Chapter XXVII: Carl Yorke’s Orbit (7)

The _third_ difficulty is purely architectural. While _surfaces_ reflect what are called _pulses of sound_, and so multiply their effects, they also create conflicting waves, which partially neutralize each other, or else strike the ear in irregular succession, to destroy the unity and harmony of sound. We cannot have buildings free from the _inconveniences_ of walls, floors, and ceilings; but we can regulate and utilize surfaces to give aid in the transmission of _air-pulses_ in _one direction_, and greatly diminish the reflecting power of those that would give back conflicting waves of air. A sounding-board or arch, whose lower surface should be a semi-paraboloid, so placed that a line drawn from its highest points, and parallel to its axis, would pierce the opposite wall four feet above the floor, while the axis itself should attain the same height at a distance of forty feet from the _focus_, would be an example of what we mean by utilizing surfaces to transmit air-pulses _in one direction_. The employment of an inelastic substance, like coarse _felt_, between the _furring_ of a wall and the _lathing_, would undoubtedly tend to destroy its ability to reflect the “_pulse of sound_.” And hollow cast-iron columns, _filled with clay_, would hardly _vibrate_ from a pulse of air.

In one of the Protestant churches of our city, we were shown a sounding-board, whose authors seemed to have halted between the acoustic merits of the paraboloid and the graceful shape of the pilgrim’s scallop-shell. We were told that “it helps the voice of the preacher.” There seemed to be too much of it for ornament, if its principle be wrong or inefficient, and too little for usefulness if right. Many attempts to improve the acoustic properties of halls designed for public lectures are failures through faulty execution of correct designs.

We once saw the working-plans of a lecture-room, where the line of intersection of the end wall with the floor of the stage or platform was a _parabola_, the arch above and behind the lecturer’s desk being a _semi-paraboloid_, springing from the wall at the height of the speaker’s voice. Thus, it was supposed that the _pulses_ reflected from the walls and arch would proceed in parallel lines or “waves of sound,” because the _initial pulse_ would always be given at the _focus_ of the reflector.

The place of every joist in the cylindrical wall was carefully marked, and the dimensions and place of each rib of the paraboloidal arch accurately given. But in executing the design, the builder discovered a _mistake_!--“the floor of the stage would not be a true circular segment!” So he “_corrected_ it”--with stunning effect upon the lecturer, and to the utter confusion of his audience. And the design was pronounced _a failure_.

In looking through the work before us, we almost unconsciously began to say: “This is nothing new; we have seen this, and more than this, before.” And in the same sense, we suppose it might as well be said that _nothing_ is essentially new.

We have lately seen a notice of an invention for tracing patterns on glass by means of a _jet_ of sand. Of course, it is nothing new. The wind has been doing the same trick with the sand of the sea-shore for ages. We have seen it long ago, and often. Doubtless, the same effect has been noticed by many others. A thought of the possible utility of a process whose result was seen may have flitted through many minds, and, like the outline of a passing cloud, have been forgotten as it passed. But honestly, we never thought of tracing lace patterns on glass by any such process. And while new combinations of well-known truths give new and useful results, we hope they may never cease to be made.

Mr. Saeltzer’s book is full of good hints. But that is not its chief merit. It recognizes the inseparable connection of sound and ventilation, and insists upon observance of the laws which govern them. As he is so evidently alive to the sanitary and acoustic defects in public buildings, we shall be disappointed if his little volume does not prove to be the preface to more specific, practical directions for their removal. He has put his finger upon the principal cause of failures. The laws of light, and heat, and sound are sufficiently understood to render their phenomena as controllable as time, space, and velocity in mechanics. The more intelligent efforts are therefore directed not to the discovery of new principles involved, but to utilize what knowledge we possess. And when the effort is made at the right point and in the right direction, we can heartily say, Go on and conquer. The world is full of wonderful monuments signalizing defeat. Let us see just one crowned with victory.

As yet, modern ecclesiastical architecture, especially, is but the imperfect reproduction of ancient and mediæval models. It is the heathen temple or the Gothic minster, or, more recently, an attempt to vary the monotony with Byzantine forms of old basilicas, without their grandeur. In decoration, we have crude, unmeaning imitations of Moorish tracery, weak in imagery of form and symbolism, without those glowing contrasts and harmonies of colors which are to architecture as rhythm to poetry of sound. We know the cause and history of this poverty in constructive and decorative art. History tells us how men became so spiritual, in their own conceit, that symbolism was held to be a sin; and how, by losing the sign, the thing signified was forgotten or denied. But it seems almost unaccountable that the world should be teeming with _philosophers_, to whom the laws of nature, even their least tangible phenomena, seem familiar as things of daily use, while great temples are so constructed that they who have ears to hear _cannot_ hear.

FOOTNOTE:

[52] _A Treatise on Acoustics in Connection with Ventilation; and an Account of the Modern and Ancient Methods of Heating and Ventilation._ By Alexander Saeltzer, Architect. New York: D. Van Nostrand, Publisher. 1872.

ODD STORIES.

I.

THE LADDER OF LIFE.

