Chapter X (3)

In 1742, Celsius, a Swede, proposed zero for the freezing-point, and 100 degrees for the boiling-point, all temperatures below freezing being distinguished by the negative sign (-). This scale is known as the Centigrade. It is in use in France, Sweden, and in the south of Europe; it has the advantage of decimal notation, with the disadvantage of the negative sign.

Reaumur's scale is in use in Spain, Switzerland, and Germany. It differs from the Centigrade in this, that the freezing and boiling points are separated by 80 degrees instead of 100 degrees.

It would not be difficult to construct a scale which should combine all the advantages of Fahrenheit's and of the Centigrade. Freezing-point should be fixed at 100 degrees; and boiling-point should be fixed at as many hundred divisions or degrees above 100 degrees as might be agreed on by practical men as most convenient. The advantages of decimal notation would thus remain as in the Centigrade scale, and the minus sign would be got rid of.

And now, having applied the scale, and having exercised every precaution, can we congratulate ourselves on possessing a perfect instrument? Disheartening as it may appear, the standard instrument of to-day may not be accurate to-morrow. It is more than probable that the freezing point will become displaced. This curious phenomenon has never been satisfactorily explained. Messrs. Negretti & Zambra, in their treatise on Meteorological Instruments, (a work which abounds with information of a most interesting nature,) say, in reference to displacement of the freezing point, that "either the prolonged effect of the atmospheric pressure upon the thin glass of the bulbs of thermometers, or the gradual restoration of the equilibrium of the particles of the glass after having been greatly disturbed by the operation of boiling the mercury, seems to be the cause of the freezing-points of standard thermometers reading from a few tenths to a degree higher in the course of some years." To obviate this small error, it is the practice of the makers in question "to place the tubes aside for about six months before fixing the freezing-point, in order to give time for the glass to regain its former state of aggregation. The making of accurate thermometers is a task attended with many difficulties, the principal one being the liability of the zero or freezing-point varying constantly; so much so, that a thermometer that is perfectly correct to-day, if immersed in boiling-water, will be no longer accurate; at least, it will take some time before it again settles into its normal state. Then, again, if a thermometer is recently blown, filled, and graduated immediately, or, at least, before some months have elapsed, though every care may have been taken with the production of the instrument, it will require some correction; so that the instrument, however carefully made, should from time to time be plunged into finely-pounded ice, in order to verify the freezing-point."

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From The Month.

The Tuscan Peasants And The Maremna.

The Maremna is, in summer, the word that drives the sleep from many an Italian woman's pillow as she thinks of the perils that her husband, her brother, or her betrothed is encountering as he reaps the fertile harvest, and gains, at the risk of his life, the wages that will enable him and his to live through the winter. "A me mi pare una Maremna amara" is the burden of the song with which many a child is rocked to sleep. And with reason. The Maremna is the Littorale or shores of the Tuscan Sea; and there the coasts that bound the blue waters of the Mediterranean are lined by tangled jungles and pestilential marshes, whence at each sunset arises the baleful fever, which, passing in scorn over the ruined cities that its pernicious breath has depopulated, creeps along like the sleuth-hound until it finds the hardy mountaineer returning from his day of labor, and smites him with the wasting blight which saps his strength. {711} Yet year after year do the sons of Italy descend with unwearied energy to these valleys and deadly plains, to reap the crops that have grown uncared for but luxuriantly, death and disease stalking behind them, and the fear of falling victims to the power of the evil air urging them to increased exertions, in order that they may earlier return and share their scanty gains with their wives and children. They march gayly, too, often singing alternately in their rough monotone the songs they have composed themselves, cheerful in the consciousness that they are fulfilling a duty; and this although knowing that they have to fight a foe against whom neither courage nor energy nor strength can avail, but whose damp breath appears to draw the marrow from their bones and fill them with fever; sometimes sending them weak and emaciated, useless as workmen, to their native homes; sometimes in a few hours laying their bodies low, to lie, far from family and friends, in unconsecrated ground.

When the Italian peasants speak of the Maremna, they mean that district of Italy which runs along the shores of the Mediterranean from Monte Nebo and the mountains south of Leghorn over the flat marshes of the Tuscan shores, and the desolate promontory of Monte Cervino, as far as the sunny shores of Sorento and Amalfi. To the south of the Tuscan frontier the (to English ears) more familiar name of Campagna is applied to the whole of that portion of the Maremna which lies within the ancient Agro Romano; still further to the south the word Maremna becomes identical with what are called the Pontine Marshes. The mountaineers of Modena, Parma, and Tuscany call the country which they periodically visit, whether south or north, Maremna: the inhabitants frequently give it a local name. Undefined as are its boundaries, and almost unknown to geography as is its name, its characteristics are much the same throughout; everywhere we meet the same wide plains, tangled jungles, ruined cities, wooded hills, ever-recurring swamps and morasses; throughout the whole district the same terrible ague, the same desolating fever, the fatal influence of the malaria, rage with destructive effect. Although often characterized as a swamp or a marsh, yet the Maremna by no means consists of plains like the fens; on the contrary, there are several high mountains, which run down even into the sea: the land near the coast is, however, in general flat.

