Chapter XI: The Mountains Whence Help Cometh (8)

St. Thomas with his eagle glance saw, centuries before, the birth of optimism, and refuted it triumphantly, in the following argument, similar to that which we have just given. Asking the question, whether the divine intellect is limited to certain determinate effects, he denies it thus: "We have proved," he says, "the infinity of the divine essence. Now, however you may multiply the number of finite beings, they can never approximate the infinite, the latter surpassing any number of finite beings, even if it be supposed infinite. On the other hand, it is clear that, besides God, no being is infinite, because every being comes under some category of genus or species. Therefore, no matter of what quality the divine effects are supposed to be, or what quantity of perfections they may contain, it is in the nature of the divine essence infinitely to excel them, and hence the possibility of an indefinite number of them. Consequently, the divine intellect cannot be limited to this or that effect."

This argument might be abridged thus: The nature of the infinite and of the finite being immutable, the infinite must always surpass, infinitely, the finite. Hence there can be no definite term assigned to the perfection of the finite, and consequently there cannot be a cosmos ultimate and absolute in perfection. Our reason, therefore, does not support the optimists in supposing a most perfect cosmos; on the contrary, it shows that, as to essence and nature, there cannot be a cosmos the perfection of which can be supposed to be ultimate, and in a certain manner absolute; in other words, limiting the question to the creative moment which effects ontological perfection only, a best possible cosmos cannot be had. Moreover, if there be a way by which to raise the cosmos to a certain ultimate and absolute perfection, reason can tell us also that it must be altogether supernatural, and to it superintelligible. In other words, this way must be a moment or moments of the action of God, distinct from the creative moment, and causing effects above and beyond the nature and essential attributes of every possible cosmos, ontologically considered.

For if this way of raising the cosmos to an ultimate perfection were the same moment of the action of God which creates essences and proper attributes, it could not correspond to the effect desired--that of raising the cosmos to a certain absolute perfection. Because, when we speak of a creative moment effecting essences and attributes, we consider the cosmos ontologically; and ontologically the cosmos cannot have an absolute and ultimate perfection. The creative moment creates substances and essential attributes; hence if the moment of raising the cosmos to an ultimate perfection were identified with the creative moment, it would always effect substances and essential attributes--that is, a cosmos indefinitely progressive--and could not give us a cosmos absolute in perfection. Therefore the moment or moments of the action of God raising the cosmos to a certain absolute perfection must be distinct from the creative moment, and must produce effects above and beyond every possible cosmos, ontologically considered.

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Now, that which implies a moment of the action of God, distinct from the creative moment and causing effects above and beyond every possible cosmos, is called supernatural, because beyond and above nature or essence. Therefore, the way of raising the cosmos to a certain absolute perfection must be supernatural in its cause and in its effects.

If supernatural in its cause and in its effects, it is evident that this way is superintelligible to reason. Because reason, being an effect of the creative moment, cannot understand that which is above and beyond it in its cause and in its effects.

Hence, reason cannot determine whether there is such a way, or what this way is; and must necessarily leave these two questions to be determined by revelation.

Another problem, closely connected with the one which we have just discussed, presents itself here. It is as follows: In the supposition that God could find a way by which to raise the cosmos to a certain ultimate perfection, it is asked whether the divine goodness, which is the end of the exterior action of God, contains in itself a principle of fitness and agreeableness to incline it to effect this best possible cosmos. This question, as the reader is aware, is altogether different from optimism. This opinion contends that God _must_ create the best possible cosmos. The question we propose now asks whether divine goodness, which is the end of the external action of God, may be inclined to effect it in force of reason of fitness and agreeableness between divine goodness and the best possible production of it, a reason of fitness which implies no manner of obligation or necessity whatever.

We answer it affirmatively; it having the support of all Catholic tradition, and the proof of it is to be found in the very force of the terms--God is infinite goodness; in acting outside himself, he effects finite goodness. Now, finite goodness and infinite goodness are agreeable to each other; therefore, if there be a way of raising finite goodness to a certain absolute goodness, it will be most agreeable to infinite goodness. [Footnote 165]

[Footnote 165: S. Th. S. T. p. 3. q. I.]

Before we enter upon the explanation of the whole plan of the exterior works of God, it is necessary to notice another point altogether within the reach and province of reason; this is, to assign some general laws which must govern the exterior action of God.

Reason, as we have seen, cannot of itself tell whether there may be a way of exalting the cosmos to a certain ultimate perfection, and thus rendering it the best possible cosmos; again, reason cannot tell whether God has or has not chosen to effect it. But, admitting the supposition that there is such a way, and that God has preferred it, reason can assign some laws, which it conceives must necessarily govern his exterior action, if he chooses to effect the best possible cosmos. Nor is this going beyond the sphere or province of reason, or infringing upon the rights of revelation. Because, although the premises are superintelligible, and to be declared by revelation, yet the premises once given, reason may lawfully and safely deduce some consequences, evidently flowing from those premises. In this case, the premises would be superintelligible; the consequences springing from them altogether intelligible.