There are a great many rounds in the ladder of life, though simple youths have always fancied that a few gallant steps would take them to the summit of riches and power. Now, the top round of this ladder is not the presidency of any railroad or country, nor even the possession of renowned genius; for it oddly happens that when one sits down upon it, then, be he ever so high up in life, he has really begun to descend. Those who put velvet cushions to their particular rounds, and squat at ease with a view of blocking the rise of other good folks, do not know they are going down the other side of the ladder; but such is the fact. Many thrifty men have, in their own mind, gone far up its life-steps when, verily, they were descending them fast; and poor people without number have in all men’s eyes been travelling downward, though in truth they have journeyed higher by descent than others could by rising. So many slippery and delusive ways has this magical ladder that we may say it is as various as men’s minds. One may slip through its rungs out of the common way of ascent, and find himself going down when he ought to be going up; and vain toilers have ever fancied that they were mounting to the clouds when everybody else must have seen they were still at the same old rounds. Ambitious heroes have made the same mistake, if, indeed, the particular ladder which they have imagined to themselves has not itself been sliding down all the while they have been seeking vain glory by its steps.

The ladder of life is an infinite ladder. It is full of indirections to suit the abilities, and of attractions to please the tastes, of climbers. You may work at a forge, or sail the sea, or trade in money and merchandise, or hear operas, or write romances, or take part in politics, or wander over mountains, or go to church, while living thereon; but you must go up or go down, and either way will have some sort of climbing and toiling to do. Everywhere on the ladder is trouble, save in careful steps; and since human progress is so illusory, many honest persons rather fear to fall than aspire too eagerly, or felicitate themselves on precarious elevations. Prudence forbids us to say at what real round of the ladder are all our bankers, brokers, showmen, advertisers, and other millionaires; but it is certain that good little children, and simple citizens, and poor geniuses, and suffering men and women have gone higher up than the world knows. Indeed, they have gone quite out of sight, for there is a place on the great ladder which few men know, and where only saints can see the angels ascending and descending. Moreover, the ladder of life reaches from the pit to the stars, so that they who climb up or climb down, as it were, may see a firmament at either end: the good, their lights and joys; the evil, their chimeras and fire of darkness.

II.

OBED’S SONS.

Obed, the young man, came to Father Isaac for his blessing, who thus said to him with few words: “Thou shalt have five sons, and to the first shall be given might, to the second cunning, to the third beauty, to the fourth knowledge, to the fifth patience, and to all in accord wisdom: but God giveth naught for nothing.” And as Father Isaac had promised, so was it fulfilled in prayer. The first of the sons of Obed became a mighty hunter; the second excelled in craft’s of all kinds; the third was of a comely figure, well to look upon; the fourth was learned in wise traditions; the fifth was patient, as none other of the family of Obed had been before him. Now, the five sons ill-agreed in their husbandry in the field of their fathers, and they went their several ways, some near, some far, to seek their fortunes, leaving the last and youngest to be the staff of their sire. Then poverty fell upon the house of Obed, and infirmity upon the limbs of the patient man; and, dying, his father blessed him, saying: “The Lord bless thy patience that it fail not.”

At this time, the fame of him that slew lions with his arms, and men with his right hand, was very great; but a devil entered into him, so that he did no work, and fell to great sloth, and men scorned him, and he lifted up his voice and cried: “Oh! that I had the cunning of my brother, that my hands might know their work; and the beauty of my brother, that maids should not turn from me; and the knowledge and patience of my brethren, that I might with wisdom bide my time.”

From all sides was he sought that had the gift of cunning; but being greedy in his craft, and seeking not knowledge, nor patience, he lost his cunning, and cried with a face in which there was no beauty: “Wisdom was not given me, nor patience, neither comeliness nor might, and so have I been abandoned to devices of misery.”

Rejoicing in his fair proportions, the third son of Obed danced before the daughters of his tribe, but, taken in the wiles of flattery and of pleasure, he became as a drunken man whose face is a warning, and whose life is a scandal, and he lamented: “Oh! that I had the cunning or patience or might of my brethren, then should none withstand me, or I be overthrown.”

And he to whom it was given to know much in many tongues, and to counsel with scholars, lost the kindly ways of men, seeking vain and dark sciences, till he exclaimed in the bitterness of his heart: “Knowledge is given me without wisdom: henceforth must I seek counsel in patience, and observe the prudence of my brethren.” And he set out for the house of his fathers.

Now had the infirm brother tilled the fields of his brethren, and taught the laborers thereof the arts of handiwork, and when the sons of Obed returned to the house of their sire, one after another, the first averred that he was strong, the second that he was cunning, the third that he was comely, the fourth that he had knowledge. But Father Isaac, the shepherd of his flock, hearing them, said: “Yea, for he hath one virtue which maketh many: the staff of thy brother hath devoured thy rods.”

“Wherefore, then, lov’d Isaac,” spake the eldest, “are we robbed of our gifts, and wit, and might, and beauty gone from us, leave us in sorrow of heart?”

“Told I not thy sire Obed,” said the patriarch, “that the Lord of lords gave naught for naught. Have ye earned your wages--have ye paid back your gifts? He that had might, why was he not taught of knowledge and invention, and, being skilled, why learned he not the patience of toil? He that had beauty, why sought he not counsel of strength and skill, that judgment might be his? He of knowledge, why sought he not help of patience and craft? Each had his virtue to purchase a share in the virtues of the rest, and to win gifts to his gift, that God might be praised. But only goodness bringeth fit wisdom, and wisdom dwelleth not in discord.”

Then the sons of Obed, answering, asked: “Why hath one virtue, as thou sayest, devoured ours?”

“For that thou hast thrown thine own to the dogs, my sons, and patience hath picked them up. He that suffereth much with patience winneth much with wisdom.”

“Even so, Father Isaac, but have we not, too, suffered?”

