year, cheap as they are; if those few were simple, healthful, natural stories, built on a profound study of human nature and acknowledging the faith and morals of the Church, with a glad loyalty, nay, illustrating both as with the pencil of the artist, I cannot but think that it would be a great benefit. And could it be that under the forms of fiction might be inspired some horror at the persecutors of of the true religion, some sympathy for the sufferers for conscience' sake, if some principle of morality could be persuasively recommended, some institution of the Divine Author of religion set in a light of simple experience before the hitherto prejudiced eye, which would never glance at an argument-that would be a benefit, and one that a Catholic philosopher ought not to despise.

There is no greater mark of a shallow intellect than to overlook the importance of little things—no more certain note of folly than to trample on the immemorial instincts of the human race, all of which have a use in the wisdom and plan of God. It is a common, and in fact a Puritanical error to suppose that religion, because it does not rest upon the natural sentiments, can dispense with their aid or is bound to reject it. The weakness and inconstancy of man need every kind of support. The experiment of educating children by reason alone, without the allurement of reward or the terror of punishment, has uniformly failed. The mass of grown people, even of Catholics, in like manner, cannot be trusted to the simple influence of duty in the presence of temptation. It is very well to recommend people to read the lives of the saints instead of the pernicious novels of the day, but a vast number will certainly not take the advice, and would it not answer a good purpose to put into their hands some interesting but sound and healthy story, (if we can obtain such,) and say, “There, read that!"

Thus far I have considered all fictions as belonging to the same class, as if there were no difference of kind between them. Yet the difference is really immense between a novel-a high wrought tale of passion and incident-and a simple story -between a romance by Balzac or George Sand and a tale of Canon Schmid or Hendrick Conscience. The one may be condemned on principles which do not apply to the other, yet they are both fictions. When novels are reprobated then, it is to be understood that a particular class of fictions is meant, not fiction in general, which would be absurd. The beautiful story of Ondine by La Motte Fouqué is a fiction written by a Catholic too:-who would ever think of confounding it in genere with the Notre Dame of Victor Hugo? It is here, in distinguishing between kind and kind, as in most cases of morals, that the true solution of this question is to be found. The critic who coarsely condemns fiction in the gross, instead of applying the rules of moral discrimination, enlightened by faith, to draw a clear, practical line between the innocent and the pernicious, the laudable and the immoral fiction, between the impassioned and exciting romance, (which may always be pronounced dangerous at least,) and the simple tale of real life, full of natural pathos and humble wisdom, instructive and entertaining at once—such a critic, I say, betrays extravagance; he does not treat human nature with that respect and tenderness, that consideration and indulgence, which the Church always shows in her dealings with it. The bow can't be bent so far without breaking. It is really a matter of great importance that we should have well-written, interesting, thoughtful, (if you please) imaginative stories, of a good moral tendency, and, so far as they go, Catholic, at least written on the assumption of the Catholic faith being true, to put into the hands of young people, and of those whom you cannot prevent reading fiction, do what you will. You cannot expect that such stories will be produced perfect at once, or that they will be free from grave faults of a literary, or

even of an ethical nature. This is inevitable, from the defective literary cultivation among us in proportion to our numbers and intelligence, and from the influence of the Protestant atmosphere by which we are surrounded, which some of us may have 'freely breathed and inhaled from infancy. I think that attempts of this kind should be treated with great indulgence, where a good motive is evident, even although the execution may not be very brilliant. The manner in which some well-meant efforts have been trampled literally into the dust, I can never approve of. I do not think that this ruthless severity with young and perhaps female writers is likely to elicit or to encourage talent. There are some intellectual constitutions, indeed, of that stubborn and elastic vigor, with such a healthy root of self-complacency or selfconfidence, that they only rise up against this harshness and develop new forces under aggression. You will never hurt them by your criticism, however unrelenting, nor even by an affected and supercilious contempt. They will turn on you with suddenness, retort your sarcasms, expose the weakness of your analysis, and laugh at your pompous magisterial decision. Such people may fairly be left to take care of themselves. But I have known a person of more sensitive temperament, and rendered still more susceptible by her sex than by her really graceful talent, quite extinguished as a writer, (where she might, if encouraged, have been useful in time,) and actually hurried to the grave, by a thoughtless, over-caustic critique of her first work.

To conclude, (as it is high time I should,) the question," Are we to have fiction?" may be answered unhesitatingly in the affirmative. We are to have it, and we ought to have it—but of the right kind. It may be some time yet. We await some gifted and at the same time simple-hearted writer, with a rich fund of Catholic principles and of human sympathies, able to touch the chords of feeling and yet incapable of abusing his power, with a talent in subjection to faith, a genius inspired by charity. There cannot be a doubt that such a writer would do a great deal of good, and negatively prevent a great deal of mischief. His writings would supply a great want. In the mean time, those who possess any measure of this exquisite talent, must do what they can, remembering that great writers are formed by degrees, one succeeding another with an added perfection and augmented power, so that each of us may be contributing by every sincere effort to form the style of him or her who is destined to surpass us all.