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Reason, therefore, affirms that if God chooses to make the best possible cosmos, the effectuation of such cosmos must be governed by the laws of _variety_, of _unity_, of _hierarchy_, of _continuity_, of _communion_, of _secondary agency_. The first imports that, if God intends to effect the best possible manifestations of himself, to which the best possible cosmos would correspond, he must effect a _variety_ of moments, a _variety_ of species, of individuals under each species, except when the nature and the object of the moment admits no variety or multiplicity. St. Thomas proves the necessity of such a law by the following argument: "Every agent," he says, "intends to stamp his own likeness on the effect he produces, as far as the nature of the effect will permit, and the more perfect the agent, the stronger is the likeness he impresses upon his effect."

God is a most perfect agent; it was fitting therefore that he should impress his own likeness on his exterior works as perfectly as their nature would allow. Now, a perfect likeness of God cannot be expressed by one moment or species of effects; because it is a principle of ontology that, when the effect is necessarily inferior in nature to the cause, as in the present case of the cosmos with regard to God, the perfections, which in the cause are united and, as it were, gathered together into one intense perfection, cannot be expressed in one effect, but ask for a variety and multiplicity of effects. The truth of this principle may be seen in the following example. What is the reason that we must frequently make use of a variety of words to express one idea? The reason lies in the objective and ontological difference of the nature of the two terms. The idea is simple, spiritual, intelligible; words are a material sound. The one in its nature is far superior to the other; the idea is possessed of more being, more perfection than words. Hence the one cannot be expressed and rendered by the other, except through a variety and multiplicity of terms. Consequently this example illustrates the principle that, when an effect is inferior in nature to its cause, whatever perfections are found in the cause, as united and simplified in one perfection, cannot be rendered or expressed except by a multiplicity and variety of effects. What we have said of language may be affirmed of every fine art, as painting, sculpture, music, etc. The type which creates them is always one and simple; it cannot be expressed except in a variety and multiplicity of forms.

The best manifestations, therefore, of God's transcendental excellence cannot be rendered and mirrored except through a variety of moments, of species, and of individuals.

The law of variety asks for the law of _hierarchy_. For variety cannot exist except by supposing a greater or less amount of perfection in the terms composing the series, one being varying from the other by possessing a greater amount of ontological perfections. Now, by admitting a greater or less amount of being, we admit a superiority on the part of that which is endowed with more ontological perfection, and an inferiority on the part of that which is endowed with less; and each being composing the cosmos, keeping its own place according to the general order, and in relation to other beings, it follows that this superiority on the part of one, and inferiority on the part of the other, founded on the intrinsic worth of their respective essences, establishes and explains the law of hierarchy.

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The third law is that of unity, which implies that the variety of the different moments composing the cosmos must be brought together so as to form a perfect whole. For, first, if the variety of moments, of species and individuals, is requisite in order to express the intensity of the ontological perfection and excellence of the type of the universe, which is the infinite grandeur of God, unity, also, is required, in order to express the simplicity and entirety of the type. In the second place, what would be the cosmos without unity but a numberless and confused assemblage of beings? Hence, whatever may be the variety of the moments and species of the cosmos, they must necessarily be brought together as parts and components of one harmonic whole. The nature of this unity will be gathered from the explanation of the other laws. And first, it begins to be sketched out by the law of continuity. This implies that there should be a certain proportion between each moment of the cosmos, between one species and another, and between the degrees and gradations within the species, all as far as the nature of the terms will permit. Hence, the law embraces two parts:

1st. The necessity of the greatest number of moments and of species, as much as possible alike to each other, without ever being confounded.

2d. The greatest possible number of gradations within the same species, in proportion as individuals partake more or less fully of the species.

To give an instance: the first part of this law explains why substantial creation is composed of, 1st, atoms which do not give any signs of sensitive life; 2d, of brute animals; 3d, of intelligent animals; 4th, of pure spirits. The second part of this law explains why each of the four species just mentioned is developed in gradations almost infinite--minerals composed and recomposed in all possible ways, manifesting forms, properties, and acts altogether different, and some so constantly as to defy any change from the force of nature so far known to man; hence, in force of that immutable type, they are taken by naturalists as so many scientific species, and the fifty-nine or sixty elements which chemistry so far enumerates; animals also, extending so gradually that the ladder of fixed marks, taken by natural philosophers as so many species, begins where the signs of life are almost insensible and dubious, and ends with man; nor is there wanting, as far as it may be known, any of the intermediate steps.

The pure spirits, as we know from revelation, are divided into choirs and legions innumerable, whose successive gradations in quality and number, to us unknown but certain, are unfathomable; and it is most probable that the ladder of pure spirits is higher, beyond measure, than that which we observe in the sensible universe, and that one spirit is far more superior and distant from another spirit than one star from another.

The necessity of this law springs from that of unity. For, if the type of the cosmos be one, each moment and species representing, as it were, a side of that type, there must be as much affinity and proportion between each moment and each species as to pave the way for the law of unity to represent and mirror the entirety and oneness of the type. We say as much affinity as it is possible to produce, because between each moment and each species there is necessarily a chasm which no continuity or affinity can fill up. For instance, between pure animality and pure intelligence there is necessarily a chasm. Man, placed between the two, draws them together as much as possible; yet the necessary distance marking the two distinct natures cannot by any proportion be eliminated, else the natures would be confounded and destroyed.

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But variety, brought together by the law of continuity, cannot sufficiently exhibit unity. Hence the necessity of a fourth law, that of _communion_.