“Yea, my children, that so God may teach thee wisdom, and thy gifts abound tenfold. He that hath much, let him save it by bounty: he that hath little, let him increase it with patience: he that hath won, let him divide the victory. Share ye each other’s virtues, that each may possess the gifts of all.”

THE THREE PLEDGES.

Three students sat together
In a villa on the Rhine,
And pledged the beauteous river
In draughts of sparkling wine.

One was bold and haughty,
Count Otto was his name:
His dark eyes flashed and smouldered:
From Nuremberg he came.

And one was too fond-hearted
For aught but love and song;
With hair too brightly golden
To wear its lustre long.

His hands were white and shapely
As any maid’s might be;
Count Adelbert of Munich,
A joyous youth was he.

And one was grave and quiet,
With such a winning smile
That, meeting all its brightness,
Sad hearts grew light the while.

And as they sat together,
Three trav’llers by the Rhine,
And pledged the noble river
In draughts of golden wine,

With lays of olden minstrels
They whiled the hours away,
Till twilight gently sealed them
With the sign of parting day.

Then silence fell upon them,
And the distant boatman’s song
Returned in softened echoes
The gleaming waves along;

And through the latticed windows
The hush of evening stole,
And the solemn spell of silence
Fast fettered soul to soul.

Dream on, O happy-hearted!
The future holds no truth,
No amaranthine jewel,
Like the rainbow tints of youth.

Dream on, O happy-hearted!
The hour will soon be gone,
And darkness fall too swiftly.
Dream on, young hearts, dream on!

* * * * *

This is the proudest hour
Of all the golden twelve,
That seek the mystic caverns
Where gray gnomes dig and delve.

“The beauty of the morning
Is but the birth of day,
And the glory of the noontide
Doth pass as soon away.

“But twilight holds the fulness,
The meed of every one,
And drops the radiant circlet
Before her god, the sun.

“This is the proudest hour
Of all the golden twelve--
Now combs the Nix her tresses,
Now rests his spade the elve.

“And I drink to the proudest maiden
That treads this German-land;
No other love shall my heart own,
No other queen my hand.

“And I’ll pledge her three times over,
This haughty queen of mine,
In the brightest flowing nectar
That ever kissed the Rhine.”

Thus spake the bold Count Otto,
And held his goblet up,
And three times overflowing
Each student drained his cup.

“This is the fairest hour,
For the sunset clouds unfold
To the purple sea of twilight
Their red-tipped sails of gold.

“And the hecatombs of sweetness
That all the day have risen
In the bosom of the flowers
Unbar their shining prison.

“This is the fairest hour,
The hour of eventide,
And I drink to the fairest maiden
That dwells the Rhine beside.

“And I pledge her three times over,
Though her only dower should be
The heaven-born gift of beauty,
And a faithful love for me.”

Thus spake Adelbert, smiling,
And held his goblet up,
And three times overflowing
Each student drained his cup.

Then paused the twain in wond’ring,
What Ludwig’s toast might be;
For their comrade sat in silence,
And never word spake he.

“How now? Why thus, brave Ludwig,
Sitt’st thou in pensive mood?
Dost choose to dwell unmated,
In loveless solitude?”

He smiled, and then looked downward
As he answered, glass in hand,
“Nay, nay; but, if I pledge her,
Ye will not understand.”

“Where dwells she, then?” cried Otto,
“This peerless love of thine?
Mayhap some fabled Lurline
That sings beneath the Rhine?

“Thou’rt smiling--haste, then, pledge her!”
And the brimming glasses rung
As Ludwig dropped the music
That trembled on his tongue.

“This is the holiest hour
Of all the twenty-four,
For the rush of day hath passed us,
And the tide returns no more.

“And the waves of toil and traffic,
By dark argosies trod,
Are lost through circling eddies
In the mightiness of God.

“This is the holiest hour
When purest thoughts have birth,
And I drink to the holiest maiden
That ever dwelt on earth.

“Her vesture falleth around her
In folds of changeless white,
And her holiness outshineth
The jewels of the night.

“She weareth a mantle of sadness,
Her sorrows are her fame:
She long hath been my chosen,
But I will not name her name.

“Ah! not with wine I pledge thee,
All spotless as thou art,
But with my life’s devotion,
With the fulness of my heart.

“Ah! not with wine I pledge thee,
Nor one libation pour;
Thou hold’st the bond that seals me,
Thine own for evermore.”

This with white brow uncovered,
’Neath the floating twilight skies;
And angels might have marvelled
At the beauty of his eyes.

Then he turned his goblet downward,
And waved the flask aside
His comrades would have proffered
To pledge such wondrous bride.

“Friend, thou hast spoken strangely,
But thou wert ever strange;
Mayhap this matchless maiden
Hath power thy mood to change.”

Thus Adelbert spake, smiling,
And shook his golden hair:
“_I_ ask nor saint nor angel,
But maiden fond and fair.

“Then let us pledge each other,
Since thy passion is too deep,
With comrades tried and trusty,
Its sacredness to keep.

“What maiden like thy vision
In all our fatherland?”
“Ah! said I not,” cried Ludwig,
“Ye would not understand?”

“Come, let us pledge each other,”
Said Otto, glass in hand--
“A right good draught of friendship
That all may understand.”

Then their glasses clashed together,
“Firm may our fealty be!”
And Ludwig’s voice of music
Rang loudest of the three.

* * * * *

Seven times hath autumn gathered
The vintage of the Rhine,
Since the students pledged each other
In draughts of golden wine.