CIVILIZATION AND THE CHURCH.-II.

TRANSLATED FROM THE CIVILTA CATTOLICA.

I. THE first mistake of the world in censuring the Church for not being a civilizer, is, as we observed, a confusion of ideas. It believes erroneously or pretends to believe, that the civilization which it prizes and desires, should be obtained through the labors of the Church.

Returning to the proper conception of this divine institution, we have showed how the direct action of the Church is in reality nothing else than the sanctification of souls ordained to the glory of God: for such is the end for which Christ came upon earth: such the mission given by Him to the apostles: such the fruit for the production and ripening of which the sacraments, the ministry, the hierarchical power of the Church have been established. Hence we inferred, that, if civili

zation means perfection, the Church is essentially a civilizer; but a civilizer of an order superior to the human, that is, of a divine order: since the excellence to which she elevates man, is divine. This excellence is not apparent, indeed, because entirely interior and dwelling in the innermost recesses of the soul: "all the glory of the king's daughter is from within."-Ps. xliv. Although some rays burst forth in the multiplied acts of heavenly virtue, for" in golden borders she is clothed around about with varieties:”—ibid.—yet this beauty is concealed altogether or almost entirely from the dim and misty eyes of the world, which can only perceive what is material and noways superior to the bearing of the senses. But what of this! The chief thing is, that in the eyes of faith the slightest acts of humility, mortification, charity, performed under the influence of the grace which we receive in the Church, are inappreciable: so that in comparison they surpass immensely the most glorious undertakings, which belong to the merely natural order and form the admiration and the astonishment of the world.

If virtue and the distinct and active knowledge of our duties form the most vital elements of all human culture, the Church is necessarily a civilizer, because the establishment, the increase, the efficacy of this moral order are the objects of her direct and unremitted attention. With respect to the material or merely speculative order, we cannot promise ourselves from the Church any other than an indirect and secondary influence, that is, so far as this order is united with the primary one, as a means or a subject, in which the moral order shines forth exteriorly. And here we were obliged to distinguish this part, which is necessarily connected with the direct action of the Church, from the other, which is only partially connected with it. As to the first, we have seen that one of the effects inseparable from the action of the Church, is a moderate progress, which must arise in the inferior order, on accouut of her exterior and sensible worship, or of her organization as a visible society and moral body, or of the scientific and literary qualifications which she requires in her ministers.

As to the merely earthly grandeur, the development of profane sciences and arts, civil and political institutes and ordinances, national greatness, refinement of manners or comforts of life, that may or may not consist with orthodoxy of faith and rectitude of action, we remarked that it is a strange folly to expect such things directly or absolutely from the Church, when they have their origin in the natural activity of man, and are not necessarily connected with purity of faith or sanctity of life. This order of goods having a natural relation, not to the beatitude of a future life, but to the felicity of the present, the procuring or promoting of them in society belongs not to the action of the spiritual but of the temporal ministry; we mean that it is the scope and object of the vigilance and care of the state, whose proper duty it is to provide for the earthly prosperity and happiness of the people. We added, however, that the Church, even in this case, may have a powerful influence, by inspiring minds with the sublimity of her views, strengthening the will by the courage she infuses, elevating the end of human action by pointing out the glory of God, or directing its movements that it may not wander into the excesses of vice beyond what is lawful, or making everywhere predominant the element of virtue, which converts every kind of material increase into its own nourishment and a means for vaster and more splendid exterior operations. This is all the Church can do, and we repeat it here, that a clearer and more distinct idea of it may be impressed on the minds of our readers. Now, it is plain that the Church exerts her action at the present day as she always did, in the spiritual order, and in the material order also, so far as it is connected with the spiritual. She cannot

therefore be accused of not promoting civilization. But, as at other periods her influence contributed to merely human and material improvements, it is asked why that influence does not produce the same results now? The world complains of this, forgetting or dissembling the real cause, which is its own rebellion.

The Church no longer produces in our age the effects which were visible at other times in the work of civilization; she no longer gives birth to those grand achievements which rendered other epochs so famous and glorious. Very true :-let us grant the proposition. But what is the cause of this change? This is the real question; on this the whole discussion turns. Does it proceed from any change in the maxims of the Church, from a different direction given to its action, or from any wasting away of its virtue? It would be a very great folly to indulge such an opinion. The Church believes and professes to-day the same truths that she believed and professed from the beginning: her present faith is only her ancient inheritance. She has added nothing, subtracted nothing: nor can it be otherwise, if the word of Christ is true. The direction then of her movement is the same as it was in the beginning, that is to convert hearts to God. The contrary is not conceivable: because the action of an operative being is moved and directed by the person, and the personality of the Church is Christ himself, of whom she is the mystical body.-(I Cor. vii: Eph. v.) As long then as Christ does not change his views or intention, the Church will be immutable in both. And hence also it follows that her virtue must be always vigorous with eternal youth, for the source whence it flows never grows old, as it is Christ himself. He "remains with her all days even to the consummation of ages,”—(Matth. xxviii, 20,)—and by her means continues the work, for which He was sent among us by His Father.-(Jo. xx, 21.) Hence the action and virtue of the Church are not only directed and assisted by Christ, but more properly are the action and virtue of Christ himself, which operate invisibly by means of His visible body, to which He has given the form of the Church: exactly as the action of our animated body is not that of the body itself, but properly of the soul, which gives the body life and uses its members as so many instruments to which it communicates its virtue. Hence the failure, of which we have spoken above, cannot be attributed to any sterility that has blasted the operative virtue of the Church, for it is certain that this virtue is without any intrinsic change, the same now that it always was.