This law implies, 1st, that the terms of the cosmos should be so united together as to act one upon the other, and serve each other for sustenance and development; 2d, that, founded on the law of hierarchy, inferior beings should be so united to superior ones as to be, in a certain sense, transformed into them, the distinctive marks of their respective natures being kept inviolate.

This law, in both its aspects, we see actuated in the visible universe. Thus man has need of food, which is administered to him by brutes and the vegetable kingdom; he has need of air, to breathe; of light, to see; of his kind, to multiply and to form society. All other animals have need of beings different from themselves to maintain their own existence; and of their like, to multiply their species. The vegetable kingdom needs minerals, earth, water, and the different saps by which it lives. If vegetables did not expel oxygen and absorb carbonic acid, air would become unfit for the respiration of animals; and these sending back, by respiration, carbonic acid, supply that substance of which plants stand in need. Everything, moreover, in the world serves for the development and perfection of man, both as to his body and as to his intellectual, moral, and social life. Every inferior creature is transformed into man. The same animal and vegetable kingdom which, transformed into his blood, sustains his life, helps him for the development of his ideas and his will. The reason of this law, which may be called the law of life, is, that the unity of the cosmos should not be only apparent and fictitious, but real. Now, a real union is impossible if the terms united exercise no real action upon each other, and do not serve for the maintenance and development of each other.

Finally, the law of communion calls for the law of secondary agency; that is, the effects resulting from the moments of the exterior action of God should be real agents. For no real union and communion could exist among the terms of the external action unless they really acted one upon another; any other union or communion being simply fictitious and imaginary. Hence Malebranche, in his system of occasional causes, where he deprives finite beings of real agency, has not only undermined the liberty of man, but destroyed the real communion among creatures, and marred the beauty and harmony of the cosmos. To represent the cosmos as a numberless series of beings united together by no other tie than juxtaposition, and by no means really acting upon each other, is to break its connection, its real and living unity; is to do away with the whole beauty and harmony of that hymn and canticle which God has composed to his own honor and glory.

We come now to the last question: What is the whole plan of the exterior action of God? We have seen that if there be a way by which to effect a cosmos endowed with a certain absolute perfection, that it would be most agreeable to infinite goodness, the end of the exterior action of God. We have seen, moreover, that whether there be such a way, and what this way is, must be determined by revelation. The Catholic Church, therefore, the living embodiment of revelation, must answer these two problems.

It answers both affirmatively. The most perfect cosmos is possible. God has effected it, because most agreeable to his infinite goodness.

What is this cosmos? We shall give it in the following synoptic table.

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God's exterior action divided into:
The hypostatic moment;
The beatific, or palingenesiacal moment;
The sublimative moment;
The creative moment.

The terms corresponding to each moment of the action of God are:

The Theanthropos, or Jesus Christ, God and man, centre of the
whole plan;
Beatific cosmos;
Sublimative cosmos;
Substantial cosmos.
Individual terms of each cosmos:
1. Beatified angels and men;
2. Regenerated men on the earth;
3. Angels, or pure spirits;
Men, or incarnate spirits;
Sensitive beings;
Organic beings;
Inorganic beings.

As each moment of the action of God, as the creative, implies two subordinate moments, preservation and concurrence, it follows that each moment of the action of God implies its immanence and concurrence, though in the Theanthropos it takes place according to special laws. Hence,

Hypostatic immanence and concurrence;
Beatific immanence and concurrence;
Creative immanence and concurrence.

----------

To A Favorite Madonna.

Lady Mary, throne of grace,
Imaged with thy Child before me!
Softly beams the perfect face,
Fragrant breathes its pureness o'er me.

I but gaze, and all my soul
Thrills as with a taste of heaven.
Passion owns the sweet control;
Peace assures of sin forgiven.

Oh! then, what thy loveliness
Where it shines divinely real,
If its strength has such excess
Feebly shadowed in ideal!

From thy arms thy Royal Son
Waits to fill us past our needing:
Hears for all, denied to none,
Thy resistless whisper pleading.

Dream, say they, for poet's eye?
_Thou_ a dream! Then truth is seeming.
Only let me live and die
Safely lost in such a dreaming!

B. D. H.

-------

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Translated From The French.

To Those Who Tell Us What Time It Is.

Before introducing our subject, my dear reader, let me give a moment to a little person whose caprices equal those of any woman living.

Brilliant as the most fashionable beauty, she never goes without her diamonds and rubies in their golden setting, and of which she is equally proud.

Her little babbling is heard continually; and while she boasts her independent movements, like any prisoner or slave she always wears her chain.

I call her a little person, because she accompanies me everywhere; though sometimes she stops while I walk, and goes again when I am inclined to stop.

This delicate, fantastical organization, so difficult to discipline, and as subject to the influences of cold and heat as any nervous lady or chilly invalid, is Mademoiselle--my watch.

You have nearly all, my dear readers, a watch of silver or gold in your vest-pocket, and you can have them of wood or mother-of-pearl, with one great advantage: they cannot be pawned.

Ladies wear watches whose cases shine with their diamonds like the decorations of a great officer of the Legion of Honor. And they can have them inserted in bracelets, in bon-bon boxes, and in buckles for sashes and belts.

