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tory and the Brooklyn Museum each opened a major exhibit in the spring of 1983 in recognition of the centennial of the Brooklyn Bridge.' While both exhibits featured John Roebling's final and grandest suspension bridge, their orientation, organization, and content were so divergent that anyone having the opportunity to see both found little duplication. One exhibit emphasized the technological significance of the bridge; the other also addressed this but concentrated on its artistic and symbolic values. Because the Brooklyn Museum is primarily concerned with works of art, it is not surprising that almost half the artifacts in its Brooklyn Bridge exhibit were paintings, drawings, sculptures, or photographs produced in response to the bridge as an aesthetic object. Assembled under the direction of Michael Botwinick and Linda Ferber, these artistic statements spanned the period from the late 19th century through the early 1980s, and their treatment of the structure ranged from the starkly realistic to the intensely abstract. Viewers may have been numbed by the repetitive themes that were evoked, but everyone should have found at least a few images to stir his or her imagination. Some of the art related the bridge to concepts of "manifest destiny" and the promise of technological progress, but most responded to the structure in a purely aesthetic context. Several paintings by Joseph Stella were especially moving. To an observer with only casual knowledge of the New York art world, the works on display appeared to range widely in terms of both scope and medium. But anyone who appreciates contemporary conceptual art, video art, and similar avantgarde pursuits probably found the exhibit rather staid.

CONTRARY to beliefs which prevail in some quarters, occidental sinology of good quality has been and continues to be the result of the recognition and the application of the fruits of centuries of Chinese native scholarship. This does not mean that the occidental is bound to accept as the gospel truth any and every statement made by any Chinese in regard to any problem. In using Chinese books, and in seeking Chinese advice, we must exercise the same discretion that is shown towards our fellow-citizens of the West. In addition to the problems presented by his subject itself, the occidental sinologist is troubled and annoyed by a multitude of nasty little snags which, on the large, if left unsolved, do not alter materially any fundamental truth which he may have succeeded in establishing, but which, if successfully solved, will add to the beauty and finesse of his demonstration.2 One that I would like to discuss is that of the transliteration of Chinese Buddhist names. Accord now seems to be established (entirely in harmony with and in natural imitation of the Chinese' own habits) that names like K'ung Ying-ta and Ssui-ma Ch'ien are to be written in the way here employed: i. e., K'ung and Ssui-ma, the surname or family name, form indivisible units, and, when composed of two syllables, are to be joined by a hyphen, the capital letter being used only for the first syllable. The same reasoning also applies to the personal name, as well as to the tzii or hao. It is only on the rarest occasions that these compound names, whether surname or personal name, are separated.3 The writer has, in fact,

Between the 1670s and 1680s, the French King Louis XIV's evolving vision for the fountains of the Versailles gardens challenged the knowledge and abilities of his hydraulic engineers. The supplying of water to Versailles and achieving the desired effects with water jets posed major problems. Since solving them required an understanding of hydrostatics and the principles of natural motion, the work was well-suited to the expert members of the Académie des Sciences. Indeed, some members had been working on the motion and properties of water in connection with theories of mechanics and simple machines since the Académie's beginnings in 1666. This article focuses on the related work of these academicians, especially Claude Perrault, Christiaan Huygens, and Edmé Mariotte. It discusses how they saw a challenge such as the Versailles fountains as an opportunity to produce practical knowledge driven by natural philosophical principles.