Going farther, we find a mathematics laboratory and a department of mathematical instruments. The first is “remarkable for its diagrams of the heavens, as the hall of physics for its diagrams of the earth.... A chart of the star-studded heavens and a reproduction of the whole shining host above were shown,” ... and also “different illustrations representing tools and machines, small models, figures of geometry; instruments of the mechanical arts, drawn, named, and explained.” I cannot help expressing my admiration here for the concrete imagination of this remarkable scholar: he deliberately anticipated, not in the vague, allegorical form that Bacon does, but as lucidly as an architect or a museum curator, the sort of institute which South Kensington, with its Departments of Physical and Natural Science, or perhaps the Smithsonian in America, has just begun to resemble. If our museums had begun with the ideal Andreæ had in mind, instead of with the miscellaneous rubbish which was the nucleus of their collections--and still remains the nucleus in many of the less advanced institutions--the presentation of the sciences would be a more adequate thing than it is. Does Andreæ leave the fine arts out of his picture? By no means. “Opposite the pharmacy is a very roomy shop for pictorial art, an art in which the city takes the greatest delight. For the city, besides being decorated all over with pictures representing the various phases of the earth, makes use of them especially in the instruction of youth and for rendering learning more easy.... Besides, pictures and statues of famous men are to be seen everywhere, an incentive of no mean value to the young for striving to imitate their virtue.... At the same time also, the beauty of forms is so pleasing to them that they embrace with a whole heart the inner beauty of virtue itself.” At the summit of art and science we naturally find in Christianopolis the temple of religion. Alas! the hand of Calvin has been busy in Christianopolis--recollect that Andreæ once lived in Geneva and admired its ordinances--and attendance at prayers is compulsory. In order to get an idea of this great circular temple, three hundred sixteen feet in circumference and seventy feet high, we must think of a colossal moving picture theater in a modern metropolis. The comparison is not essentially sacrilegious; and I believe that those who will take the trouble to look below the surface will find without difficulty the common denominator between the profane and the ecclesiastical institution. (Attendance at motion pictures, I must quickly add for the benefit of the future historian, has not yet been made compulsory in the modern metropolis.) One-half of the temple is where the public gatherings take place; and the other is reserved for the distribution of the sacraments and for music. “At the same time, the sacred comedies, by which they set so much store, and are entertained every three months, are shown in the temple.” 8