But I must tell you, the first accurate instruments, after the sun-dial and hour-glass of the ancients, were huge clocks; and these clocks, so immense, led artists insensibly to construct smaller ones for apartments, in form of pendulums, and which were in the beginning very imperfect.

Then others still more skilful conceived the idea of portable clocks, to which they gave the name of _montres_, (watches, in English,) from _montrer_, to show.

But at first these ornaments were very awkward, and of inconvenient size for the pocket to which they were destined.

Finally, however, they were lessened to such a point that they graced the heads of canes, the handles of fans, and even the setting of rings, and were about the size of a five-cent silver piece.

It is to Hook, a physician and English philosopher, born in 1635, died in 1702, that we owe the invention of pocket watches.

In 1577, the first watches were brought from Germany to England. They had been made at Nuremberg for the first time in the year 1500, and were called the eggs of Nuremberg, on account of their oval form.

At last a man appeared who, not content to enchain time, endeavored to force matter to represent with greater accuracy the flight of years. This was Julien le Roy, the most skilful practical philosopher that France ever had. Always on the _qui vive_ for everything useful and curious, as soon as he heard of the watches of the celebrated Graham, he imported the first one seen in Paris, and not until he had proved it would he relinquish it to M. Maupertuis. Graham, in turn, procured all he could from Julien le Roy. {566} One day my Lord Hamilton was showing one of these wonderful repeaters to several persons. "I wish I were younger," said Graham, "to be able to make one after this model."

This illustrious Maupertuis, who accompanied the king of Prussia to the battle-field, was made prisoner at Molwitz and conducted to Vienna. The grand-duke of Tuscany--since emperor--wished to see a man with so great a reputation.

He treated him with respect, and asked him if he had not regretted much of the baggage stolen from him by the hussars. Maupertuis, after being urged a long time, confessed he would gladly have saved an old watch of Graham's, which he used for his astronomical observations.

The grand-duke, who owned one by the same maker, but enriched with diamonds, said to the French mathematician, "Ah! the hussars have wished to play you a trick; they have brought me back your watch. Here it is; I restore it to you."

To-day, as formerly, the handling of watches is an art. It is much more difficult to measure time than wine or cider. Therefore, among the members of the Bureau of Longitudes, by the side of the senator Leverrier, the marshal of France, (M. Vaillant,) the Admiral Matthieu, is placed the simple clock-maker, M. Bregnet.

And for these artists who give us the means of knowing the hour it is, there is a publication as serious as the _Journal of Debates_, called the _Chronometrical Review_. It certainly should be regularly sent to its subscribers. If the carrier is late, it cannot be for want of knowing if he has to-day's or yesterday's paper; and the subscribers are never exposed to _chercher midi à quatorze heures_.

M. Claudius Saurrier, the chief editor of this _Chronometrical Review_, has also a clock-maker's annual almanac for 1869. This appears very abstruse at the first glance; but if we examine the little volume with the same nicety as a watchmaker his mainspring--that is to say, with a powerful magnifying glass--we will find some things to greatly interest us. For example, a sketch of different attainable speed:

Miles per hour.
The soldier in ordinary step makes, 2¾
The soldier in a charge 4
The soldier in gymnastic exercise, 7
The horse walking, 3
The horse on the trot, 7
The horse on the gallop, 14
The horse on the race-course, 30
The locomotive at ordinary speed, 30
The locomotive going rapidly, 60
The current of the Seine, 3
Steamboats, 4 to 14

A railroad train making thirty miles the hour would consume
about three hundred and fifty years in the journey from the
earth to the sun. More than a dozen successive generations
would have time to appear and disappear during the transit.

But nothing can more surely measure speed than the man who says to his watch, "Thou givest me sixty seconds a minute, and thou canst go no farther."

The little book which has so worthily occupied my attention is not contented with simply describing professional instruments. It plunges into old curiosity shops, and brings out the watch of Marat!

Evidently it does not tell us if this watch was hung in the bathing saloon where the _friend of the people_ was struck by the poignard of Charlotte Corday. But it gives us an exact description of the jewel, or rather of the _onion_ of the celebrated and redoubtable tribune.

It was, indeed, a curious watch that Marat possessed; and, if we cannot imagine the fashion of the epoch, which gave to every one an immense gewgaw, requiring a counter-weight to support it, it will be impossible to explain the oddity of its form.

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It was a massive silver pear, opening into two equal parts. In the lower part of the fruit was found the dial; the upper contained engraved designs of foliage. The case of the pear reproduced the same model; the artist evidently had but one idea. Its size was that of an English pear of medium dimensions, and, thanks to its density, this jewel has been able to pass without any deterioration through the most stormy periods of the world.

The almanac for clock-makers also contains its good stories. It relates that a thief introduced himself into a watch-store as a workman seeking employment, but with the design of abstracting the pocket-book of the proprietor. The scene is dialogued as the two parts of a clock containing the chimes of the north, the solemn stillness of the night broken by question and response, until they mingled in a _naïve contre-point_.

"Thy purse," said the thief.

"I have forgotten it."

"Thy chain."

"I only wear a ribbon."

"Pshaw! no more ceremony. Look at thy watch. What hour is it?"

