"Man was not made for things that leave us,For that which goeth and returneth,For hopes that lift us yet deceive us,For love that wears a smile yet mournetlh;Not for fresh forests from the dead leaves springing,The cyclic re-creation which, at best,Yields us—betrayal still to promise clinging—But tremulous shadows of the realm of rest;For things immortal man was made,God's image, latest from his hand,Co-heir with Him, who in man's flesh arraydHolds o'er the worlds the heavenly-human wand:His portion this—sublimeTo stand where access none hath space or time,Above the starry host, the cherub band,To stand—to advance—and after all to stand!"
"Man was not made for things that leave us,For that which goeth and returneth,For hopes that lift us yet deceive us,For love that wears a smile yet mournetlh;Not for fresh forests from the dead leaves springing,The cyclic re-creation which, at best,Yields us—betrayal still to promise clinging—But tremulous shadows of the realm of rest;For things immortal man was made,God's image, latest from his hand,Co-heir with Him, who in man's flesh arraydHolds o'er the worlds the heavenly-human wand:His portion this—sublimeTo stand where access none hath space or time,Above the starry host, the cherub band,To stand—to advance—and after all to stand!"
These lines are the real end and culmination of a book which will, on the whole, do much to raise Mr. De Vere's reputation in this country to a level nearer his deserts. With its human share of faults, it is a truer, an abler, and a more scholarly book than often issues from an American press, and contains everywhere lofty and pure thought, with never a taint of evil, and never a morally doubtful passage. And we only wish for our country, that, of his readers, there may be many in whom these his poems may sow motives as unselfish and aims as noble as those which, we sincerely believe, inform the inner life of the true poet and Christian, Aubrey De Vere.
And, to begin with, about the poverty and vice of London! Hood and and Adelaide Anne Procter, Dickens, James Greenwood, [Footnote 61] have made these more familiar to us than the streets of our own cities. We have talked with Nancy on London bridge and skulked with Noah Claypole beneath its arches—swept crossings with poor Joe and starved with the little ragamuffin in Frying Pan Alley.
[Footnote 61:Author of a Night in a London Workhouse, and of theTrue History of a Little Ragamuffin.]
The poor of London are representative beings to us all. As we walk through the streets, each ragged or threadbare wanderer tells us a story heard long ago and half forgotten. That miserable woman huddled up in a doorway is a brickmaker's wife, and the thin shawl drawn about her shoulders hides the only marks of attention she ever receives from her pitiful husband. Her baby is dead, thank God! safe beyond the reach of blows and hunger and cold. Her story will soon be ended, if we may judge by her thin face, and the eager look in her eyes, and the short, hacking cough. The shilling you slip into her hand will only prolong her misery, but it gives you a moment's consolation, and brings a flash of gratitude into her poor face. Good-by, Jenny! When we meet you at the judgment-seat of God, we wonder if it will occur to us we might have done more for you to-day than give you a shilling and a glance of recognition.
"Alas for the rarityOf Christian charityUnder the sun.Oh! it was pitiful!In a whole city-fullHome she had none."
"Alas for the rarityOf Christian charityUnder the sun.Oh! it was pitiful!In a whole city-fullHome she had none."
We wonder if Thomas Hood was much better than other people? If he found homes for the homeless and food for the hungry? We cannot get Jenny out of our head. Her wants would be so easily supplied. In all London is there no place where lodging and fire and food are provided for the decent poor?
The portly policeman at the street corner says yes, there are several refuges, but the one in this district is kept by Sisters of Mercy, in Crispin street, No.30 or thereabouts. Asking poor Jenny to follow us, (she manifests a mild surprise at our sympathy,) we cross Finbury Circus, pass Bishopsgate street, without; and soon find ourselves in Crispin street, standing at the modest entrance of the House of Mercy. We are not the only applicants for admission this dreary November afternoon. Women with children and women without them are sitting on the steps or leaning against the wall, waiting for the hour of five to strike, blessed signal for the door to open. It is only half-past four now, says the sister portress. Jenny must join the throng lingering about the house; but we as visitors may come in and see the preparations made for their entertainment.
This then is the refuge described by Miss Procter, and her pretty garland of verses is still sold for its benefit. In 1860, there was no Catholic refuge in England, and excellent as were those supported by Protestants, they did not supply all demands. Rev. Dr. Gilbert of Moorfields Chapel found in a block of buildings, called by a pleasant coincidence, "Providence Row," a large empty stable separated by a yard from No. 14 Finsbury Square. The Sisters of Mercy were then seeking a house more suited to their needs than the one in Broad street. The two projects fitted each other like mosaic; No. 14 Finsbury Square should be the convent, the stable should be the refuge. Benches and beds were provided at first for fourteen persons only; but in February, 1861, additional provision was made for forty-six women and children. Before the month of April, 1862, 14,785 lodgings, with breakfast and supper, had been given.