Part of the Maremna is cultivated, and produces grain; the greater portion, however, is kept for pasture. As soon as the herbage begins to fail on the mountains of Tuscany, the peasants drive their flocks down to the pastures of the Maremna. There they remain six or seven months. The women and children are left at home, and the men and boys during this time bear all the privations, hardships, and dangers. An Italian poet exclaims: "Alas, how often do they return home bowed down by fever! how often do they never return! for, where they sought to earn the sustenance of their families, they meet with death." While some descend with their flocks and act as shepherds, the majority are there for the purpose of cutting wood, making charcoal and potash; their last work is to reap the hay and corn, and then those who are left alive return. Part of their wages has already been sent home; the remainder they bring with them.

Halfway between Leghorn and Pisa stands the old church of St. Pier d'Arena. It is very large, and built as nearly as possible to resemble the form of a ship. In old days the sea reached this point, and the name 'Arena' points to the strand on which the church was built. Tradition states it was here St. Peter landed on his visit to Italy, and the church was built to commemorate the event.

{712}

One October, now many years ago, after a visit to this church, I met a troop of shepherds and their flocks on their march to the Maremna. The procession must have covered half a mile of ground. Never yet have I looked on a troop of these sunburnt children of the south as they were wending their way to a land whence all would not return, without saluting them even as I would a forlorn hope advancing to attack the breach of a fortress. Soldiers of duty, "Morituros vos saluto." And higher is the courage and deeper is the love that impels these brave men, singing as they go, to encounter the fever and thirst and pestilential air of the Maremna, than that which animates many even of those soldiers who fight for God and king and fatherland.

Tears rose to the eyes of my companion as they passed. The flocks and herds marched first, all "ruddled," that is, marked with red, to show to whom they belonged. The procession was headed by the bell-wethers, with their curved horns; in close attendance upon them are tall, handsome, woolly-haired sheep-dogs, of a larger breed than ours, and with their necks defended by a collar studded with nails, the projecting points of which often turn the scale in the case of an encounter with the wolves. Nor are these the only robbers against which these vigilant watchers defend the sheep: if a human beast of prey, in shape of a thief, lies lurking in the ditches that border the roadside, watching an opportunity for seizing a lamb, they detect him and compel him to show himself. At night, too, they march round the nets that enclose the little encampment, and give the weary guardians time to sleep. Before they go to sleep, the peasants light a fire, and make cheese and ricotti, (a sort of Devonshire cream,) with which they repay the owner of the soil for leave to encamp on his grounds. As the milk is far more plentiful on their return in May, a spirit of natural, even-handed justice makes them generally contrive, both going and returning, to halt at the same stations. A necessary member of this company is the poet, or scribe, (_scrivano_.) To him is entrusted the task of composing, or else writing down and correcting, the "Respects" which each Tuscan shepherd is bound to send to his sweetheart. Collections of these rustic poems have lately been made and published. They are full of pathos and tenderness; the heart of the young exile yearns not only for his _dama_, (sweetheart,) but for the beauties of the country he has left behind him. Not his the harp to sing of festive banquets or goblets crowned with flowers; he loves the streams of fresh water, the flowering grass, the cultivated terraces, the pure air of his mountain home. Nature herself, and sorrow, the nurses of beauty, have breathed on him a spirit of truth and poetry as distinct from the sickly sentimentality and vice so often found in modern verse, as is the wild rider of the Arabian desert from the puny jockey who wins our handicaps. Strange, indeed, it would be if these poems, written in danger, absence, and exile, possessed not a fragrance all their own--one, however, that seems to escape not only in the most literal translation, but even when, under a slightly different form, they appear in the works of their more highly educated countrymen.

Independently of the troops that march almost patriarchally with their flocks and herds, like Abraham and Jacob, peasants often go down in gangs of five or six to look for work; sometimes, though rarely, necessity compels them to take with them their wives, and, if grown up, their children. In this case they almost invariably travel in one of the long, narrow, covered cars of the country. The men trudge along in groups of five or six, with their best clothes in a bundle slung to a stick, and, if by any possible contrivance it can be managed, with a gun upon their shoulder; for game of all kinds, roe, deer, wild boars, porcupines, woodcock, and snipe abound. {713} I once saw these groups arriving, one after another, at a seaport town near the Gulf of Genoa, until they reached the number of 500 or 600: these all sailed in a steamer to Corsica, to till the rich ground of that island. In a fortnight the steamer returned, and freighted itself with an equally large cargo of laborers. Many go to Sardinia, a still more unhealthy island: their chief occupation there is mostly to fell the forests which have been bought by speculators. Some find work at the Grand Ducal Ironworks at Follonica, and at the mines in the interior of the island of Elba; others help to till the Maremna, the soil of which is so fertile that, if it lies one year fallow, it requires but to have the seed thrown broadcast over it in order to yield every alternate year, and without further tillage, a most magnificent crop. Others help to clear away the forest and the thicket, and prepare the ground for future years, and thus aid in the great works for reclaiming this land of jungle and fever that have been now carried on for so many years; others simply to make charcoal or potash, and to live by selling game at the neighboring towns. To sing the songs of their native villages is their chief pleasure. In the daytime one man will begin to sing at his work, and then another catches the refrain, and begins in turn. At night, too, round the fire, (which is said to scare away the fever,) they sing songs and tell their old stories, and repeat their legends of saints and miracles. Thus it happens that they return to their native villages, speaking the pure Tuscan language undefiled by the patois of Corsica or the miserable jargon of the other islands.