"The hour of thy death!" replied the young man in a thundering voice, presenting at the same time a double-barrelled pistol at his head.

"Oh! oh!" said the thief, "I was only joking."

"So much the worse. Come, thy purse."

The thief handed it to him.

"Thy chain."

And the chain followed the purse.

"Thy watch."

The thief, trembling from head to foot, drew out a package of watches, entangled one in the other.

"Oh! oh! I have you now. Get out, file to the left, turn thy dial, and go."

And the pickpocket withdrew.

The young watch-maker, perfectly astonished, went immediately to the mayor. They counted twenty-two watches; and the grateful proprietors handsomely indemnified him for his trouble, while at the same time he found himself, by this one stroke, with twenty-two good jobs and a patronage.

Had I time, I could extract many more interesting things from this little work.

For example, a description of a watch made by the grandfather of the present Bregnet--the perpetual watch, so called because it winds itself through some simple movement inserted by the maker. And I could give, also, good advice to wearers of watches.

Where to put them at night.

The manner and time to wind them, and the management of the little needle that makes them go slower and faster.

Then, again, the injury done watches by trotting horsemen, especially physicians, who thereby lose an accurate guide for the pulse of their patients.

Then I should like to consider how Abraham Bregnet made the sympathetic clock, upon which it is only necessary to place before midday or midnight a pocket repeating-watch, advancing or retarding it a little to allow for the time consumed, and by simple contact it regulates the pendulum.

If M. Claudius Saurrier wants something curious for his almanac of the coming year, he has only to take the chapter on clock-making from _The Arts of the Middle Ages_, by Paul Lacroix. There he will see the three primitive methods of measuring time, namely, the sun-dial or gnomon that Anximandre imported from Greece; the clepsydra, where the flowing water indicated the flying minutes; and the hour-glass, where the sand took the place of the water.

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He will find there a watch of the house of Valois placed in the centre of a Latin cross, and moving with it symbolical figures, Time, Apollo, Diana, etc.; or, again, the Virgin, the apostles and saints.

Time has not always been lost through the instruments that indicate its flight. Ages have changed even palaces; and the Palais Royal, whose cannon gives us still the exact hour of mid-day, once knew no hours for its _habitués_, and vice and immorality consumed the time that virtue now gives to better purposes. The poet of 1830 said:

"The palace lives in better days,
And virtue holds its court supreme;
The sun that lent to vice its rays
Now gives to time its potent beam."

But now that I have rendered every tribute to M. Claudius Saurrier that his special science can demand, may I not be equally frank with him?

I don't like to know what time it is; I am seized with profound melancholy when the clock strikes and as the hands of my watch indicate the rapidity with which my life is passing.

If there had never been an hourglass, a clepsydra, a clock, a regulator, a Swiss cuckoo, or a French chronometer, what with the variations of the seasons which are no longer regular--the trees leafing in January, and the house-tops iced in April--we might never be sure of anything, and lead the existence of those who frequented the balls of the tenor Roger. With shutters closed and curtains drawn, the sun excluded for four days, his guests could have doubted whether time had anything to do with their existence.

Then we could so long believe ourselves young! The dreaded question _How old are you?_ could be answered in all sincerity, _I do not know_.

One word more, however, for our pretty watch. How often has it been the symbol of gallantry.

A lady asked a poet why he used two watches. He replied immediately:

"Dear madam, shall I tell you why?
One goes too fast, and one too slow;
When near you I would fondly fly,
I use the first; the other, when I go."

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New Publications.

The Catholic Doctrine Of The Atonement.
An Historical Inquiry into its Development in the Church. With
an Introduction on the Principle of Theological Development.
By Henry Nutcombe Oxenham, M.A., formerly Scholar of Balliol
College, Oxford.
Second Edition. London: Allen & Co. 1869.