But charity is as unsatiable in its desires as self-indulgence, and Dr. Gilbert's ideas soon outgrew the stable in Providence Row. The present refuge, giving accommodation to three hundred adults and children, was opened last autumn. It will be in operation from October to May of every year, on week-days from five P.M. to half-past seven A.M.; on Sundays, throughout the twenty-four hours. In this room on the ground floor, with its blazing fire, the women are received for inspection. If any one shows herself unworthy of assistance, either by intoxication or by the use of bad language, she is turned away. Without doubt many sinners are admitted to the refuge, and the sisters rejoice in being able to check their course of evil for twelve hours; but no one receives hospitality here unless she can conform outwardly to the habits of decent persons. This is the only refuge where admission depends on the good character of the applicant. It has proved an efficient preventive of the contamination so much to be dreaded whenever the poor and ignorant are brought together in large numbers.
The selection of guests being made, their dresses and shawls, wet with London fog and mud, are dried by the fire; and the fixture basins round the room are placed at their service with a bountiful supply of water.
From the inspection-room they pass to a large apartment, where they have supper, and sit together in warmth and comfort until bedtime. The supper consists of a bowl of excellent gruel and half a pound of bread for each person. It is to be observed that, though the accommodations are good of their kind, affording a decent asylum to the homeless, they are not calculated to attract those who can find comfortable shelter elsewhere.
At an early hour night-prayers are said by a sister, and the women are shown to the dormitories. The beds are constructed in an ingenious manner, economizing space and making perfect cleanliness practicable. Two inclined planes, fastened together at the higher end, pass down the middle of the dormitory. Two more inclined planes pass down the sides of the room with the higher end next the wall. These platforms are partitioned off by planks into troughs about two feet wide and six feet long, (that is to say, the length of the slope of the platform,) looking much like cucumber frames without glass. These are the beds, and at the foot of each is a little gate, which can be opened to admit of drawing out a sliding plank in the bottom of the trough. This is done every morning by the sisters in charge of the dormitories, and the floor beneath is swept. But now the little gates are closed and the beds are ready for their forlorn occupants. Each is furnished with a thick mattress and pillow covered with brown enamel cloth and with a large coverlet of thick leather. As the women go to bed thoroughly warm and wear their clothing, they sleep comfortably under these odd-looking quilts; especially the mothers, who often hold one little child in their arms while another nestles at their feet. The bedding is wiped carefully every morning, and thus the dormitories are kept free from vermin. A cell partitioned off at each end of the dormitory, with two or three windows, provides the sisters in charge with a private room and at the same time with a post of observation. The arrangements for water throughout the house are excellent, including a hose fixed in the wall of every dormitory, ready to be used in case of fire.
At half-past six in the morning, the sleepers are roused; at seven they have breakfast, consisting, like the supper, of a basin of gruel and half a pound of bread. At half-past seven, they leave the refuge, some times to be seen no more, sometimes to return night after night for weeks together. On Sunday they can remain all day. But, as persons are admitted without distinction of creed, they are allowed to leave the refuge during the hours of morning service to go to church. A short lesson in the catechism is given every evening at the refuge; but only Catholics are allowed to attend the classes unless occasionally by especial permission. They have, for their Sunday dinner, as much strong beef soup as they can eat with bread.
The arrangements for men are similar to those for women, though less extensive. The entrances are separate, and there are watchmen in the male dormitory. The refuge provides thirty-two beds for men and one hundred and fifty for women. It is by packing in children with their parents that so many individuals are lodged.
The survey of the building ended, we pass out of the front door just as five o'clock strikes, and the tattered throng, Jenny among them, present themselves for admission. This institution could be copied with good effect in several American cities. Its system of management guards against two evils. Provision being made only for the bare necessities of life, no temptation is offered to impostors. Propriety of behavior being ensured by strict surveillance, the chance of contamination is materially lessened, perhaps wholly removed.
It is no unusual thing, even in the United States, for men and boys, women and girls, to spend a night in the station-house because they have no other place to sleep. A refuge is less expensive than other charitable establishments. The first cost of a building is considerable; the annual outlay in provisions, fuel, and light, comparatively trifling. The money spent every year in indiscriminate almsgiving in a large city would serve to support a night refuge for several hundred persons. But while providing for the houseless poor of to-day, we should remember that their numbers are increasing with every successive generation. The children of our poorest class must be rescued from their present migratory life, divided between street, jail, and penitentiary.