The fever often attacks them, and they have to return home with their work half done; often a father will have to send back his son, fearful that he may die on the road, but conscious that, though he seems hardly able to crawl, the lad's only chance of safety lies in his reaching the pure air of the mountains before it is too late.

If all goes well, they arrive at home by the 24th of June, the feast of St. John. As they near their native place, the more active and eager members of the different parties press on; and as soon as they are descried from the village, a group is formed to meet them and welcome them back; then, too, do the wives learn what their husbands have earned and whether they have had a good year.

We may fancy the inhabitants who have remained at home, assembling at the old tower that bars the entrance to the village, eagerly asking and hearing the news of the winter. "Old Giuseppe" has had a good year; Peppe da Cacciono has had a touch of the maremna, but he got better; Renzo of Cognocco's dead, died of "la perniciosa." "Poor fellow! God rest his soul!" is the reply. "He had a bad attack last year; we never thought to see him again." And then they will visit Renzo's family and condole with them.

Not only do they bring back news to their own, but to all the villages that they pass through. Before the eve of St. John you may often, as the Abbé Tigri says, "meet a group of five or six, burnt nearly black with the sun, in their worst dress, and wearied out by the long journey. _Ben tornati_, welcome back!" you cry. "Do you come from far? Poor fellows, how tired you seem!" "It is nothing now, sir," they say, "for we are going home; but it was a hard time this spring." And, with that smile of singular brightness which no poverty or suffering seems able to drive from their face, they pass by.

The maremna is more accessible now than when we last visited and travelled through it. The works that were originated and so sedulously carried on by the former government have been continued by the present, and have fertilized and rendered comparatively healthy large portions of the country which were formerly desolate and pestilential: a railroad has been made, which familiarizes many a modern traveller with the country under its present aspects, but tempts him to hurry by much that is interesting and would have rewarded a longer sojourn. {714} We may endeavor in some future number to describe the impression made upon us by this portion of Etruria, and to lead the reader

"By lordly Volaterra,
Where scowls the far-famed hold
Piled by the hands of giants
For god-like kings of old;
By sea-girt Populonia,
Whose sentinels descry
Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops
Fringing the southern sky.

"By the drear bank of Ufens,
Where flights of marsh-fowl play,
And buffaloes lie wallowing
Through the hot summer day;
By the gigantic watch-towers,
No work of earthly men,
Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook
The never-ending fen,
To the Laurentian jungle,
The wild-hog's reedy home."

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Miscellany.

_Pagan Irish Sepulchral Pillar-Stones_.--That standing stones were used during pagan times in Ireland as sepulchral monuments appears certain; for we find in the description of the royal cemetery of Brugh-na-Boinne, as given in the Dinnsenchus contained in the Book of Ballymote, fol. 190, translated and published by the late Dr. Petrie, in his treatise on the Round Towers of Ireland, the following: "The _pillar-stone_ of Buidi the son of Muiredh, where his head is interred." We also find quoted by the same eminent antiquary, from the Leabhar-na-h-hide, an account of the death of Fothadh in the battle of Ollarba, fought, according to the Four Masters, in A.D. 285, with a description of his grave, in which is recorded, "And there is a _pillar-stone_ at his carn; and an ogumis on the end of the _pillar-stone_ which is in the earth." The earliest sepulchral monuments mentioned in the Annals of the Four Masters are _carns_, (large heaps of stones,) and _murs_ or _tuiams_, (mounds of earth,) now more generally known by the name "barrow." However, that pillar-stones may even then have been in use appears probable; for in the opening paragraph of those Annals there is, "From Fintan is named Feart Fintain" (that is, Fintain's grave) "over Loch Deirgdheire." The place is still called by this name, and is situated on the northern slopes of the Arra mountains, overlooking Lough Derg, county Tipperary. There is a _pillar-stone_ at the grave, from which the hill is called Laghtea.--G. Henry Kinahan, _in Athenoeum_.

_The Monks' Model Farm in Algeria_.--The Mois Agricole contains an interesting account of the Trappist Model Farm at Cheragas, in Algeria. In 1843, Marshal Bugeaud granted the Trappists one thousand two hundred hectares of land, on which, two years afterward, three hundred thousand francs were expended by the order in buildings. The stock of animals on the farm is now magnificent. The Trappist cows each yield sixteen quarts of milk a day, in a country where the native cows do not yield more than goats; and the sheep and pigs are equally fine. A large quantity of honey is also produced at Cheragas. There are in the establishment one hundred and eight monks, of whom twenty-two belong to the choir, and ten are priests. Twenty lay workmen are constantly employed at the convent, and every poor or sick wayfarer is entitled to claim or receive aid or work there. When the emperor visited the establishment, he discovered, to his surprise that upward of a dozen of the monks had been soldiers of the imperial guard. They explained to him that, after the severe discipline and simple fare of the French army, the Trappist rule, ascetic as it is, did not appear harsh to them.

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{715}

Original.

New Publications.

The Monks Of The West, from St. Benedict to St. Bernard.
By the Count de Montalembert, Member of the French Academy.
Authorized translation. Vols. I., II., III. William Blackwood & Sons,
Edinburgh and London, 1861, 1867. For sale by the Catholic Publication
Society, 126 Nassau street, New York.