In a grand and lofty castle,
The Danube’s stream beside,
Count Otto dwells in splendor,
The lord of acres wide.

He has won the proudest maiden
In all that German-land,
And countless hosts of yeomen
Obey his high command.

But the haughty brow is clouded,
And his eye is full of care,
For the trace of many a heart-storm
Hath left its impress there.

Love had sought Adelbert,
Young Beauty’s flow’ret blown,
And the tendrils of its blossoms
About his heart had grown.

And joy had wrapped them softly
In robes of radiant sheen,
Till Death bent down, relentless,
And sapped their living green.

Hush! a mourner sits in silence
Within a darkened room,
Where the fairest flower of summer
Lies withered in her bloom.

While those who move about him
With footsteps sad and slow,
Whisper to each other,
But leave him to his woe.

And down in the quiet churchyard,
Where nodding grasses wave,
The children gather, silent,
And the sexton digs a grave.

Solemnly tolls the church-bell,
It counteth twenty-five--
O God! the flowers wither,
And the old, old branches thrive.

Solemnly tolls the church-bell,
Slowly winds the train
Adown the rocky hillside,
Along the grassy plain;

Sadly pass the bearers
Into the churchyard old,
Brightly falls the sunlight
In glittering lines of gold;

Tearfully pause the mourners
Above the broken sod,
And Ludwig waits beside it,
A humble priest of God.

NEWMAN ON MIRACLES.[53]

These essays are here reprinted from the original editions of each, with only the addition of a few bracketed notes, and with some slight emendation of the wording of a few sentences of the text of a merely literary character. For many years, Dr. Newman has been a public man in the English theological world, so much so that, as he himself expressed it, “he is obliged to think aloud.” His writings have passed into the domain of English literature, and are public property. It is not now in his power to withdraw any portion of them, much as he might desire to do so. Under existing circumstances, he has judged it the better course--or, at least, the lesser evil--that they should be republished under his own eye, with such corrections in bracketed notes as will indicate what he would now correct or retract.

These two essays mark very distinctly two stages in the career through which, as he fully explains in his _Apologia_, Dr. Newman has passed.

The first one, written to defend the miracles recorded in the Holy Scriptures against the attacks of Hume, Gibbon, and other infidels, dates from 1825-26, while he was yet young, and a staunch Protestant, somewhat imbued with evangelical feelings, especially in the matter of _Popery_. Hence, while ably conducting the exposition and defence of the Scripture miracles, he omits no opportunity of hitting at the other miracles recorded to have occurred in the Catholic Church since the days of the apostles. In fact, he had, as he tells us elsewhere, read the work of Middleton on _The Miracles of the Early Church_, and had imbibed his spirit. He was guided also by Bishop Douglas, whose _Criterion_ he often quotes.

Seventeen years of continuous study and mature thought produced their fruit in his clear and candid mind. In 1842-43, he wrote the second essay as a preface or introduction to a portion of Fleury’s _Ecclesiastical History_, then being published in an English translation.

Though still a Protestant, he had entirely changed his views on these ecclesiastical miracles. So much so, that this essay may be read as his own confutation of what he had said against them in his earlier essay. In the present volume, the bracketed foot-notes subjoined to that essay are, for the most part, mere references to the paragraphs of the second essay, in which the immature errors of the first are corrected. With the traditional prejudices of Protestantism then strong in him, he had looked on these ecclesiastical miracles as rivals, and as, in some way, antagonistic to the miracles of Scripture which he was upholding; and he had striven to find points of difference as well in their internal character as in the evidence needed to prove them. All this he fully meets in the second essay. In the second, third, and fourth chapters of it, treating of “The Antecedent Probability of Ecclesiastical Miracles,” of their internal character, and of the evidence in support of their credibility, he shows how the admission of Scripture miracles utterly does away with the ground taken by some against the possibility or probability of ecclesiastical miracles, how the two classes agree in their chief and essential characteristics, and how, in fact, they rather merge into one general class of events, under the moral order of divine Providence, established for man’s salvation--an order distinct from and superior to the physical order of nature. Nothing can be more lucid than his replies to the objections of Douglas, Warburton, Middleton, and other Protestant writers on this subject. He shows, with the utmost clearness, how all that they urge against these ecclesiastical miracles in the Catholic Church can be turned by unbelievers, with equal plausibility, and in the same sophistical spirit, against the miracles of the apostles themselves.

Dr. Newman, in both dissertations, frankly admits--what indeed cannot be denied--that not a few of the Scripture miracles are to be believed by us simply because they have been recorded by divinely inspired writers. We have no other knowledge of them, no other evidence of their having occurred, than that we read them on the inspired page. Such miracles are for us matters of faith, not proofs in evidence. They are themselves proved by Scripture. Whatever they were to those who witnessed the occurrence, they are not now for us historical evidence in support of divine revelation. Writing as a Protestant, Dr. Newman did not advert to another important truth lying further back which Protestant writers generally ignore. Our knowledge of the inspiration and divine authority of the Scriptures as we have them--distinguished, that is, from the numerous other gospels, acts, epistles, apocalypses, and other pretended sacred writings, more or less current among and accepted by the sectaries of the early Christian ages--depends entirely on the decision of the Catholic Church, made after the death of the apostles. Hence, the value of the Scripture testimony as to these miracles, and our duty to recognize and accept it as divinely inspired, and therefore unerring, depend, in the last analysis, on the divine authority and character of the Catholic Church--of that same church which has always claimed that God continues to work miracles within her fold. To say that she errs on this latter point leaves room, to say the least, for the imputation or the suspicion that she may have erred in the other decision likewise; and so those Scripture miracles which lack, as most of them do, other corroborative testimony, would stand without sufficient proof. On the contrary, for the ecclesiastical miracles, because they occurred nearer our own times, there might still remain, as in many cases there does remain, ample historical evidence from contemporary witnesses.