Much has been done for girls, and we can only desire an extension of the work. With an increase of funds, the Sisters of Charity, of Mercy, of the Good Shepherd, and of Notre Dame could accomplish a mission of great importance to the future prosperity of our country. These ladies devote their lives to saving from misery and degradation the children of those who cannot or will not perform a parent's duty. They need money to accomplish this. We too often dole it out to them as if they had asked alms for themselves. Let us give them not only money but sympathy and encouragement. Many a good work has failed for want of friendly words to give the strength for one final vigorous effort.
But what is to be done for the boys? They may be divided into three classes. First, children guilty of no worse crime than friendlessness. Second, small boys obnoxious to the police for petty infringements of the laws; third, newsboys, bootblacks, and costermongers, more or less familiar with the vices of city life. The third class is developed from the other two, because neglected poverty naturally gravitates to vice and crime.
The development of a true ragamuffin is a process painfully interesting to watch. At an age when the children of the rich take sober walks attended by nursery-maid or governess, he knows the streets as well as any watchman. At seven years old, he is arrested by some energetic policeman for throwing stones, bathing, stealing a bunch of grapes, or some other first-class felony. Once in the hands of the law, there is no redress for him unless he is "bailed out." He must go to jail to wait for trial-day—perhaps three or four weeks. The turnkeys do their best for him; find him a decent companion if he is frightened, or, still better, give him a cell to himself, where he looks more like a squirrel in a cage than a criminal offender. I have seen in one day four mere babies in prison for "breaking and entering!"
But, with all the precautions used in a well-ordered jail to prevent mischief, our infant ragamuffin comes out older by many years than he went in. He has been in prison, and his tiny reputation is gone for ever. A few years later he comes back, arrested for some grave misdemeanor; a sly, old-fashioned little rogue by this time, gifted with an ingenuity fitting him admirably to be the tool of some professional thief. Then begins a course of sojourns in workhouses and juvenile penitentiaries. By and by he reappears in jail with a smart suit of clothes, the fruit of a successful burglary, and you are informed with an air of conscious superiority that this time it is a house of correction or State's prison offence. There is ambition in crime as well as in other careers, we may be sure. He grows up to be a drunkard, a libertine, a bad husband, and the father of children more degraded than himself. We know of an entire family having been in prison at one time, father, mother, and all the children.
Who is to blame for this career of vice and crime? Not the officers of the jail, who bitterly regret the necessity of receiving children, but cannot set them free. Not the judges, who are sworn to administer the laws as they stand, not to improve upon them.
The police are to blame for exercising their enthusiasm for order upon babies, instead of making examples of grown men guilty of similar misdemeanors, but harder to catch.
The public is to blame for making insufficient provision for the reclamation of juvenile offenders. Above all, we Catholics are to blame, because these are usually the children of foreign parents, and Catholics, at least in name.
Let us build an asylum in the air for these poor little urchins. Aerial philanthropy requires no funds, and very little executive ability. Who knows but our plan may be carried out in earnest, one of these days, by some Dr. Gilbert, trustful of small beginnings, and content to let his project first see the light in a stable?
We would haveone divisiondevoted to little orphans, and children whose parents are willing to resign them for a time or for ever.
A second division should be given to the infant criminals of whom we have just spoken. Their offences are always bailable. A trustworthy person should be employed to go bail for all children under ten years of age, and bring them to the asylum to await their trial. The judges gladly sentence children to serve out a term at a juvenile home instead of sending them to penitentiaries. Thus we should recover them after their trial, for a length of time proportioned to the importance of severing old associations. Their circumstances should be thoroughly investigated and reported to the judge—character of parents, place of residence, etc., etc.
These two divisions should be under the charge of female religious; with several male attendants to do menial work and enforce discipline in the few instances where strong measures might be necessary, but without possessing any authority except the reflected one of acting under the matron's orders. The necessity of vigilance can hardly be exaggerated. One child of vicious habits can corrupt many more. But since direct surveillance is irritating even to children, a routine of light and frequently-varied occupation would be found useful in giving vent to restless activity, which is at the root of many childish misdemeanors. The superintendents must learn to distinguish fun from mischief; energy from insubordination.
A third division should provide a refuge for newsboys and others of the same tribe. These older boys should be under the charge of the Christian Brothers. An evening school, a library of books such as boys enjoy, and a collection of innocent games would form an important element in the plan of management. They should be persuaded to put a portion of their earnings in the savings bank, and induced if possible to alter their roving life and learn a trade. Preference should be shown to lads of correct life over those who have been in prison, but encouragement and countenance given to every boy willing to conform to the rules of the refuge. We lay less stress upon separating the good from the bad among the lads for two reasons. A boy of fourteen or fifteen who has not been corrupted by street life must be temptation-proof. It is difficult to judge the respective merits of lads of that age or to learn their past histories. They must to a great extent be taken on trust.
