should differ, not in matters of detail, but in its fundamental principles; a view which, intellectually speaking, is below contempt, unless either it be denied that clerics and laymen have one common nature, or else it be assumed (which is really the assumption) that the moral excellence of one class should be measured by a different standard from the moral excellence of the other. Or, again, in the various discussions about mixed education, it is often taken for granted that religious instruction and training is but one part out of many; instead of being the one foundation, on which all must be built under pain of the whole edifice being unsound and rotten. But why dwell on individual questions? Look at the highest spheres of nonecclesiastical action and speculation respectively, the sphere of politics and the sphere of philosophy. Both these regions are in open and flagrant rebellion against God and the Church. It is held unconsciously by many, and actually expressed by some, that the politician, as such, has no concern with man's supernatural end, and that the philosopher, as such, has no concern with revealed doctrine.* The Holy See of late has been especially energetic against both these malignant errors. Gregory XVI., in his well-known Encyclical "Mirari vos," declares authoritatively (in the words of a canonized predecessor), that "the power and authority" of princes is "conferred on them, not only for the world's government, but, most of all, for the Church's protection." And the present Pope has repeatedly and most earnestly inculcated the obligation incumbent on philosophers and philosophy of rendering to the Church due submission. It is with very deep truth, then, that an able writer in the Civiltà (of whose paper we give some analysis in our present number) places in close juxtaposition, two orations delivered almost contemporaneously to Catholic audiences, the one by M. de Montalembert at Malines, the other by Dr. Döllinger at Munich. Both these orations tend to disparage -we need not here determine precisely to how grievous an extent the Church's legitimate authority, whether in politics or in philosophy.

For ourselves, however, we regard the philosophical movement with immeasurably greater alarm and consternation than the political. No one, indeed, can condemn and repudiate

* It may, perhaps, be better here to explain. No one pretends that either political action or philosophical speculation is directly under the Church's authority; but both are indirectly under it. The politician, in his political capacity, is bound to defer to the Church so far as his measures affect the welfare of souls; and the philosopher, in his philosophical capacity, is bound to defer to the Church so far as his speculations affect revealed doctrine.

more unreservedly than we do M. de Montalembert's whole principle on "the liberty of worships." But, in the first place, a man's view of such matters is almost or altogether apart from his interior life; and even a saintly person, under invincible misapprehension, may hold such opinions. But further, the evil work of de-Catholicizing civil society has been now so completely wrought out in far the largest portion of Europe, that the question at issue rather concerns our theoretical estimate of the past, than our practical provision for the present. It may be said indeed (and truly) that the French orator's principles imply the civil tolerance of such errors as the religious sense of Europe would still repudiate; of sects, e. g., which might be started on the basis of polygamy or of atheism. But M. de Montalembert is far more given to action than to speculation; and his Catholic instincts would assuredly save him in practice from any such blunder. Indeed, remarkably enough, in his Malines orations, he excepts from his proposed liberality all sects which should deny God's existence or run counter to natural morality; in other words, he excepts all but those who are tolerated already in far the greatest part of Europe, and with whose external liberty in such regions no Catholic dreams of interfering.

But the other case is widely different. The pursuit of secular science on the principle of disregard to ecclesiastical decisions eats like a canker into the whole substance of a man's religion. We have seen that the number of philosophical tenets is enormously large, which lead by legitimate consequence to denial of this or that Catholic verity; what safeguard, then, can be imagined against an inquirer embracing some of these tenets, if he makes it his very principle to disregard those ecclesiastical declarations which condemn them? Here, then, we have to suppose a man engaged in active philosophical speculation, who still believes in Catholicism, but who holds also certain philosophical tenets, which in their result are antagonistic thereto. He has, of course, started on a road which has no end except apostasy. At what pace he advances along that road, will depend on the degree in which he unites intellectual keenness with spiritual obtuseness; but every day will bring him nearer to his unhappy goal, unless God give him grace to retrace his steps and renounce his fundamental principle. He naturally tries every attainable method to relieve himself from the burden of two contradictory convictions; and so gradually sinks from bad to worse. First, he refuses to believe any Catholic doctrine which is not strictly defined. Next, as to the defined doctrines themselves, he more and more chooses to confine his acceptance of them to the lowest sense which

their words will grammatically bear, instead of studying the Church's full intention. Then a current of thought finds outward vent, which has long been silently proceeding; and he both thinks and speaks of the Church's rulers with compassionate contempt. He regards them much as he might regard Balaam's ass: they are made the organs of a divine utterance, he thinks, at certain very wide intervals, but are otherwise below the ordinary level of humanity in their apprehension of God's works and ways. It is difficult to know how long this state of mind can last; but one would think the time could not be far distant when he will find himself in a direct opposition to the Church's teaching which no sophistry can gloss over, and be confronted with the awful alternative of total retractation or undisguised apostasy.