These volumes bring down the history of monasticism to the year 633. The third contains the history of monasticism in England, Ireland, and Scotland, embracing a very full account of St. Columba and the institute of Iona. It is very appropriately dedicated to the Earl of Demarara. The ill health of the author has delayed the completion of his great work. We understand, however, that two more volumes are published in France, and are now being translated into English. The writings of Montalembert belong to the highest class of French literature. The present work treats of a topic of the greatest importance and interest to all students and educated persons, but especially to all devout Catholics. English literature has resounded for three centuries with calumnies, denunciations, and senseless, ignorant ravings against monastic orders. Of late, we begin to hear a different story from the most enlightened portion of Protestant writers. These writers are, however, careful to qualify what they say in praise of the nunneries of former times by a somewhat wearisome and monotonous reiteration of the assurance that monastic institutions are worn out, obsolete, contrary to progress, and unfit for the present age. It is time, therefore, for the Catholic voice to make itself heard on the subject. The illustrious and noble author is a believing and devout Catholic as well as a learned historian and a most eloquent writer. His work is well translated, and published in a style suitable to its choice excellence. It should find a place in the library of every clergyman, every religious house, seminary, and college, and on the table of every educated Catholic layman. We would recommend it also to our Protestant friends, were we not aware that most of them are afraid or ashamed to buy a Catholic book. Those of them at least who pretend to agree with the church of the first six centuries ought not to be afraid of it, as it comes down no later than A.D. 633.

The Trinity

Control Your Passions

Heroism In The Sick-room

Is The Sacrifice Of The Mass Of Human Or Of Divine Institution?

Why Did God Become Man?

Being Tracts Nos. 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24 of the Catholic Publication
Society's Tracts. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 126 Nassau
street.

The Catholic Publication Society continues to issue its useful and instructive tracts. We give above the titles of those last published. Our readers will find them to be in every respect equal to the former ones. They will also be pleased to learn that the Society has obtained a House of Publication, established in a first-class locality, No. 126 Nassau street, New York, where all its publications can be had, together with all Catholic books and pamphlets published either in this country or in England and Ireland. The Society now everywhere meets with approval and encouragement. Rev. Father Hecker lately visited the cities of Pittsburg, Cincinnati, Wheeling, and Harrisburg, at which places he lectured in favor of the Society. The Rt. Rev. Bishops and Rev. clergy gave him the most cordial receptions, and very generous contributions were made for the object in Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and Wheeling. Upon his return he lectured also at St. Peter's church, Brooklyn, with the like success. Depots for the Society's publications are now established at Mr. Quigley's in Pittsburg, and at Benziger Bros. in Cincinnati, at which all that is issued by the Society can be procured for the same price as they are sold in New-York.

Father Hecker also intends visiting Europe this summer, to form relations with the publishing houses of Dublin, London, and Paris, and will accept the invitation proffered him to assist at the great Catholic Congress which is to meet at Malines next September.

{716}

Our readers are already aware, from the article on Catholic Congresses in our last number, how much has been done by the Belgian Congresses for the diffusion of cheap Catholic literature. We trust Father Hecker may be able to derive much useful information from what he will see and hear at Malines, and turn it to good account for the furtherance of our own efforts in the same direction. We are much gratified to see that the project of a Catholic Congress suggested by our article has been warmly applauded on all sides. Several of our journals, among which we notice the _Freeman's Journal_, the _Boston Pilot_, the _New York Tablet_, and the _Catholic Standard_ of Philadelphia, have noticeable editorial articles on the subject in its favor. It is important, in case a congress should be convened in our own country, that some one should attend this one in Belgium, in order to obtain a knowledge of the plan and method of organizing and conducting these assemblies.

The First Age of Christianity and the Church.
By John Ignatius Döllinger, D.D.,
Professor of Ecclesiastical History
in the University of Munich, etc.
Translated by H. N. Oxenham, M.A. Oxford.
London: Allen & Co., 1860.
2 vols. 12mo. New York: The Catholic
Publication Society.

These two volumes are worthy of the perusal of every scholar. They form the introductory portion of Döllinger's great work on Ecclesiastical History, now in course of preparation, and are replete with the results of his vast learning. At the same time, the reader of ordinary intelligence and education need not be afraid of them. They are not dry or pedantic, but written in a style of natural simplicity and freshness which makes them attractive and entertaining as well as instructive. The translation, by an excellent scholar and good writer, is extremely well done, and the mechanical execution is in the best London style. Even the Dublin Review has condescended to praise this work, and therefore those who might suspect that it contains any peculiar opinions of what is called the 'Germanizing' school need not fear anything on that score. Dr. Döllinger is a sound, orthodox divine, and sincerely loyal to the holy see. The Roman theologians have controverted some of his opinions very strongly, but they have never called in question his orthodoxy, and we have good reason to believe that the Holy Father regards him with esteem and paternal affection as a true son of the church, who is doing her good service. The organs of that theological school in Germany which Dr. Döllinger is supposed to sympathize with the least always speak of him in the most respectful terms, even when criticising some of his statements very unsparingly. Some of our Catholic friends in England are not quite so charitable and moderate as the more thoroughly ripened theologians of Europe. They seem disposed to erect theological doctrines never defined or imposed by the authority of the holy see into a standard of orthodoxy, and to question the thorough loyalty of those who do not fully agree with themselves. Odious terms, such as the nickname of 'mini-misers,' invented by that very dogmatical publication the Dublin Review, are applied to them, and, in general, a quarrelsome kind of domestic polemics seems getting quite the vogue among a portion of the Catholic writers of England. We agree with F. Perrone, the great Roman theologian, that this is an evil much to be deprecated, and likely to do mischief. We do not sympathize with all that Dr. Döllinger has written, but we feel bound to condemn the disparaging tone in which some of the writers alluded to are wont to speak of him, and of others like him, who venture to make use of the liberty allowed by the church respecting questions not finally decided by authority. Happily, the present work is one about which there can be no difference of opinion. It is a thoroughly learned, and at the same time a readable and plain history of the first foundation of Christianity by Christ and his apostles; and we feel sure that it will contribute much to the edification of all who read it.