In the course of a few years a fourth division would become necessary to provide for the little boys grown too old for petticoat government. This division should also be under the charge of the Christian Brothers.
The institution would be very expensive, unless it were made partially self-supporting. There is a good deal of light work connected with trades that might be done by boys resident in the house. Perhaps in time city governments would wake up to the fact that it costs less to give boys a good plain education than to support rogues and paupers; but our dream of charity is rudely dispersed by a yawn from our companion and a suggestion that we should reach Piccadilly sooner by the underground railroad than on foot. The gaslights stare despondingly at me through the yellow fog. A London Arab solicits a penny for clearing the slimy crossing, and wonders at the glow of charity with which we press sixpence into his grimy palm. Where are we? In London? Yes, but there are orphans wandering homeless about the streets of American cities, too; bootblacks going to destruction by scores; tiny children falling victims to the misplaced zeal of policemen; and not even the corner-stone of our asylum is laid!
I.
It was in the fifth watch of the first day of the year, when the winter's cold was most intense, that my tender wife died. Can there be on earth a man more unhappy than I? O my wife! if thou wert still here, I would give thee a new robe for the new year; but woe is me, thou art gone down to the sombre abode where flows the yellow fountain. Would that husband and wife could see one another again! Come to me in the night—come to me in the third watch—let me renew for a little while the sweetness of the past.
II.
In the second moon, when spring has come, and the sun stays each day longer in the sky, every family washes its robes and linen in pure water, and husbands who have still their wives love to adorn them with new garments. But I, who have lost mine, am wasting my life away in grief; I cannot even bear to see the little shoes that enclosed her pretty feet! Sometimes I think that I will take another companion; but where can I find another so beautiful, wise, and kind!
III.
In the third moon, the peach-tree opens its rose-colored blossoms, and the willow is bedecked with green tresses. Husbands who have still their wives go with them to visit the tombs of their fathers and friends. But I who have lost mine go alone to visithergrave, and to wet with my hot tears the spot where her ashes repose. I present funereal offerings to her shade; I burn images of gilded paper in her honor. "Tender wife," I cry with a tearful voice, "where art thou, where art thou?" But she, alas! hears me not. I see the solitary tomb, but I cannot see my wife!
IV.
In the fourth moon, the air is pure and serene, and the sun shines forth in all his splendor. How many ungrateful husbands then give themselves up to pleasure and forget the wife they have lost! Husband and wife are like two birds of the same forest; when the fatal hour arrives, each one flies off a different way. I am like a man, who, beguiled by the sweet fancies of an enchanting dream, seeks, when he awakes, the young beauty that charmed his imagination while he slept, but finds around him only silence and solitude. So much loveliness, so much sweetness vanished in one morning! Why, alas! could not two friends, so dearly united, live and grow gray together!
V.
In the fifth moon, the dragon-headed boats float gaily on the waters. Exquisite wines are heated, and baskets are filled up with delicious fruits. Each year at this season, I delighted to enjoy the pleasures of these simple feasts with my wife and children. But now I am weary and restless, a prey to the bitterest anguish. I weep all day and all night, and my heart seems ready to break. Ah! what do I see at this moment? Pretty children at merry play before my door. Yes, I can understand that they are happy; they have a mother to press them to her bosom. Go away, dear children, your joyous gambols tear my heart.
VI.
In the sixth moon, the burning heat of the day is almost unbearable. The rich and the poor then spread their clothes out to air. I will expose one of my wife's silken robes, and her embroidered shoes to the sun's warm beams. See! here is the dress she used to wear on festal days, here are the elegant little slippers that fitted her pretty feet so well. But where is my wife? Oh! where is the mother of my children? I feel as if a cold steel blade were cutting into my heart.
VII.
In the seventh moon, my eyes overflow with tears; for it is then that Nieaulan visits his wife Tchi-niu in heaven. Once I also had a beautiful wife, but she is lost to me for ever. That fair face, lovelier than the flowers, is constantly before me. Whether in movement or at rest, the remembrance of her that is gone from me never ceases to rack my bosom. What day have I forgotten to think of my tender wife—what night have I not wept till morning?
VIII.
On the fifteenth day of the eighth moon, her disk is seen in its greatest splendor, and men and women then offer to the gods melons and cakes, ball-like in form as the orb of night. Husbands and wives stroll together in the fields and groves, and enjoy the soft moonlight.But the round disk of the moon can only remindmeof the wife I have lost. At times, to solace my grief I quaff a cup of generous wine; at times I take my guitar, but my trembling hand can draw forth no sound. Friends and relations invite me to their houses, but my sorrowful heart refuses to share in their pleasures.