Whence then, it is asked, proceeds this failure? It proceeds from the lamentable apostasy which has separated human civilization from the Church. The Church at other times directed and promoted it. Why? Because in the ages of faith, it was pleased to submit to her action, strengthen itself by her divine conceptions and and draw life from her supernal inspirations. Every thing in those days was in some manner sacred: every thing had some relation or connection with the interests of religion and received its impulse and direction from religion. The voice of a Pope was enough to set Europe in motion and hurl it upon Asia, not to avenge the rape of a Helen, or to twine a wreath around the brows of some conqueror; but to free a Christian nation from the fury of Mahometanism and redeem the sepulchre of a God made man. The diadem did not rest upon the head of monarchs if the sacred chrism had not first impressed upon it a character of sanctity, which, consecrating them as defenders of the Church and of the poor, rendered them venerable in the eyes of their subjects. In social quarrels the pontiff's sat as umpires, at one time between people and people, at another between people and prince, and again between prince and supreme ruler: to which dignity belonged in a particular manner the defence of Christianity. The first political body of the state was com

AL

posed of bishops: the canon laws were above the civil: the administrators of justice referred to councils, in order to learn there principles of right and the manner of dispensing it among the people.

"The judges and fiscal agents, by a decree of our most glorious prince, should be present at the assembly of the priests that they may learn how kindly and justly they should act with the people. For according to the royal admonition, the bishops are the inspectors of the manner in which the judges should act with the people, so that after having admonished them, they may correct them or in their audiences of the prince make known their perverseness."—(Conc. Tolet, iii, c. 18, apud Harduin, t. iii, p. 482.) Such was the ordinance published in Spain in the name of the holy king Reccaredus. And to adduce an example from France and Germany also, Carloman decreed in his Capitularies: "We wish and command that all from the lowest to the highest, should obey their priests, both of the higher and lower orders, as God, whose representatives they are. We command therefore that all should obey them, as much as possible, in the execution of their ministry and the coercing of the wicked, of sinners and of the negligent. Those then, who should be found, which God forbid, negligent or disobedient to them, must know that they cannot retain any honors in our empire, even though they be our children, nor hold any place in our palace, nor any society nor communion with us nor with ours, but rather shall suffer punishment in great severity and rigor.... and also shall be censured as infamous and manifest reprobates, and their houses shall be confiscated and themselves be sent into exile."—(Capit., t. i, an. 805, apud Baluzium.) From Germany St. Henry, emperor, wrote to Pope Benedict VIII, in these terms: "All that your paternity has established and reformed by the synod for the necessary good of the Church, as a son I praise, confirm and approve. ... and thus before God and the Church, confirm as a thing, that is to remain forever and always to be regarded among the public rights and solemnly to be inscribed in the human laws.”—(Labb. Con. t. ix, p. 831.) Such was the spirit that originated; such the direction that promoted civilization in the middle ages. A spirit and a direction which she usually maintained and preserved, until the enemy of all good succeeded in sowing the tares of Protestantism in the evangelical field of European nations. Actuated by this spirit, the power of civilization was everywhere felt. The universities, created for the most part by the clergy, were governed by ordinances sanctioned by the Church and depended often on the popes immediately. Education was entrusted to sacred ministers to religious orders were entrusted the care and administration of the public institutions of Christian charity: the industrial and mechanical arts, even commerce itself was impressed with a sacred character and under the guardianship of a heavenly protector. Nay, more; even the profession of arms was consecrated by religion and the sword was girded on in the temple by the hand of the priest, who reminded the new knight of his obligations to God and bound him by solemn oath to use these arms for the defence of the Church and the guardianship of the weak and oppressed. In fine, all the social institutions had a religious sanction, a sacred seal, a Christian appearance. The earth, although distinct from heaven, was not divorced from it, but rendered subordinate to it. Material interests were united with the spiritual: the present life was considered as a ladder to the future. And so was verified in all its fulness that prophetic voice of Isaias: "And gentiles shall walk in thy light and kings in the brightness of thy rising."-(1, 3.)

In those times, indeed, men would have had a right to ask, what is the Church doing? What impulse does it give to civilization? What beneficial effects, what grandeur does she transfuse into it? If this had been asked then, all the nations