technique of translation, the science of religion, mythology, linguistic ethnology, alphabetics, and paleography, and much else. Astonishing is the combination of technical knowledge in widely diverse fields which appears in his elaborately annotated translation of the famous Sanskrit astronomical treatise called Sūryasiddhānta, and which, again, he brought to bear upon his criticisms of earlier and later attempts to determine the age of the Veda by its references to solar eclipses, and by its alleged implications respecting the place of the equinoctial colures.
But not only in respect of contents were Whitney's writings of conspicuous merit; he had also the sense of form and proportion,—that sense for lack of which the writings of many a scholar of equal learning are almost nugatory. At twenty-two, his English style had the charms of simplicity, clearness, and vigor, and they held out to the last. And what could be more admirable than his beautiful essay,—a veritable classic,—"The Vedic Doctrine of a Future Life"? His subjects, indeed, if treated seriously, do not lend themselves to the graces of rhetorical or ornate writing; and his concise and pregnant periods sometimes mock the flippant or listless reader. But his presentation, whether of argument or of scientific generalization, is always a model of lucidity, of orderly exposition, and of due subordination of the parts. This was a matter on which he felt deeply; for his patience was often sorely tried by papers for whose slovenliness in diction, arrangement, and all the externals of which he was a master, the authors fondly thought that their erudition was forsooth an excuse.
Indeed, for the matter of printer's manuscript, more than once has Boehtlingk, the Nestor of Indianists, taxed him home with making it too good, declaring it a wicked sin to put time on such things, though playfully admitting the while that he had killed off with his own desperate copy I cannot remember how many luckless type-setters in the office of the Russian Academy.
Where there was so much of the best, it is not feasible to go into details about all. Yet I cannot omit mention of some of his masterpieces. Very notable is his "Language and the Study of Language,"—a work of wide currency, and one which has done more than any other in this country to promote sound and intelligent views upon the subjects concerned. It deals with principles, with speculative questions, and with broad generalizations,—the very things in which his mastery of material, self-restraint, even balance of mind, and rigorous logic come admirably into play.
Of a wholly different type, but not one whit inferior withal, are his Prātiçākhyas. These are the phonetico-grammatical treatises upon the text of the Vedas, and are of prime importance for the establishment of the text. Their distinguishing feature is minutiæ, of marvellous exactness, but presented in such a form that no one with aught less than a tropical Oriental contempt for the value of time can make anything out of them as they stand. Whitney not only out-Hindus the Hindu for minutiæ, but also—such is his command of form—actually recasts the whole, so that it becomes a book of easy reference.
As for the joint edition of the Atharva-Veda, it is a most noteworthy fact that it has held its own now for thirty-eight years as an unsurpassed model of what a Vedic text-edition ought to be. His "Index Verborum to the Atharva-Veda," a work of wonderful completeness and accuracy, is much more than its name implies, and may not pass without brief mention, inasmuch as its material formed the basis of his contributions to the Sanskrit-German lexicon published by the Imperial Academy of Russia. This great seven-volumed quarto, whose steady progress through the press took some three and twenty years, is the Sanskrit Stephanus. Americans may well be proud of the fact that to Whitney belongs the distinguished honor of being one of the four "faithful