IX.
In the ninth moon, the chrysanthemum opens its golden cup, and every garden exhales a balmy odor. I would gather a bunch of newly-blown flowers if I had still a wife whose hair they could adorn! My eyes are weary with weeping—my hands are withered with grief, and I beat a fleshless breast. I enter the tasteful room that was once my wife's; my two children follow me, and come to embrace my knees. They take my hands in theirs, and speak to me with choking voices; but by their tears and sobs I know they ask me for their mother.
X.
On the first day of the tenth moon, both rich and poor present their wives with winter clothing. But to whom shall I offer winter clothing? I, who have no wife! When I think of her who rested her head on my pillow, I weep and burn images of gilded paper. I send them as offerings to her who now dwells beside the yellow fountain. I know not if these funereal gifts will be of use to her shade; but at least her husband will have paid her a tribute of love and regret.
XI.
In the eleventh moon, I salute winter, and again deplore my beautiful wife. Half of the silken counterpane covers an empty place in the cold bed where I dare not stretch out my legs. I sigh and invoke heaven; I pray for pity. At the third watch I rise without having slept, and weep till dawn.
XII.
In the twelfth moon, in the midst of the winter's cold, I called on my sweet wife. "Where art thou," I cried; "I think of thee unceasingly, yet I cannot see thy face!" On the last night of the year she appeared to me in a dream. She pressed my hand in hers; she smiled on me with tearful eyes; she encircled me in her caressing arms, and filled my soul with happiness. "I pray thee," she whispered, "weep no more when thou rememberest me. Henceforth I will come thus each night to visit thee in thy dreams."
A look and a word, my sweet lady;A thought of your kind heart, I pray,For a flower that blooms by the roadside,This beautiful morning in May.I know that engagements await you;I know you have many to meet;Yet, pray, linger here for a moment,And look at this flower of the street.'Tis but May, my sweet lady, and hardlyHas spring had the time to look bright;Yet this flower it called into beingAlready is smitten with blight.Already upon its fair leafletsLie heavy the grime and the dust;Its shrivelled and lack-lustre petals,Tell a story—stop, lady!—you must.For a soul is in danger, my lady,The soul of this drooping street flower;And you by a look can recall itTo life, or 'twill die in an hour.Ah me! if you knew but the powerOf one word of kindness from you;Could you see what a tempest of passionA glance of your eye would subdue!What hope once again would awakenTo arm this poor soul for the right!Thanks, my lady! Go happily onward,The tempted is strengthened with might.
A look and a word, my sweet lady;A thought of your kind heart, I pray,For a flower that blooms by the roadside,This beautiful morning in May.I know that engagements await you;I know you have many to meet;Yet, pray, linger here for a moment,And look at this flower of the street.'Tis but May, my sweet lady, and hardlyHas spring had the time to look bright;Yet this flower it called into beingAlready is smitten with blight.Already upon its fair leafletsLie heavy the grime and the dust;Its shrivelled and lack-lustre petals,Tell a story—stop, lady!—you must.For a soul is in danger, my lady,The soul of this drooping street flower;And you by a look can recall itTo life, or 'twill die in an hour.Ah me! if you knew but the powerOf one word of kindness from you;Could you see what a tempest of passionA glance of your eye would subdue!What hope once again would awakenTo arm this poor soul for the right!Thanks, my lady! Go happily onward,The tempted is strengthened with might.
The Formation Of Christendom.Part II.By T. W. Allies.London: Longmans, Green, Reader & Dyer.New-York: The Catholic Publication Society.