This is a very scholarly treatise on an important subject. It is not a dogmatic work, but a work on the history of dogma. The author possesses a remarkable insight into the deep and sublime mysteries of faith, especially that of the Incarnation, and writes like one whose whole mind and soul have become imbued with the spirit of scriptural and patristic theology. His manner is remarkably calm, impartial, and dignified; his method of statement, clear and succinct; and his style is that of an accomplished English and classical scholar, often rising to passages of high poetic fervor and beauty. {569} So far as the exhibition of the true doctrine of the atonement is concerned, beyond the critical statement of different schools of opinion, its chief value consists in the refutation of the Calvinistic doctrine, and its discrimination of the modern prevalent Catholic opinion derived from St. Anselm from the dogma properly so called. The essay on development is one of the ablest portions of the book. Möhler, in his _Athanasius_, has accused Petavius of overstating or pressing too far, in his controversial zeal, the well-known points of his thesis respecting the doctrine of the anti-Nicene fathers against Bishop Bull. It appears to us that Mr. Oxenham has overstepped the mark in the same way in regard to development in general, or at least has used language liable to misapprehension. We think, also, that the character of his mind, which is not adapted to metaphysical or speculative inquiries, and the influence under which his opinions have been formed, lead him to undervalue scholastic theology. There are here and there, also, indications of a bias toward the opinions of a certain class of French writers of the last century, which appears to us to be out of harmony with the genuine spirit of docility to the teaching of the church, and the _pietas fidei_ with which the author is certainly animated. We will specify one instance of this, where Mr. Oxenham has exposed a most vulnerable spot in his defensive armor. It is on page 11 of the introductory essay, where he is rebutting the famous statement of Chillingworth, that there are "Popes against popes, councils against councils," etc. In reply to this, he says, "On this I have to observe, as to popes against popes, waiving the question of fact, their judgments, when resting on their own authority alone, if maintained by some theologians to be infallible, are as strenuously denied to be so by others. It is a purely open question. Councils are held by no one to be infallible except in matters of doctrine, and there is no case of doctrinal contradiction between councils universally received in the church as ecumenical." The author, in this specimen of most faulty logic, by waiving the question of fact respecting the dogmatic judgments of the popes, concedes everything which Chillingworth asserted on that point, and leaves him master of the field. He confines himself to one point of defence, that there are no dogmatic decisions of ecumenical councils which are contradictory to each other. But suppose there are dogmatic decisions of popes to which obedience is required as a term of communion and under pain of excommunication, which are contrary to dogmatic decisions of councils, what then? Suppose one pope requires submission to a dogmatic decision as a term of communion, and his successor requires the same to an opposite decision, what then? Can Mr. Oxenham say _transeat?_ If Mr. Ffoulkes should write a letter to Mr. Oxenham containing an argument based on an affirmation that those suppositions are facts, against the actual position of the holy see and the Catholic episcopate, as against Constantinople and Canterbury, could Mr. Oxenham answer it conclusively without defending that point which he so easily gives up? That the question of the infallibility of the pope is not entirely closed is, of course, true; but it is not so wide open as an ordinary reader would infer it to be from the author's very inconsiderate and unsatisfactory way of stating the matter; nor has it ever been so wide open at any time since St. Peter received from our Lord the charge to confirm his brethren in the faith. Bossuet would never have exposed his flank in the unguarded manner that our author has done. The indefectibility of the Roman see in doctrine, and the duty of obedience to its dogmatic judgments, were always maintained by that great theologian, and by all orthodox Gallicans. The doctrine of what may be called passive infallibility is logically contained in this doctrine of Bossuet and in that doctrine of Catholic faith, that the pope is always the supreme head of the church. By passive infallibility, we mean a security against the separation of the pope and the Roman Church in doctrine from the universal church, either by apostasy from dogmas already defined, or by the enforcement of any new and false dogmas. {570} The active power of the pope, as the teacher and defender of the faith which he perpetually proclaims to the world, and protects by denouncing and condemning heresy, which no Catholic questions, is necessarily secured by this indefectibility or passive infallibility from being perverted to the service of heresy or immorality. The only question that can be discussed between Catholics regarding this matter relates to the conditions and extent of the active infallibility of the pope. The gift of infallibility must necessarily preserve the dogmatic unity of the pope and the Catholic episcopate, and must therefore influence both. They are both factors in the sum of infallibility. What is precisely the force of each as distinct from the other is not yet fully and clearly defined as a canon of faith, and we are willing to await the result of the approaching council which will, probably, at least consider the question of the propriety of making such a canon, before applying any theological formula as a criterion of the orthodoxy of writers, or written statements. Nevertheless, we have a right to expect that every writer should so guard his language and statements that they be not open to a misconception that furnishes a convenient door for the enemy to enter in by.

Perhaps Mr. Oxenham will not essentially dissent from the view we have expressed; and we have the best reason to expect that whatever there may be that is defective or inconsequent in his theological system will be filled up and harmonized by the result of riper thought and study. His work, as a whole, is one of the best and most valuable of those which have been produced by the sound scholars and devoted sons of the church who have been won to the ancient faith of England within the classic halls of Oxford. Every clergyman or scholar addicted to theological studies will find it well worthy of a place in his library, and of a careful perusal.

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Alice Murray; a Tale.
By Mary I. Hoffmnan, authoress of _Agnes Hilton_.
1 vol. 12mo. Pp. 490.
New York: P. O'Shea. 1869.

We like this story for its perfect picture of American country life. We get but one glimpse, and that a very imperfect one, of the city. We have plenty of books, good, bad, and indifferent, describing city life, its manners and customs, its frivolities and follies, and even its vices. It was, therefore, with a feeling of relief, that we read this volume; for, even if one can but seldom visit the country, still one likes to read about its green fields, rippling brooks, gushing springs and dark, cool woods, the lowing kine, and bleating sheep, and in this book we get a goodly dose. Miss Hoffman seems to be a practical farmer, and is as much at home with the butter-ladle as with the pen, and has a thorough disgust, as all good farmers must have, for what city folk often cultivate as flowers--the "pesky white daisy."

The first chapters of the story are a little dull, and the place in which its scene is laid is not definitely stated; but further on, we learn that it is in Western New York. There is nothing extraordinary or intricate in the plot of of the story. Every scene and incident may have occurred just as it is related. It is the old story of innocence and virtue being outgeneralled for a while by craftiness and vice. And while we have such timid girls as Alice Murray, such acts of wrong are possible. It is very well to follow the gospel precept, and when struck upon one cheek to turn the other; but the gospel nowhere requires us to give in addition our own hand with which to smite our cheek.

