"MARRIAGE without obstacles isn't tempting . . ." wrote the playwright. And now marriage with all its obstacles is even less tempting. Count Keyserling, in his symposium, The Book of Marriage, raises no new cry, stampedes no staid world, but comes instead to a world in chaos, and to a subject of the greatest controversial significance, bringing with him the judgment of "twenty four leaders of contemporary thought."

Something must be done about it. This is the agreement of judges and priests, of femimists and supporters of the double standard. And there agreement ends. To this breach comes Keyserling, bringing with him The Correct Statement of the Marriage Problem. In his role of philosopher-guide he unfolds four principles upon which the marriage of the future must be based if success is to be assured. There are in these four principles no loopholes for the individualist; the development of self for which we raise our modern hue and cry gets short shift beside the more universal principles of Keyserling's philosophy. As he agrees at the outset "the fundamental problems of life cannot be settled according to a schedule, because they are both in reality and intrinsically individual problemss; on every occasion when they arise the individual character of each affords the only starting-point for its solution, and consequently in every single case the solution must be unique also." But, "to infer from these facts that the statement and solution of the problems in question is a matter of subjective arbitrariness is to fall into a gross misunderstanding: the unique nature of the concrete situation is the manifestation of universal significance which is inherent in the problem as such and independent of its particular expression."

It is to a review of the Universal significance of marriage that the book devotes itself. The philosopher with great care, and singular aptitude points the search for this univalve significance. His statement of the existing situation, and the universal rules for its solution is always capable, and frequently masterly, though even his genius could And always is there the haunting sha-