This volume is the dictation of a scholarly mind and the work of an experienced pen. It forms the second volume of a work not yet complete, the first part of which appeared in 1865. In the six chapters which composed the first volume, as the author tells us in his advertisement to the present one, he described Christianity creating anew, as it were, and purifying and introducing supernatural principles into the individual soul; showing how the new religion restored the fallen dignity of man by insisting on his individuality and personal responsibility, by consecrating the married and counselling the virginal life. The vile secrets of that viler pagan society are partly revealed, and the influence of the Gospel is shown in a graceful parallel between St. Augustine and Cicero. The author further says, that, having examined the foundations, he has now reached the building itself and comes "to consider the Christian Church in its historical development as a kingdom of truth and grace; for while the soul of man is the unit with which it works, 'Christendom' betokens a society." It is then the first epoch of such a kingdom that the author would describe in the present volume. Accordingly, we have a graphic account of the polytheism which, at the birth of Christ, reigned throughout the world, save in one of its most insignificant lands, the frightful power of this false worship, its relation to civilization, to the political constitution of the empire, to national feeling in the provinces, to despotism and slavery, and its hostile preparations for the advent of the "Second Man." Then follows the teaching of Christ and the institution of his church, a statement of the nature of the latter, its manner of teaching and propagation, its episcopacy and primacy. Then, a picture of the history of the martyr church through the first three centuries, its sublime patience under persecution, and its struggle with swarming heresies that menaced from within. After this, the author prepares for a dissertation on that strife between Christianity and heathen philosophy, which terminated on the downfall of the Alexandrian school, by sketching the history and influence of Greek philosophy until the reign of Claudius; and, reserving this dissertation for a future volume, the author closes the present number of his contemplated series. It is a serious disadvantage to any work to be published piecemeal. Nevertheless, English readers, interested in the study of the early ages, and especially those who have read with pleasure Mr. Allies's former productions, will be glad to notice the publication of this volume. But Mr. Allies's work, also, belongs to a class, small indeed, but all the more worthy of encouragement, namely, that of original Catholic histories in the English language. It is, therefore, an attempt to partially supply a want which no one book, however popular, can adequately meet. In the face of an ungrateful heathenism that to-day secretly sighs after the Augustan age, and openly asks, "What has been gained by all this religion?" daring to draw unjust parallels between the heroes of Christian tradition and contemporary pagan models, it is the duty of all who love the Christian name to encourage true historical criticism; that men may know all that they at present owe to the Catholic Church; and if they will not acknowledge her to-day as the guide to true civilization, may learn from the record of the past how her genius has presided over all that is greatest and noblest in the past history of mankind.
Thunder And Lightning.By W. De Fonvielle.Translated from the French, and edited by T. L. Phipson, Ph.D.Illustrated with thirty nine engravings on wood.1 vol. 12mo, pp. 216.The Wonders Of Optics.By F. Marion.Translated from the French, and edited by Charles W. Quinn, F.C.S.Illustrated with seventy engravings on wood.1 vol. 12mo, pp. 248.New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.
These two volumes are the first issues of the "Illustrated Library of Wonders," to be published by Messrs. Scribner & Co. They are highly interesting to the general reader, as well as to persons of scientific attainments. The accounts given of the peculiar and novel freaks of lightning are curious and instructive. The illustrations in both volumes are well executed, and make these books specially attractive to young people. In the work on optics, the telescope, magic lantern, magic mirror, etc., are fully explained.
Why Men Do Not Believe;Or, The Principal Causes Of Infidelity.By N.J. Laforet, Rector of the Catholic University of Louvain.Translated from the French.New York: The Catholic Publication Society,126 Nassau Street.Pp. 252. 1869.
Whoever has had the happiness of attending the Catholic Congress of Belgium must have noticed among the distinguished gentlemen seated by the side of the president the prepossessing, intellectual countenance of Mgr. Laforet, the Rector Magnificus of the University of Louvain. Although still a young man, he holds a high place among the writers who adorn European Catholic literature. His best known and most elaborate work is an excellentHistory of Philosophy. In the present volume, which is quite unpretending in size, and written in such a simple and easy style as to be easily readable by any person of ordinary education, he has, perhaps, rendered even a greater service to the cause of religion and sound science than by his more elaborate works. It is an excellent little treatise on the causes of infidelity, which has already produced happy fruits among his own countrymen by bringing back a number of persons to the Christian faith, and we trust is destined to accomplish a still greater amount of good in its English as well as its French dress.