Alice Murray was the niece of Mr. Elbray's first wife. Her parents died while she was quite young, and Mr. Elbray brought her up as his daughter, as he had no children of his own. He was rich, a self-made man, and a worldly-minded Catholic, paid little attention to the duties or requirements of his religion, but made money his God. {571} He became acquainted with a strong-minded, designing widow, who manages to make him marry her, and from that moment Alice Murray had actually no home. The ambitious wife had her own daughter to provide for, and her whole energies were bent on getting rid of Alice, which she succeeded in accomplishing. From her adopted home Alice went to her uncle Bradley--her mother's sister's husband--who procured her a district school. Even here, though miles away from her, the new Mrs. Elbray, beside intercepting all letters between Alice and her uncle, got up a charge against her of having stolen a gold chain presented to her by her _dear_ departed husband. This was done to prevent Alice returning to her uncle, who was ever regretting her absence. But the crafty woman succeeded; Alice is discarded, and the result is, that Mrs. Elbray's daughter makes a brilliant match, and all the Elbray family move to New York, where old Elbray is ruined by his wife and her daughter's husband, and has to go to the almshouse, where he is discovered by a priest who knew him, and Alice is informed of the poverty of her uncle. She hesitates not a moment, accepts the hand of the lover she had previously refused, because she wished to pay back her uncle all the money he had spent on her, and the new-married couple go straight to New York, rescue the uncle from the almshouse, and take him home with them, where he lives in peace.

The picture of the Bradley family is a beautiful one--just what a good Catholic family should be; in fact, all of Miss Hoffman's family pen-pictures are good. Her great weakness lies in her dialogues; they need more animation and sprightliness; and her very _bad_ characters are better drawn than her very _good_ ones. For instance, in Mrs. Elbray, an ambitious, proud, self-willed and worldly woman, we have decidedly the best depicted character in the book. She labors for a purpose, a bad purpose it is true, and succeeds, although the success was her ruin. Had Alice used for a good purpose one half the energy Mrs. Elbray did for a bad one, a world of suffering would have been saved her, but then _Alice Murray_ would not have been written. We wish the writers of our Catholic stories would allow their good characters to act like living men and women, not mere machines, throwing the responsibility of all their troubles and tribulations upon God, and leaving it _all_ in his hands to see justice done; but teach them to use the means God gave them to help themselves.

We have said that Miss Hoffman's descriptions of American country life and scenery are good. There is one pen-picture on page 170 that will remind many of similar scenes. The story is thoroughly Catholic in tone and sentiment, but is not of the belligerant class. There are no religious discussions indulged in for the sake of displaying one's theological knowledge; but the whole atmosphere of the book--the whole sentiment is Catholic, and the reader feels it, just as one in reading à Kempis would know and feel that the writer was a devout, practical Catholic.

The typographical execution of the book might easily be improved by employing a better proof-reader and the use of better type.

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Chips From A German Workshop.
By Max Müller, M. A.
2 vols. crown 8vo, pp. 374, 402.
New York: Charles Scribner & Co.

These two volumes consist of various essays, lectures, etc., which Professor Müller has published from time to time during the intervals of his long years of labor on the Rig-Veda. They are all more or less closely connected with the great work to which he has devoted his life, and are all illustrations of a systematic religious philosophy. The first volume is devoted to essays on "The Science of Religion." The author remarks that in religion "everything new is old, and everything old is new, and there has been no entirely new religion since the beginning of the world." St. Augustine says that "what is now called the Christian religion has existed among the ancients, and was not absent from the beginning of the human race until Christ came in the flesh;" and the design of these essays is to show how the radical ideas of religion revealed by Almighty God at the beginning have undergone various changes, corruptions, and combinations, yet, though frequently distorted, tend again and again to their perfect form. {572} Professor Müller traces these primitive ideas through the ancient religions of India and Persia, and extracts from the forbidding obscurity of Sanscrit literature a wealth of illustration, which, with his charming style and incomparable happiness in selection, he makes attractive to nearly all classes of readers. He studies the matter not as a theologian but as a coldly critical man of science; and his reasoning is, of course, directly in support of the truths of revelation. The second volume contains an essay on _Comparative Mythology_, and papers on early traditions and customs, all bearing upon the subject of the first, and many of them highly curious. At some future day, if opportunity permits, we hope to recur to these valuable "Chips," and give our readers a few specimens of their excellence.

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Pastoral Letter Of The Most Rev. Archbishop
and Suffragan Prelates of the Province of
Baltimore, at the close of the
Tenth Provincial Council. May, 1869.
Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co.

This letter of the fathers of the council of Baltimore is a renewed evidence of the paternal affection and ceaseless vigilance with which the pastors of the church watch over their flock. On many most important points, they have spoken out with a clearness that must be gratifying to every Catholic heart. First among them is Education. We quote a portion:

"Bitter experience convinces us daily more and more that a
purely secular education, to the exclusion of a religious
training, is not only an imperfect system, but is attended with
the most disastrous consequences to the individual and to
society. Among Catholics, there cannot be two opinions about
this subject. And we are happy to see that this practical truth
is beginning to find acceptance also in the minds of reflecting
men among our separated brethren.

"The catechetical instructions given once a week in our
Sunday-schools, though productive of the most beneficial
results, are insufficient to satisfy the religious wants of our
children. They should every day breathe a healthy religious
atmosphere in those schools, where not only their minds are
enlightened, but where the seeds of faith, piety, and sound
morality are nourished and invigorated.

