settlements were neighbors too near for comfort, the Dutch being on the north at Pulicat, the French at Pondicherry, and the Portuguese just across the harbor at the St. Thomé. The black town, or Madraspatam proper, and the villages within the Company's bounds contained by far the greatest part of the population of 300,000 people. The white town, or Fort St. George, only covered a space of some 400 yards along the sea and 100 yards from the sea to the river. In this contracted space were twelve streets and alleys and 129 dwelling houses where the Europeans lived. Crowded together in this narrow compass and with little knowledge of proper sanitation, the little settlement had the terrible mortality of 101 persons in 1688, while there were but 11 christenings that year. Here lived the little band of Englishmen, who were writers, warehousemen, and other servants of the East India Company, in a quarrelsome, gossiping little community, often eating at a common table and yet broken up into the bitterest of cliques.

Hither came Elihu Yale as a writer in June, 1672, and five years later we find him a factor with a salary of £20 per annum.

The salaries were ludicrously small, ranging from £5 to £100 per annum, the last being what was paid the governor. With such salaries, it is no wonder that the officers yielded to the temptation to engage in private trade and to aid the "interlopers," who were gaining wealth from the country. In 1684, Yale had gained the position of second in council by slow steps of advancement and he acted as governor during the absence of William Gyfford, the governor, for some months. We next meet Yale as bringing up the rear of the troop of English gentlemen in the procession with which Fort St. George celebrated the accession of James II. to the English throne. In 1687, the Mogul army under Arungzebe, besieged Golconda and fears were entertained at the Fort that after that town was captured he would proceed against Madras. Clearly the "too easy" Gyfford was not the man for the emergency and we imagine that men breathed easier, on July 25, when they found that "General Letters" from the "Right Hon'ble Company" constituted Elihu Yale, President, and revoked Gyfford's commission.

Yale was to hold the office for more than five years, which were critical ones for the settlement. He was a member of a family which sprang from Denbighshire in North Wales. His Grandfather, David Yale, married Anne, daughter of a Bishop of Chester, probably George Lloyd, who held the see from 1604 to 1615. After David Yale's death, leaving two sons, David and Thomas, his widow married Theophilus Eaton, the London merchant, who later became the first Governor of New Haven Plantation and Jurisdiction. The two step-sons went to New England with Eaton, but the elder one, David, seems to have removed from New Haven to Boston in a short time. He married Ursula, whose maiden name is unknown, and to them was born, probably in Boston, on April 5, 1649, Elihu, the governor of Madras. David Yale was a merchant and being "not in cordial sympathy with the civil and religious constitution of the colony," as Prof. Dexter shows, he left Massachusetts to return to England about 1652. Many years later Cotton Mather addressed Elihu Yale as one who "left his native country in such an early infancy as to be incapable of remembering anything in it." Apparently, he never returned to his native land, though his gifts to the college there which bears his name, have preserved the memory of the man.