Mgr. Laforet assigns as the causes of the infidelity which prevails, unhappily, to such a considerable extent in our days, ignorance of the real grounds and nature of the Christian religion, materialism, and the consequent moral degradation which it has produced. He denies in a peremptory manner that it has been caused by progress in science or the more perfect development of the reasoning faculty, and supports this denial by abundant and conclusive proofs. The origin of modern infidelity he traces historically and logically to Protestantism, showing that it has been transplanted into France and other Catholic countries from England and Germany. Anti-Catholic writers are fond of retorting upon us the charge that Protestantism breeds infidelity by the countercharge that Catholicity breeds infidelity. They say that it lays too great a burden on reason by teaching, as Christian doctrine, dogmas that intelligent, educated men cannot receive without doing violence to their reason. They point to the infidelity that prevails to a certain extent among educated men in Catholic countries as a proof of this assumption. The writer of an article in a late number ofPutnam's Monthly, entitled, "The Coming Controversy," has reiterated this charge, and alleges the fact that some of the educated laymen belonging to the Catholic Church in the United States do not approach the sacraments, as an evidence that they have lost their faith, which is a corroboration of the alleged charge against the Catholic religion of breeding infidelity in intelligent, thinking minds.The whole of this specious argument is a fabric of sand. In the first place, it is no proof that men have lost their faith because they do not act in accordance with it. The entire body of negligent Catholics are not to be classed among infidels, any more than negligent Jews or Protestants. Nevertheless, we would call the attention of those Catholic gentlemen of high standing who neglect the practice of their religious duties, and fail to take that active part on the side of the church and of God which they ought to take, to the scandal they thus give and to the occasion which the enemies of the church take from their criminal apathy to revile that faith for which their ancestors have suffered and contended so nobly. Neither is it true that anywhere in the world the apostates from the faith are superior in intelligence and culture to its loyal adherents. We hear too much of this boasting from free-thinkers and infidels of their intellectual superiority. On the field of philosophy and positive religion they have been completely discomfited by the champions of religion. Some of their ablest men have passed over to our camp convinced by the pure force of argument, as, for instance, Thierry, Maine de Biran, Droz, and to a certain extent Cousin. Many others, and recently one most notorious individual, Jules Havin, the chief editor of the infamousSiècle, of Paris, have repented at the hour of death. D'Holbach, one of the chiefs of the infidel party in France, thus writes: "We must allow that corruption of manners, debauchery, license, and even frivolity of mind, may often lead to irreligion or infidelity. … Many people give up prejudices they had adopted through vanity and on hearsay; these pretended free-thinkers have examined nothing for themselves; they rely on others whom they suppose to have weighed matters more carefully. How can men, given up to voluptuousness and debauchery, plunged in excess, ambitious, intriguing, frivolous, and dissipated—or depraved women of wit and fashion—how can such as these be capable of forming an opinion of a religion they have never examined?" [Footnote 62] La Bruyère says, "Do ouresprits fortsknow that they are called thus in irony?" [Footnote 63] It is no argument against either Catholicity or Protestantism that infidelity exists in Catholic or Protestant countries. Before this fact can be made to tell in any way against either religion it must be proved that it contains principles which lead logically to infidelity, or proposes dogmas which are rationally incredible, and thus produces a reaction against all divine revelation. This has never been done, and never can be done in respect to the Catholic religion. So far as Protestantism is concerned, it has been done repeatedly and can be done easily. We do not rejoice in this; on the contrary, we grieve over it, and our sympathies are with those Protestants, such as Guizot, Dr. McCosh, President Hopkins, and others who defend the great truths of spiritual philosophy, of Theism, the divine mission of Moses and Christ, and other Christian doctrines against modern infidelity. Nevertheless, we cannot help pointing out the fact that they are illogical as Protestants in doing this, and are unable, after giving the evidences of the credibility of Christianity, to state what Christianity is in such a manner as completely to satisfy the just demands of human reason, or to justify their own position as seceders from the genuine Christendom.
[Footnote 62:Système de la Nature, tom. ii. c. 13. Cited on page 106. ][Footnote 63:Les Caractères, ch. xvi. Cited on page 188.]
Our own youth are exposed to the temptation of infidelity on account of their imperfect religious education, and the influence of the Protestant world in which they live, saturated as it is with the most pestilent and poisonous influences of heresy, infidelity, and immorality. Good Protestants they will never become. They can only be good Catholics, bad Catholics, or infidels. Our friends of the Protestant clergy have no reason, therefore, to count up and exult over those who are lost from the Catholic fold, for Satan is the only gainer.Let us have a sufficient number of clergy of the right sort, an ample supply of churches, colleges, schools, and Catholic literature, and we will engage that the desire for a purer and more spiritual religion will never lead our Catholic youth to become Protestants, or the desire for a more elevated and solid science make them infidels. Such books as the one we are noticing are of just the kind we want, and we recommend it warmly to all thinking young men and women, to all parents and teachers, and to all readers generally.
The Montarges Legacy.By Florence McCoomb.Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham. 1869.
We thank the gentle author of this charming story for the satisfaction derived from its perusal. Not wishing, by entering into detail of plot or incident, to diminish the pleasure in store for its readers, we will merely say that, while sufficiently exciting, it is by no means morbidly sensational; that the characters are well portrayed; the incidents varied; the dialogue not strained, yet not monotonous; the descriptive portion easy and natural; and that, pervading all, is a true Catholic spirit.
Anne Severin.By Mrs. Augustus Craven.New York: The Catholic Publication Society.1 vol. 12mo, pp. 411. 1869.