Poems. By Eliza Allen Starr. 12mo, pp.
224. Philadelphia: H. McGrath.

Miss Starr is already favorably known to the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD by various poetical contributions to our pages. She writes with remarkable grace and tenderness, with a very beautiful simplicity of style, and a religious elevation of thought which ought to make her volume welcome in every good Christian family. {717} The poetic impulse with her is neither a morbid yearning to sing imaginary woes, nor a mere fancy for the jingle of sweet words. Her verses express genuine and healthy feeling, and their tone is most melodious when her harp is strung to sacred themes. There is at times a mild tinge of melancholy in the book--a melancholy as of one who has suffered and struggled; but through it all shines the radiance of religious happiness, as though it were not all imaginary which the author sings in the character of "The Sacristan":

"Within thine altar's shade,
Lord, I my nest have made,
No more to roam:
Thine own abiding-place
Is mine for future space,
My rest, my home.

....

"The earth, the air, the sea
Rejoice to serve with me,
With me to wait;
For prostrate nature sighs
To see her Lord disguise
His heavenly state."

The little poem entitled "Espousals" is also full of real, unaffected piety:

"Haste to thy nuptials sweet
With glowing feet,
Thy inmost chamber fair,
O heart! prepare,
Therein, with joy, to bring
Thy spouse and king.

"I see his coming light
Disperse my night!
O radiant orb of day!
Thou may'st delay
To quench thy feeble rays
In heaven's own blaze.

"Lo! seraph tongues of flame
Announce that name
Whose echoed sweetness clings
Where'er it rings;
And thus informs with sound
Remotest bound.

"O happy ears! attend,
And lowlier bend!
I feel his noiseless pace
Through heaven's blue space;
The stars but strew his floor,
And thus adore.

"Celestial presence dear!
Thou Godhead near!
I yield my soul, my sense;
Omnipotence!
Behold, prepared, thy throne;
Oh! claim thine own!"

In a different strain, but very pretty and delicate, is the following "Song of Welcome":

"My lonely days grew lonelier,
The shadows spread apace,
When on me, like a morning sun,
Arose thy smiling face:
Sad tears, sad tears, my joyful cheeks,
Keep not of you a trace.

"The summer skies which o'er me bend
In beauty so benign
Are not so blue as the happy eyes
Now beaming into mine!
Heart's love, heart's love, what sun could cheer
If thine should cease to shine!"

We commend Miss Starr's little volume with all heartiness, and we rejoice that American Catholic literature has received so welcome an addition to its scanty poetical stores. We ought not to omit a word of compliment to the publisher for the liberal manner in which he has brought it out. The rich cream paper, the clear type, and the excellent binding are signs of a new era in the Catholic book manufacture at which we all must rejoice.

First Historical Transformations of Christianity.
From the French of Athanase Coquerel the Younger,
by E. P. Evans, Ph.D. 12mo. Boston: W. V. Spencer, 1867.

This is a very weak and flippant production from the pen of a French rationalistic Protestant, who imagines that he is a philosopher of history. He pretends to show us various forms which pure Christianity has been made to assume by the different apostles, doctors, or sects who in turn took upon themselves to be its expositors. Of course, as Monsieur Coquerel the Younger would think, they each and all made bad work of it, from St. Peter down to the last publishing medium of spiritism. It is truly deplorable that the pure Christianity which Monsieur Coquerel the Younger now sees in all its simplicity should have had the misfortune to be thus Judaized, Hellenized, Paulized, Peterized, Joannized, Romanized, and diversely _ized_ by the Fathers of the church and heretics; and may we not also add, Protestantized and Coquerelized?