It may be said, perhaps, that deplorable as such an exhibition may be, at least but very few are exposed to these awful perils, and that in this respect political liberalism is far more disastrous than philosophical. But, on the contrary, "the instructed minority" exercise an enormous influence on man's destiny; a degree of influence which is not exaggerated, we believe, by the said "instructed minority" themselves, or by Sir J. Acton as their mouthpiece. It is not the effect produced by them on their contemporaries which is so formidable, but the effect produced in forming the convictions and maxims of the rising generation. And no doubt it is a sense of this which animates Catholic authorities in the movement now proceeding in so many different parts of Christendom-nowhere more than in Rome itself for elevating ecclesiastical education in its intellectual aspect. It is this, we are convinced, next to directly spiritual means, in which the true remedy is to be found for evils whose fearfulness and imminence it is difficult to exaggerate. It will be a very great boon also if (as the Civiltà article induces us to hope) these controversies may lead to a renewed cultivation of the scholastic theology. We are confident that neither scriptural, nor patristic, nor historical studies, necessary as they are, can produce their due result, unless built on the scientific mastery of dogma. Now, as the Civiltà writer most truly remarks, the scholastic cannot be called the best scientific theology taught in the Church, simply because she neither teaches nor has But we are wandering to a theme. ever taught any other. which would require an article for itself.

The mention, however, of the Civiltà leads us to one final consideration, deeper than any which has preceded. "We have learned," says the writer in question very opportunely, "not from the scholastics but from the Catechism, that the end

for which man was placed in the world is to save his soul, and not to construct linguistic science, historical criticism, and biblical exegesis." The certain and unfailing result of intellectual rebellion is practically to forget, some go the length of explicitly denying, this foundation of all; and such a fact not only throws men into direct antagonism with the Church's spirit, but takes from them all power of appreciating (even if they wished it) her maxims and demeanour. It is said (we know not how truly) of Mr. Telford, the eminent engineer, that in his view rivers were created for the one purpose of feeding canals. According to him, then, each individual river is more excellent of its kind, more perfect, more admirable, in proportion as it is better adapted to fulfil this the great end of its existence. If such were really his whim, it would follow, as a matter of course, that whatever judgment he formed on the relative excellence of rivers was simply untrustworthy and ridiculous; in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it would be absurdly wrong, and if in the hundredth it happened to be approximately right, this circumstance would be due purely to accident. In like manner, if any one goes astray on the first principles of human conduct-if he is at sea as to the very end for which man was created-every judgment which he forms will be absolutely worthless, whether on human action itself or on the efforts put forth by the Church for directing it. When an uneducated rustic can form a just criticism on the poetical beauty of Hamlet or Faust, then (and not till then) will it be worth while to listen to our poor blinded intellectualist, when he expresses his judgment on the maxims and policy of the Holy See. Such men have already pronounced on the Church the very highest eulogium which it is in their power to pronounce, when they have expressed a severe censure on her rules and principles and a kind of compassionate contempt for her divinely appointed pastors.

ART. IV.-FROUDE'S HISTORY OF ENGLANDMARY STUART.

History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Death of Elizabeth. By JAMES ANTHONY FROUDE, M.A. Vols. VII. VIII. Reign of Elizabeth, Vols. I. II. London: Longman. 1863.

Marie Stuart et le Comte de Bothewell. Par L. WIESENER, Professeur d'Histoire au Lycée Louis le Grand. Paris: Hachette. 1863.

The History of Mary Queen of Scots. By F. A. MIGNET. 2 Vols. London: Bentley. 1851.

La Persécution Religieuse en Angleterre sous le Règne d'Elisabeth. Par l'Abbé C. J. DESTOMBES. Paris: Lecoffre. 1863.

NE of Dr. Donne's many quaint and pithy sayings was to

the effect that a man may, if he choose, be his own sunshine or his own umbrella: meaning that it depends upon ourselves to make for ourselves, by a vigorous effort of will, whatever atmosphere, moral or material, we desire; and that, within certain limits, the mind possesses the power of deciding for itself under what aspect it shall view any person or thing which may be presented to its notice. The intellectual or moral versatility thus indicated, provided it be held under due control, is, in some respects, and especially as regards the maintenance of individual tranquillity of mind, a valuable quality. But it is a most perilous ingredient in the character of one who assumes to be the instructor of others; and it is particularly dangerous where the instruction regards, not opinions, but facts, and where the question which is to be investigated is the truth or falsehood of these facts, as they are in themselves, and not as they present themselves to the mind of the narrator. And there is no department of literature in which this elasticity of the perceptive faculty is fraught with consequences so fatal as that of history. The historian's mind ought to be a perfectly colourless medium. The first condition of his success is that, in considering his facts and his authorities, he shall divest himself of his own moral individuality. The phenomena of historical science are purely objective. There is no such thing as subjective historical truth.

We are speaking, of course, of the process of investigation, and not of the results. A perfectly colourless result would probably be far from desirable, even were it practicable. But, speaking humanly, it certainly is not practicable. The mind VOL. III.—NO. v. [New Series.]

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