We do not like the controversially religious novel. There is generally too much pedantry; too great an admixture of theology, politics, and love, to suit our taste. But the story ofAnne Severin, by the gifted author ofA Sister's Story, is not of this kind, it is permeated throughout with a purely religious feeling; just enough, however, to make it interesting, and to give the reader to understand that the writer is truly Catholic in all she writes. The scene of the story opens in England, about the beginning of this century, when there were "troublous times in France," and changes to the latter country, where the thread of the narrative is spun out. The heroine, Anne Severin, is not an ideal character. It is one that is not rare in Catholic countries, or in Catholic society. She is a true woman, in the truest sense of the word, a model for our daughters. The contrast between her and the English-reared girl, Eveleen Devereux, is clearly drawn. The one truthful, religious, conscientious in all her actions, kind, amiable, and loveable; the other, fickle-minded, constantly wavering, and a flirt, courting admiration for admiration's sake, yet intending to do right in her own way, but failing because she did not have thetruereligious teaching that Anne Severin had. No better book of the kind could be put in the hands of Catholics as well as non-Catholics of both sexes. No one can help for a moment to see in what consists the difference between these two women. Anne Severin had a positive, soul-sustaining faith to fall back upon in her troubles. Eveleen Devereux had nothing but the emptiness of a religion of the world which failed her in the hour of tribulation.
Eudoxia: A Picture Of The Fifth Century.Freely translated from the German of Ida, Countess Hahn Hahn.Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. Pp. 287. 1869.
This historical tale, which has already appeared as a serial in an English periodical, and also in an American newspaper, has been very favorably received on both sides of the Atlantic. It is now issued in handsome book form, and will, no doubt, have, as it deserves, an extensive circulation.
The Illustrated Catholic Sunday School Library.Third Series. 12 vols. pp. 144 each.New York: The Catholic Publication Society,126 Nassau Street. 1869.
The titles of the volumes contained in this series are:
Bad Example;May-Day, and other Tales;The Young Astronomer, and other Tales;James Chapman;Angel Dreams;Ellerton Priory;Idleness and Industry;The Hope of the Katzekopfs;St. Maurice;The Young Emigrants;Angels' Visits;and The Scrivener's Daughter, and other Tales.
That in the variety of its contents this series is fully equal to its predecessors is evident from the above list; and the careful supervision to which each issue is subjected renders it unnecessary to say another word in its praise. We can safely promise a rare treat to our young friends when, either well-deserving at school, or an indulgent parent, will have made them happy in its possession.
The Sunday-school Class-book.New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.
This last work of The Catholic Publication Society will be appreciated by every Sunday-school teacher who has experienced the torments of an ill-arranged and poorly-made classbook. The chief characteristics of this small but important work areclearnessandcompleteness. Its new feature is the plain, brief, but very decided rules to be found on the inside of each cover. In size it allows a goodly space for marks in detail. In binding and quality of paper, it is far in advance of anything yet offered to the Catholic Sunday-school teacher. It provides a "register" for eighteen or twenty scholars, in which should be plainly and neatly written the names, etc., of each member of the class. Then comes a monthly record, extending across two pages, in which allowance is made for "the fifth" Sunday, and a space for a "Monthly Report." And in this we have the grand improvement on all other classbooks in use.
Twelve such double pages are furnished, thus covering the space of one year; and on the last half-page there are columns provided for a yearly report, in which plain figures must be placed by every teacher to the satisfaction of superintendents, who have so often experienced the mortifying necessity of declaring teachers' methods of marking more mysterious than hieroglyphics.
What has long been needed is not a class-book fitted for the educated few who devote their spare hours to Sunday-school teaching, nor a mere record book for large and continually changing classes of beginners, but a plain, comprehensive book which any teacher can understand at a glance, and which will enable him to influence the conduct, if not the studious habits, of those committed to his charge, instead of calling for an extra waste of time, in order to mark with precision in perhaps a badly lighted school-house. Let every teacher send for a copy, examine it for himself, and see how simple this often neglected duty can be made. If the rules which are contained therein be attended to, there will be no necessity of carrying the book away from the school, which arrangement insures the double object of marking while the impression of each recitation is fresh and of having the book in readiness to mark at the next recitation. And, until every teacher attends to both these duties, in spite of qualifications in other respects, he will still have much to learn before he becomes a perfect Sunday-school teacher.
This little book is substantially bound in cloth, and is sold for twenty cents a copy, or, to Sunday-schools, at two dollars per dozen.
Studious Women.From the French of Monseigneur Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans.Translated by R. M. Phillimore.Boston: P. Donahoe. Pp. 105. 1869.
This able essay of the Bishop of Orleans was translated for and appeared inThe Catholic Worldvery soon after its appearance in France, nearly two years ago. We see Mr. Donahoe has used the London translation.