After devoting four chapters to a thorough discussion of the subject of ecclesiastical miracles in general, Dr. Newman proceeds, in the fifth and last chapter, to sum up and discuss the evidences we still have, in nine special cases, held to be miraculous interventions, in the early ages of the church. For a clear and orderly presentation of the evidence, the logical application of the principles established in the earlier chapters, and the happy and often overwhelming retorting of their own propositions on Douglas, Leslie, and other anti-Catholic writers, each one of these cases deserves and will amply repay a special study.

Here, as in his other volumes, Dr. Newman displays that intellectual acumen and that plain common sense which are as characteristic of his writings as is the singular mastery over the English language which has caused him to be recognized as one of the classical writers of our day.

Valuable as this volume is to the careful student for its erudition and acute reasoning, and for the aid it gives in the polemical controversies that rise from time to time with Protestants, it is chiefly valuable, in our eyes, as a well-reasoned and, as it were, practical refutation of that rationalistic or materialistic system of false philosophy which is taught in some of our colleges, and is being spread through the land, and which either leaves God out of sight altogether, or at most acknowledges him only as the Creator and founder of the physical order. Dr. Newman, in discussing what some would term the philosophy of miracles, sets forth strongly and clearly the necessity of recognizing and taking into account the moral order, established by God, equally with the physical order, and superior to it in rank. The world is under both. To leave either out is to take only a partial view. To exclude the moral order from our consideration is to err at the very commencement of our course, and our progress will be but from error to error. The action of both orders may, and often does, coincide--would have always coincided had not sin brought in jarring and confusion. But in point of fact, they are sometimes found in opposition. A wise and good sovereign dies immaturely, leaving his sceptre to a wicked and unscrupulous successor; a good father dies early in life, and his orphans are left to grow up in ignorance and vice; a just and benevolent man dies or is ruined, and debts are left unpaid, and a stream of charity fails at the fount. And if we class the evil actions of men as belonging to this physical order, and the rationalists refuse to class them otherwise, do they not present a continual opposition between the physical and the moral orders? And if the physical order so asserts itself, should we not reasonably look for corresponding, if not greater, manifestations in the moral order?

Divine revelation itself is a fact in the moral order entirely beyond and above the physical order of nature--by its nature, a miracle. It can be proved only by miracles; and miracles are the appropriate accompaniment of its continuance as a dispensation of divine Providence. Hence, in the church--the kingdom of heaven--in which God specially reigns and rules, and in which the moral order is endowed with supernatural force, and interworks with the physical order of nature, we should as readily and as reasonably look for miracles, as, if we may be allowed a trivial comparison, we should expect, when examining a piece of complicated machinery, to find that one set of wheels will control and at times arrest the ordinary action of other wheels, and interpose some result due to their own special action in the general series of results. Not to take account of the moral and supernatural order in God’s ruling the world is not to recognize the highest and greatest of his acts. The rationalist is like a deaf man before an exquisite musical clock. His eye may follow the hands as they move round the dial; but he has closed his ears to the sweet melodies that float around him.

FOOTNOTE:

[53] _Two Essays on Scripture Miracles and on Ecclesiastical_. By John Henry Newman, formerly Fellow of Oriel College. Second edition. London: Pickering. 1870. New York: Sold by the Catholic Publication Society. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 396.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

THE LIQUEFACTION OF THE BLOOD OF ST. JANUARIUS, AT NAPLES. An
Historical and Critical Examination of the Miracle. New York:
The Catholic Publication Society. 1872.

This is a republication of several very able and interesting articles which have lately appeared on this subject in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. Their appearance in the present form cannot but be welcomed by all well-disposed persons, whether they be desirous to ascertain the truth or anxious to have the means for defending it. Catholics, who are accustomed to hear this miracle, as well as the many others which have occurred in the church from the earliest times, coolly dismissed by their Protestant acquaintances as undoubted impostures or superstitions, will find in this account all that is needed to silence, if not to convince, their opponents, and to enable them to assert their own faith; while the fair and candid non-Catholic will find in it an array of facts and of reasoning which cannot fail to produce a deep impression on his mind, and which may serve as a basis for his conversion to the faith. But we would not advise anyone who is determined in any event to remain a Protestant or an infidel to have anything to do with it. The failure to find any false but plausible theory to account for certain phenomena which do not agree with one’s preconceived ideas sometimes leads to a very unpleasant and dangerous frame of mind--that in which it impugns the known truth. The book contains seventy-nine pages, and is illustrated by an engraving representing the celebrated reliquary in which the blood of the saint is contained. It is the only complete and exhaustive treatise on the subject in the English language.

* * * * *

AMERICANISMS: The English of the New World. By M. Schele De Vere,
LL.D. New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1872.