{718}

Let us see what is the Christianity of Jesus according to Monsieur Coquerel's gospel: "In short, the whole instruction of Jesus can be included in the following formula: the work to be accomplished is the reign of God in all consciences; the universal motive through which this reign is to be established, the essential fact of this reign, is love, of which the twofold manifestation is pardon and new or eternal life; and these two manifestations presuppose two facts, whose certainty has no need of proof-- sin and immortality. Thus reducing all Christianity to a single formula, it may be said that Jesus revealed to all sinners the eternal compassion of the God of holiness, their Father." (P. 65.) This cant about pardon and the new life in the mouth of one who rejects the divinity of Jesus Christ, who is unwilling to impose the belief in his miracles upon any sincere Christian, (_sic_,) and who thinks the doctrine of hell is rank nonsense, would need explanation, did we not gather from a previous sentence that Monsieur Coquerel the Younger is as shallow a theologian as he is a philosopher. Speaking of our Lord, he says: "He has such an absolute certainty of the power of God, and of the efficacy of the good and the true; such a full confidence in the perfectibility of guilty man; such a high esteem for human nature, _wholly sinful_ as it is, that, in his eyes, the elevation, the healing, the salvation, the enfranchisement of every soul that is willing to return to God and love him are not an object of the slightest doubt." (P. 64.) Beside this we place one other quotation, which we think will suffice: "Liberal Protestants are constantly asked where they would fix the boundary which separates Christians from those who are not Christians. _Each man has the right to solve this formidable problem in the light of his own conscience!_" (P. 75.) And this man pretends to lecture the world for transforming Christianity to suit its own notions! We would advise Monsieur Coquerel the Younger to review his logic.

Critical And Social Essays,
reprinted from the New York Nation.
12mo, pp. 230. New York: Leypoldt & Holt.

It is a good deal to say of a newspaper nowadays that it is possible to collect from its columns in the course of two years a whole volume of essays passably well worth preserving. And many of the essays in this neat little book are much better than passable. Of course one does not look for deep philosophy or strikingly original thought in the ephemeral papers dashed off for a week's entertainment, and sent flying over the country on the wings of the periodical press. It is enough if the subject be attractive, the argument mainly just, the style fluent, and now and then striking. The essays from _The Nation_ generally fulfil these conditions, and afford very agreeable recreation for odd intervals of leisure. The cold and almost cynical spirit of criticism, and the utter lack of enthusiasm and sympathy, which have done so much to deprive _The Nation_ of that influence in public affairs to which its literary merit entitles it, appear in a more favorable light in the pages of a book than in the columns of a periodical. Book-readers have time to appreciate graces of style, and to roll sweet morsels of thought and phrase under their tongues; but the journalist in America must deal with a different public, and must serve them with coarser materials. His weapon must be not the scalpel or the lancet, but the axe and the bludgeon.

Fathers And Sons. A Novel.
By Ivan Sergheievitch Turgenef.
Translated from the Russian, with the approval
of the author, by Eugene Schuyler, Ph. D.
12mo, pp. 248. New-York: Leypoldt & Holt.

The object of this novel is to contrast the generation which is just passing away in Russia with the generation that is taking its place--the old lords of the soil, still half-bewildered by the inroads of civilization upon their semi-savage life, and the young party of progress, intoxicated with the new ideas of emancipation, the new learning, the new habits, and the new morality which is fast breaking up the old Tartar feudalism. We can well believe the translator's assertion that a tempest was raised by the appearance of the book in Russia. The portraits are flattering to neither generation, and they are so life-like that it is impossible to doubt they are substantially accurate representations of both. As a work of fiction, Fathers and Sons is particularly interesting to us. Artistically speaking, it is a very good novel indeed, and it is moreover almost the first glimpse we have had of the fictitious literature of a country toward which Americans are, whether rightly or wrongly, especially attracted. It gives us a better view of daily life in Russia than any book of travel or observation with which we are acquainted--better not only because clearer, but also because it is of necessity perfectly undistorted. {719} But the picture is painful enough. For most of the characters in the story the author evidently has no love; but even the best of them are singularly unamiable. And we close the volume with the reflection that, if there is no better life in Russia than the life he paints; if the men and women whom he brings before us are fair types of the average culture and virtue of the empire; if the fathers have no intelligence, and the sons neither human affection nor religion, the future of Russia must be far different from what modern writers are fond of predicting. The morality of the story is bad, but its badness is so transparent that it can hurt nobody. There is an offensive tinge of sensualism in it, too, and this is less apparent, and therefore more dangerous.

Barbarossa: A Historical Novel of the Seventh Century.
By Conrad Von Bolanden.
1 vol. 12mo, pp. 486. Philadelphia: Eugene Cuminiskey. 1867.

The historical novel is a difficult one to write. To strictly follow the bare facts of history will make the work dull to most readers of light literature; and to allow the imagination full play in working out its scenes and representing them as if they had been actual occurrences will offend the student of history. The middle ages, however, are full of matter for the historical novelist. We have too few gleaners in this prolific field. We can remember only one attempt of the kind in the English language within the last decade of years. William Bernard McCabe, in his "Bertha," has done good service toward making known, in a popular manner, the designs of the Emperor Frederick to become universal emperor, or _Pontifex Maximus_, as he hoped to be one day called.

The present work is a translation from the German, and describes the political workings of Frederick's ambition; his conquests in Italy, and the capture of Rome; his attempt to set up and install in that city his tool, the antipope Pascal, in opposition to the lawful successor of St. Peter, Alexander III.; all these events are well told. The interest of the story is kept up by introducing two lovers--a knight, the follower of Frederick, and an Italian lady, who, of course, marry at the conclusion of the tale. The character of Frederick's prime minister, Dassel, is well portrayed, and shows that, with all the emperor's strength of mind, he was, after all, only the puppet of his wily minister.