"Children have not only _heads_ to be enlightened, but,
what is more important, _hearts_ to be formed to virtue."

The most reverend archbishop has been from the first one of the most earnest supporters of the Catholic Publication Society, and, with the prelates of the council, again commends it to the patronage of clergy and laity.

"We desire to renew," say they, "our cordial approbation of the
Catholic Publication Society, recently established in New York,
and we earnestly hope it may receive from our clergy and laity
all the patronage it so well deserves.

"This society is laudably engaged in the publication of such
Catholic works as are peculiarly adapted to the wants of our
times, and it serves as a powerful auxiliary in the propagation
of Catholic truth.

"Short religious tracts are also issued under the auspices of
the same society. These tracts are daily growing in popularity
and usefulness. In one year, about six hundred thousand of them
were printed and distributed. Their brevity recommends their
perusal to many who have neither leisure nor disposition to
read books treating of the same subject. Their short but
convincing arguments always make a favorable impression on
sincere minds; while their plain, familiar style renders them
attractive to the lowest capacity. The very moderate price at
which they are sold places them within the reach of all.

"We trust that our zealous missionary clergy will adopt some
effectual and systematic means by which the books, and
especially the tracts of this excellent society may be
regularly circulated throughout their missions, and distributed
among the children attending our schools."

{573}

These words are very encouraging and opportune; for one thing is sure, and that is, "The Catholic Publication Society," without this co-operation and sympathy, both on the part of the clergy and the laity, cannot accomplish the great work that is before it in our country.

Then follow some timely words of admonition to Catholics lest they imbibe the loose notions which prevail among many around them in regard to the crime of infanticide.

Next, are condemned round dances, indecent publications, and the obscene theatrical performances which are becoming so abundant.

The remainder of the letter contains words of encouragement to the clergy and laity in the various charitable works in which they are engaged, as the erecting of protectories and orphan asylums, the providing churches and schools for our colored brethren, etc.

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Fénélon's Conversations With M. De Ramsai On The Truth Of
Religion, With his Letters on the Immortality of the Soul, and
the Freedom of the Will.
Translated from the French by A. E. Silliman. 1869.

Fénélon was a genius and a saint. He had, moreover, the faculty of expressing his thoughts in a remarkably clear style, and throwing a peculiar charm about every subject he handled. The conversations with Chevalier Ramsay form a short treatise, proving that there is no medium between deism and Catholicism. It is very admirable, and Mr. Silliman has done a good service in translating it, with the two other short but excellent treatises which are appended. The translator's preface, which is perfectly calm and passionless in its tone, gives a brief but interesting sketch of Fénélon's character, and of some of the events of his life, and relates the circumstance which gave occasion to the conversations with Chevalier Ramsay. As it alludes to the condemnation of the _Maxims_ by the pope, and states that this condemnation was given reluctantly and under threats from the king of France, it may be well to explain this matter in a few words. It is true that the accusation of Fénélon at Rome was made through enmity against his person, and in a manner discreditable to the parties concerned, and very displeasing to the pope. It is not true, however, that the decision was given in accordance with the wishes of the king on account of his entreaties or threats. The pope did not wish to have the matter brought before him, because he preferred to leave the errors of Fénélon's book to be corrected by milder methods than a public condemnation, and desired to spare so great and holy a prelate--who had erred only through a mistaken judgment of the true sense of certain statements of the most approved mystic authors--the mortification of a public censure and a formal retraction. The action of Fénélon's enemies made the matter so public and notorious, and brought his erroneous statements into such a clear light that it was impossible to avoid an examination and judgment without scandal. The judgment was impartial, and was necessarily against Fénélon, whose doctrine was clearly irreconcilable with the teaching of the church. At the same time, a sharp reproof was given to his accusers for the spirit which they had shown in pushing matters to extremes, and the personal respect and esteem of the pope for Fénélon were clearly manifested.

The translator has added a very judicious note to the treatise on the immortality of the soul, justly censuring certain statements of the author on the nature of the connection between soul and body. Like many other writers of that time, Fénélon was too much influenced by the philosophy of Descartes whose ridiculous theory of occasional causes appears in the passages criticised by Mr. Silliman. On this point, the language of the Protestant translator is much more in accordance with the Catholic doctrine that the soul is _forma corporis_ than that of the Catholic archbishop.

We recommend this most beautiful specimen of reasoning and persuasive eloquence most heartily to all readers, especially to those who fancy they can find a halting-place somewhere between the rejection of all positive revelation and the acceptance, pure and simple, of Catholicity. {574} The translation is well done, and the mechanical execution of the book, which is a medium between a volume and a pamphlet, is elegant. If the translator finds sufficient encouragement in the reception which it meets with to induce him to continue, we recommend to him the translation of Fénélon's admirable treatise on the existence and attributes of God, as a work which we should welcome as a timely and valuable addition to our English religious literature.

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La Natura E La Grazia,
(Nature And Grace.)
Discourses on Modern Naturalism delivered in Rome during the
Lent of 1865.
By Father Charles M. Curci, S.J.
2 vols. Rome, Turin, and Venice.