This elegantly printed book has a real and solid value. It shows how the English language has been enriched by additions from various sources in the New World, while, at the same time, it indicates the deterioration and corruption to which it has been exposed by knocking about in a new country. Both these topics are important, and we commend them to the careful attention of all who wish to acquire a true knowledge of the art of speaking and writing English. We object decidedly to the definition of _A Hickory Catholic_, on p. 58, as one who “is free from bigotry and asceticism.” This is a vulgar cant phrase, unworthy of a scholar. A hickory Catholic is a person who makes his principles bend to his passions and interests. He believes that he is bound to go to Mass on Sundays and to the Sacraments at Easter, but neglects to do so, because he is lazy, or fond of drinking too much, or licentious, or unwilling to make restitution, or stupidly careless about his soul; hoping to sneak into heaven by an old age or death-bed repentance. We have noticed nothing else worthy of censure in Professor De Vere’s book, and we can recommend it without hesitation as most valuable to all who are engaged in teaching the English language or endeavoring to learn it. It is, moreover, extremely amusing and entertaining, as well as instructive. Would that those who have the naming of places would study it attentively, and strictly follow its suggestions! Think of _Ovid_, _Livy_, _Greece_, _Virgil_, for names of villages in a country rich in glorious Indian names! Not content with imposing absurd or unmeaning or vulgar names on places which had none before, those which have already most tasteful and appropriate ones are frequently rebaptized. For instance, in Fairfield Co., Connecticut, Saugatuck has been changed to Southport, and Green’s Farms to Westport. What a name is New York for a great state and a great city! What a change from Lake St. Sacrament, or even Horicon to Lake _George_! We wish that some of those who have leisure and inclination to take up this matter in earnest would do so, and try to effect a reformation. We notice also, with satisfaction, the condemnation of that wretched interloper and vagabond of a word, _donate_. Humbly, and with tears in our eyes, we entreat of our venerable presidents of colleges and of all in literary authority to sentence and banish _donate_, or he will some fine day bring into college his still shabbier and more beggarly cousin, _orate_, and a whole troop of poor relations, who will _locate_ themselves, for all coming time. English has been and can be enriched from new sources, as Professor De Vere amply proves; but let us watch carefully that it do not become corrupted and be not made vulgar.

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ZEAL IN THE WORK OF THE MINISTRY. By L’Abbé Dubois. London: J. C.
Newby. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.

It is encouraging to see books of this kind published in the English language. We know not how to make any extracts from this volume, for every page of it is filled with good sense, practical advice, and the true spirit of the priesthood. Could we realize our wishes, we would place in the hands of every priest and candidate preparing for ordination a copy. It would be most wholesome for daily spiritual reading and meditation. The author reveals his object in writing the book in the following passage in the preface, p. viii.:

“To rekindle in the bosom of the priesthood the ardor of that
zeal which should be its animating principle; to call to
remembrance those noblest virtues without which it languishes,
and with which it works miracles; further, to bring that zeal
into practice by showing how the priest ought to act in the
various circumstances of daily life, and in his intercourse with
the various persons with whom he is perpetually brought into
contact; such, in short, is the plan I have adopted. God grant
that I may have carried it into execution in such a way as to
procure abundantly his glory and the salvation of souls!”

One evidence that he has not been unsuccessful in attaining his object, is that this translation is made from the fifth French edition.

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THE BOOK OF PSALMS. Translated from the Latin Vulgate. Being a
Revised Edition of the Douay Version. London: Burns, Oates
& Co. 16mo, pp. 193. New York: The Catholic Publication
Society, 9 Warren Street.

“This English version of the Book of Psalms,” says the Most Rev. Dr. Manning in the preface, “may be regarded as one more of the many gifts bequeathed to us by my learned and lamented predecessor [Cardinal Wiseman]. One-half, at least, of the psalms were revised by his own hand.” Critics will regret that there is nothing to enable them to distinguish the precise psalms on which the illustrious cardinal brought his great Biblical learning and his pure English taste to the task of revision.

The term “Douay Version” in the title is used in the loose way which his eminence himself opposed, and the basis is not the Douay, but Dr. Challoner’s text.

This edition is made in a cheap popular form, and is intended to diffuse more generally among the faithful the psalms as a manual of prayer. They are the great storehouse from which the church draws her offices, and supply the pious with ejaculations, short and fervent prayers, which are of wonderful value. No greater boon has been added recently, for, though there is no lack of pocket Bibles, they are unhandy, and the type too small for those who wish the psalms alone.

To meet this want a new translation was issued in 1700, in a neat little volume, the version being by John Caryl, a friend of Pope, and faithful adherent of the Stuarts. His _Psalms_ is a very uncommon work, though highly esteemed.

We had thus Gregory Martin’s version in the original Douay, Caryl’s, Bishop Challoner’s, and Archbishop Kenrick’s, and we have now a version due in part at least to Cardinal Wiseman. It is a little volume that will reward study among those who wish to compare the versions, and as a convenient, well-printed manual commends itself to the pious.

“In the Book of Psalms,” says his grace, Dr. Manning, “the Spirit of Praise himself has inscribed the notes and the words of thanksgiving to be learned here, and to be continued before the eternal throne. For this use and aid I commend the present volume to the piety of the faithful.”

Some common errors have, we see, been retained in this edition, which we hope to see corrected, such as the omission of “angry” before enemies in Ps. xvii. 48; “and,” in Ps. xliii. 12; “in form,” Ps. xliv. 4.

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A JOURNEY AROUND MY ROOM. By Count Xavier de Maistre. New York:
Hurd & Houghton.

This work, so full of the author’s delicate humor and sentimental reverie, is the very thing for a winter evening, when one feels like giving himself up to dream away a few hours.