A little more elegance might have been observed by the translator, especially in the first part of the story, where carelessness and incorrectness of expression occur several times. For instance, we are told in one sentence that "Suddenly Otho of Wittelsbach advanced hurriedly," which sounds too much after the fashion of a _Ledger_ story. Again, news is brought to Frederick of the surrender of Cinola to the Milanese, when the following dialogue occurs: "What is the strength of the Milanese?" "About three hundred men." "Have they burned the castle?" "_I am ignorant of that fact, sire._"

But these are, after all, but slight defects, and do not mar the beauty of the tale. We can heartily recommend the work to the readers of light literature, as both instructive and entertaining, two things which are not always combined in the historical novel.

Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia for 1866.

This volume is an improvement on the preceding one, in one respect at least, that is, in the summary which it gives of the progress of the physical sciences. It contains, as usual, a condensed history of the year, and is ornamented with fine, spirited engravings of three very notorious public characters: the King of Prussia, Bismarck, and Girabaldi. It is well worthy of a place in every library, and is, in fact, almost indispensable as a book of reference.

Notes On Doctrinal And Spiritual Subjects.
By the late Frederick W. Faber, D.D., of the Oratory.
Vol. II. London: Richardson & Son. New York:
The Catholic Publication Society.

With the character of Father Faber's writings most of our readers are well acquainted, and we have already given a special notice of them in a review of the first volume of this work. The present volume contains a large number of his hitherto unpublished writings, among which are sketches of discourses upon the notes of the church, treatises upon the sacrament, controversial lectures spiritual conferences, and various miscellaneous papers. {720} They are of especial value to the younger members of our clergy, to whom we commend them as furnishing ample matter for sermons, instructions, and lectures.

The Man With the Broken Ear.
Translated from the French of Edmond About,
by Henry Holt. 12mo, pp. 254. New York: Leypoldt & Holt.

The ingenuity and wit of this story cannot make amends for its grossness. The novels of M. About's previously rendered into English were enough to show that he cared nothing for the good opinion of Catholics, and in this grotesque tale he has equally shown his disregard for the tastes of refined people of every creed. Still, it is fair to say in his praise that the contrasts of character which form the chief feature of the book are admirably managed, and the dialogue sparkles with vivacity. Mr. Holt, who is both publisher and translator, has acquitted himself in his double function with noteworthy credit.

Cummiskey's Juvenile Library: Florie's Series.
12 vols. 16mo. Translated from the French.
E. Cummiskey, Publisher, 1037 Chestnut street, Philadelphia.

This is a very interesting series of children's stories. They are well translated and published in good style.

Stories On The Commandments

Caroline; Or, Self Conquest

The Seven Corporal Works Of Mercy and Matie's Troubles.

P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia.

Those three volumes are an addition to this publisher's well-selected list of tales for the young. Although they are published in the same style as The Young Catholic Library, the stock and workmanship is much inferior.

Books for children's use should be published in a more durable form.

Beauties Of Faith; Or, Power Of Mary's Patronage.
Leaves from the Ave Maria. P. O'Shea, New York.

The first part of this volume is taken up with short stories illustrative of the power of Mary's patronage. The second part contains the beautiful story of Cobina, by Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. Altogether it forms a volume of very interesting matter.

Coaina, The Rose Of The Algonquins.
By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. P. O'Shea, New York.

Since writing the above, the story of Coaina comes on our table in another shape from the same publisher. This is a charming Indian tale. We cannot see the wisdom of using it to swell the bulk of the volume of selections mentioned above, after having issued it as a separate volume. If those who have facilities for publishing would give us translations or reprints of the many excellent books of this kind published in France, Germany, and England, they would do us greater service.

Manual of the Lives of the Popes, Etc.
By J. C. Earle. Reprinted from the
English Edition. Baltimore: Murphy & Co.

This neatly printed little book is useful as a catalogue of the popes, and a record of some of the principal facts in their reigns. It has no critical value in regard to disputed or doubtful questions, and pretends to none.

Books Received.

From P. O'Shea, New York. The Science of Happiness; or, Beatitudes in Practice. By Madame Bourdon. 1 vol. 16mo. Price, $1.

From D. Appleton & Co., New York. Appleton's Hand-Book of American Travel. By E. Hall. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 283.

From Leypoldt & Holt, New York. Co-operative Stores; their History, Organization, and Management. Based on the recent German work of Eugene Kichter. pp. 131. Price, 50 cents.

From P. O'Shea, New York. Rosa Immaculata; or, The Tower of Ivory, or the House of Anna and Joachim. By Mary Josephine. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 250. Price, $2.

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{721}

The Catholic World

Vol. V., NO. 29. September, 1867.

"Rome or Reason." [Footnote 247]

[Footnote 247: The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century.
By Francis Parkman. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1867. 8vo, pp. 468.

The Professor at the Breakfast-Table; with the Story of Iris. By Oliver
Wendell Holmes. Boston; Ticknor & Fields. 1866. 12mo, pp. 410.

Rationalism and Catholicism. Inquirer, Cincinnati, May 26, 1867.]

Mr. Parkman understands and describes very well the Indian character--a very simple character, and within the range of his comprehension. There is nothing deep or impenetrable in the Indian, and his ideas, habits, and customs are invariable. He is a child in simplicity, but he is cunning, fierce, treacherous, ferocious, more of a wild beast than a man--a true savage, nothing more, nothing less. Mr. Parkman has lived with him, studied his character and ways, and may, as to him, be trusted as a competent and faithful guide, save when there is a question of superstition, in which the Indian abounds, or of religion, which he accepts with more docility and ease than many learned and scientific white men.