The author was a younger brother of the perhaps better known Count Joseph de Maistre, French Ambassador at the Russian Court in the early part of this century, and one of the ablest defenders of the Papacy. He was the author of the famous _Du Pape_ and the philosopher of the _Soirees de St. Petersbourg_. Count Joseph was likewise an intimate friend of Madame Swetchine’s, whose interesting life has been published by “The Catholic Publication Society,” and was instrumental in the conversion of that remarkable woman to the Catholic Church.

The De Maistres belonged to the _haute noblesse_ de Savoy. Count Xavier, as well as his brothers, became an exile during the first French Revolution. He went to Russia, where he married. After an absence of twenty-five years he returned to his own country.

Lamartine addressed him one of his _Harmonies Poëtiques_ after his return, saluting him thus:

“Voyageur fatigué qui reviens sur nos plages
Demander à tes champs leurs antiques ombrages,
A ton cœur ses premiers amours!”

He also calls Count Xavier the Sterne of Savoy, but without his affectation, and declares him equal to Rousseau, but without his declamatory style. “He is a familiar _genie_, a fireside talker, a cricket chirping on the rural hearth.”

The writings of Xavier de Maistre were among the favorite volumes that composed Eugénie de Guérin’s library, and we can imagine a certain sympathy in their intellectual natures. The _Lépreux_ in particular appealed to her sympathetic nature, and the thought of meeting its author filled her with delight. When this meeting took place at Paris, Count Xavier had just lost his children, and was so depressed in consequence that it was not equal to her expectations.

But Lamartine speaks of seeing him a few years after, and describes him as “an old man of fourscore years, gracious in manner, and with no signs of decay of body or feebleness of mind. Airiness of sentiment, a mild sensibility, a half-serious, half-indulgent smile at human affairs, a tolerance--the result of his intelligence--of all human opinions: such was the man.

“His sonorous voice had a far-off sound like an echo of the past, and was well adapted to the reminiscenses of his previous life, which he loved to tell.

“His _Leper of the City of Aosta_ is, in the literature of the heart, equal to Paul and Virginia; the _Journey around my Room_ is only a pleasantry. The _Leper_ is a tear, but a tear that flows for ever!”

Lamartine, in his _Confidences_, gives a pleasing picture of the De Maistre family, and likens a summer passed among its illustrious members in Savoy to the conversations of Boccaccio at his country-seat near Florence. They used to assemble beneath a clump of pines at the foot of Mont du Chat, overlooking the Arcadian valley of Chambery, so redolent of St. Francis de Sales, another genius not less poetical, and with no less delicacy of sentiment, but loftier than Xavier de Maistre; and sometimes they came together on a terrace over-arched by vine-hung elms before the Château de Servolex, the residence of Madame de Vigny, De Maistre’s sister.

Count Joseph de Maistre, like a modern Plato, was the centre of this family group. His stature was lofty, his features fine and manly, his forehead broad and high, and, crowning all, floated his thin, silvery hair. His mouth was indicative of the delicate humor that characterized the family. His brothers regarded him with great respect, and used to gather around him to listen to the experiences of his exile. Even the Canon de Maistre, afterwards Bishop of Aosta, who looked like a Socrates, with features that had been softened and sanctified by the influences of Christianity, would hasten to close the breviary he had been reading in a secluded alley, and join the group.

And now and then came sweet interludes of soft Scythian airs through the open window of the château, which Mademoiselle de Maistre, a pensive, talented girl, was playing on the piano.

The writings of Count Xavier de Maistre, though not at all dogmatic, belong to Catholic literature. They are among the sweet blossoms that have unfolded under the pure light of Catholic influences, and with a delicacy of aroma not to be found in the forced hot-house plants of the world. We love to inhale their odor, and would not be the last to welcome the appearance of _The Journey around my Room_.

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THE HISTORY OF GREECE. By Professor Dr. Ernest Curtius.
Translated by Adolphus William Ward, M.A. Vols. I. and II.
New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1871.

Dr. Ernest Curtius is impartial, and metes out strict justice to all whom he summons to the tribunal of history. Neither Spartan valor nor Athenian grace influences his judgment. He passes from the Eurotas Valley to the Acropolis without leaving in his train a single notion which would weigh in his decision on the men and things in Attica. And this impartiality is a rare gift in the writers of Grecian history, be they ancient or modern. Almost all take sides. Mitford holds the Spartan oligarchy to be the height of perfection in government, and makes it the standard by which the democracy of Athens is to be judged. The result is that in his pages the fair features of Athens are caricatured and distorted, while the stern features of Sparta are so flattered that not even Lycurgus would recognize them. On the other hand, Thirlwall, and many more besides, have not been able to escape the fascination of Athenian wit and elegance, and throughout their histories Athens is unduly favored. Dr. Curtius judges not of governments and institutions in the abstract, but he judges of them with reference to the peoples for whom they were intended, and thus has avoided the error into which so many have fallen.

There are in the volumes before us two points which are particularly well handled. These are the origin of the Greek people, and the development of their religion. Mr. Mommsen, in his _History of Rome_, absurdly tells us that the ancient peoples of Italy were indigenous to the soil. This he does, doubtless, either to show his independence of revelation, or to save himself the trouble of further investigation, perhaps with both ends in view. Dr. Curtius is neither so disregardless of truth nor so saving of labor. By the aid of ethnography, philology, and historical research, he demonstrates that the Greeks and the Latins also belonged to the great Aryan family. He traces them back to their old homes in the Phrygian highlands, where, before their migrations westward, they occupied positions adjoining. The Latin tribes were the first to leave Asia Minor, then followed the Greeks in successive waves of migration through the Hellespont and Propontis.

The learned professor discusses at length the origin and development of the Greek Pantheon, and the conclusion arrived at is most satisfactory. He proves that the Greek tribes in their primitive simplicity worshipped the one only God--“The Zeus, who dwelt in light inaccessible.” Gradually the primitive traditions began to wane, and the “Zeus who dwelt in light inaccessible” became the “Zeus who dwelt in sacred light over the oak-tops of the Lycæan mountain,” still formless and unapproachable. But this Zeus was too near the earth to remain long formless and unapproachable. His worshippers soon began to approach him under different names, then under different forms, and, finally, they divided him up into the different gods of their Pantheon, so that the first and best known became the “Unknown God.”

We have now pointed out some of the excellences of Dr. Curtius’ history, but it has its defects, as every human work has, and one of these we deem it our duty to point out. Its chief defect is its diffuseness; for diffuse it really is in many places. And because it is diffuse it is often monotonous and even prosaic. On the whole, however, the style is good, and abounds in elegant passages, which are well rendered by the translator. This defect is indeed the only one which justifies us in doubting whether the _History_ will become popular, and receive the appreciation which it deserves.

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FASHION: THE POWER THAT INFLUENCES THE WORLD. By George P. Fox.
New York: The American News Company. 1872.

The author of this work seems to have been “born with a divine idea of cloth.” According to him, fashionable dress is a preservative of morals. Easy and graceful garments are incompatible with deeds of violence. No one who ever honored the author with his patronage was ever convicted of a crime. We are as morally bound to offer a pleasing exterior to our friends as a smiling face. In Carlyle’s language, “Man’s earthly interests (to say the least) are all hooked and buttoned together by clothes. Society is founded on cloth.” The pen was once considered mightier than the sword, but shears are now in the ascendency. “Dress makes the man, and want of it the fellow.” Dress is a duty we owe ourselves, and inattention to it indicates a want of respect to others. Man’s chief duty is to sacrifice to the graces. Our author is the high-priest of fashion. He makes dress almost a sacrament--as Hazlitt says, “an outward and visible sign of the inward harmony of the soul.” _Non possumus_ does not seem to be in his code. There is no physical defect he cannot remedy. Witness the unhappy man in New York, with a long neck, low shoulders, and sallow complexion, at last able to hold up his head in society; the unfortunate British nobleman, whose attenuated and shapeless limbs are made to correspond more fully to our idea of sturdy John Bull; and President Fillmore’s life-long ambition for a pair of well-fitting pantaloons at length realized. Bow legs and knock-knees are all remedied. The old proverb of the Béarnais is verified: “_Habillez un bâton, il aura l’air d’un baron_.” A book that brings hope to all is a public benefaction. No Jonathan need despair of cutting a figure in the world after this, and he _should_ not. Dress, its color, style, and fit, are all matters of momentous interest (being so interwoven with our morals), as well as manners and the carriage of the body, which are not overlooked in this volume. As to the latter, everybody knows a stoop in the shoulders sinks a man in public and private estimation.

The _Saturday Review_ calls our author a Transcendental Tailor, a title he evidently merits. The _devise_ he assumed when he entered the _lists_ was _Faire sans dire_, which Daniel Webster did him the honor of quoting in an address before the New York Historical Society, as well as wearing his transcendent--we almost said transcendental--garments, both living and dead, for the blue coat with a velvet collar and gold-wove cloth buttons that shrouded the immortal statesman are almost a matter of history, and have been sworn to in the most solemn manner before the mayor of New York.

But to go back to our _devise_. The author forgot it when he began to write. He must now make it: _Faire et dire_. However, he handles the pen almost as skilfully as the shears, and throws quite a glamour of poetry over the most common duties of the toilet. He ought to be a capital hand at a _hem-a-stitch_, as Rogers said of Béranger. He gives some excellent advice about dress (gentlemen’s, of course) and etiquette, but some of the chapters seem rather foreign to the subject. We cordially recommend the book to Mr. and Mrs. Veneering as they endeavor to adjust themselves at the glass of fashion, and to whosoever is entirely _wrapped up_ in cloth.

We have been particularly interested in the published correspondence at the end of the volume of the various dignitaries in the political and literary world who sought the efficient co-operation of our Prince of Tailors. If dress is really an “emanation” of the soul (as well as from Mr. Fox’s “emporium”), and indicative of character, it is well to know that Mr. Fillmore’s ill-fitting garments might be owing to a judgment awry; the attenuated limbs of the British minister, which nothing had been able to hide, to a paucity of understanding; and the long neck of our New York friend, which had to be muffled, to an overreaching disposition. Who can tell?

Dress is certainly of the utmost importance to those who are conscious of no other recommendation. Diderot saw no difference between a man and his dog but the dress, and it would sometimes be hard to give a person his proper grade in the animal world without reference to his material garments, for it really does not do in our social world to follow Carlyle’s advice to look fixedly on clothes till they became transparent. It would lead to a fearful revolution in society.

Still, there are some, like Mr. and Mrs. Boffin, who “go in neck and crop for fashion,” who can bear such a clairvoyant eye. Mrs. Boffin was “a Highflier for Fashion,” but we entirely overlook that low evening dress of black sable which she does credit to (“her make is such”), in consideration of her large heart, and the affectionate readiness to salute her lord to the great detriment of her great black velvet hat and plumes.

Our author is really a phœnix sprung from the ashes of Beau Brummel.