Mr. Parkman may also be trusted for the purely material facts of the Jesuit missions among the Indians in the seventeenth century, and he narrates them in a style of much artistic grace and beauty; but of the motives which governed the missionaries, of their faith and charity, as well as of their whole interior spiritual life, he understands less than did the "untutored Indian." His judgments, reflections, or speculations on the spiritual questions involved are singularly crude, marked by a gross ignorance not at all creditable to a son of "The Hub." He claims to be enlightened, to be a man of progress, and he has indeed advanced as far as Sadduceeism, which believes in neither angel nor spirit; but the savage retains more of the elements of Christian faith than he appears to have attained to. He is struck, as every one must be, by the self-denial, the disinterestedness, the patient toil, the unwearying kindness, superiority to danger or death, and heroic self-sacrifices and martyrdom of the missionaries; but he sees in them only the workings of a false faith, superstitious missions, and a fanatic zeal. The Jesuit who left behind all the delights and riches of civilization, gave up all that men of the world hold most dear, braved all the dangers of the forest, of the savage, performed fatiguing journeys, underwent the inclemencies of the climate and the seasons, suffered hunger and thirst, in want of all things, submitted to captivity, tortures, mutilations, and death, was, in his judgment, a poor, deluded man; his faith, which bore him up or bore him onward, was an illusion, and his charity, which never failed or grew cold, was only an honest but mistaken zeal! Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles?

{722}

It cannot be said that Mr. Parkman has overrated the marvellous labors and sacrifices of the Jesuits for the conversion of the North American Indians; but he is mistaken in supposing that they stand out as anything singular or extraordinary in the general history of Catholic missions. They did well; they were brave, indefatigable, self-denying, heroic, and cold must be the heart that can read their story without emotion; but their high qualities and virtues are due to their general character as Catholics, not to their special character as Jesuits. Non-Catholic writers are very apt to consider that Jesuits are a peculiar sect, in some way distinguishable from the Catholic Church, and that their merits belong to them not as Catholic priests and missionaries, but as Jesuits. What Mr. Parkman admires in them is really admirable; but its glory is due to Catholic faith and charity, which the Jesuit has in common with all Catholics, and he has toiled no harder, braved no more dangers, suffered no greater hardships, or a more cruel and horrid death, or met them with a spirit no more heroic than have other Catholic missionaries among heretics and infidels, from the apostles down to the last martyr in China, Anam, or Oceanica. It has been only by such suffering and such deeds as Mr. Parkman narrates, that the world has been converted to the Christian faith and retained in the Catholic Church. At all times, since the descent of the Holy Ghost on the day of Pentecost, has the Catholic Church nursed in her bosom, and sent into the world to preach Christ and him crucified, men not at all inferior in faith and love, in patient endurance, and heroic self sacrifice to the Jesuit missionaries among the North American Indians. She has never wanted laborers, confessors, martyrs; and a religion that never fails to create and inspire them is not, and cannot be, a false religion, a delusion, a fanaticism. It is only in the Catholic Church you find or have ever found them. Let her have the credit of them.

The Professor at the Breakfast Table has been for some time before the public, and every body has read it. Its author has, we believe, a high reputation in the medical profession, and certainly has attained to distinction as a poet and as a writer of prose fiction. He has wit and pathos, a lively imagination, and a keen sense of the ludicrous. The snake portion of his Elsie Vonner is horrible, but several of the characters in that remarkable book are admirably drawn--are real New England characters, drawn as none but a New Englander could draw them, and perhaps, none but a New Englander can fully appreciate. He is like many of the descendants of the old Puritans, who, having lost all faith in the Calvinism of their ancestors, still identify it with Christianity, and float in their feelings between the memory of it and a vague rationalism and sentimentalism which is simply no belief at all. He would like to be a Christian, to feel that he has faith, something on which he can rest his whole weight without fear of its giving way under him, but he knows not where to look for it. He finds many attractions in the Catholic Church, but, thinking that she holds what so offends him in the faith of his ancestors, he dares not trust her.

There is a large class of educated, thinking, and even serious-minded Americans who turn away from the church and refuse to consider her claims, not because she differs from the Protestantism in which they have been reared, but because she does not, in her spirit and teaching, differ enough from it. Those outside of the church, and who credit not the evangelical cant against her, identify her teaching with Jansenism, regard Jansenists as the better class of Catholics, and Jansenism is a form of Calvinism, and Calvinism is a system of pure supernaturalism, while the active American mind cannot consent that nature should count in the religious life for nothing. {723} It would, perhaps, relieve them a little if they knew that not only the Jesuits condemned Jansenism, but the church herself condemns it, and Jansenists are as much out of the pale of the church as are Calvinists or Lutherans themselves. So-called orthodox Protestants were formerly in the habit of charging Catholics with rationalism and Pelagianism, and even now accuse them of denying the doctrines of grace or salvation through the merits and grace of Jesus Christ. This fact alone should suffice to teach such men as the Professor at the Breakfast-Table that the difference between Catholicity and Puritanism is much greater than they suppose.