disquisitions in which controversial novelists commonly delight to indulge. But it would be a great injustice to class the controversy of " Cecile" with that which forms the staple of the ordinary religious novel. The controversy of "Cecile," in truth, is rather explanatory than polemical. It belongs to a class which we would earnestly recommend to every sincere Catholic; and consists simply in a calm exposition of the doctrine in dispute, and of the leading principles upon which the belief in it is based. Instead of directly seeking to enforce conviction_upon others, it is content to explain, and perhaps to vindicate, the motives of its own; and thus while it avoids the traditionary vice of controversy-that of offending the pride and alarming the self-reliance of the enquirer-it speaks to him with all the authority of a mind at peace with itself, secure in its own convictions, and almost disdaining to offer argument to others in support of the truth which has become, as it were, a second instinct to itself.

We can only afford room for a single extract from "Cecile:" but the passage which we select will sufficiently illustrate our meaning. It regards the credit due to modern miracles, when they are attested by proper authority, and supported by sufficient evidence.

"Very possibly, my dear; but I do not exactly see the bearing of all this upon our original question. I do not pretend that we are not all of us rather too liberal in the application of the term superstition to our neighbour's belief; but though no faith admits of absolute demonstration, can we entirely resign our judgment, limited and insufficient as it may be ?'

"Not resign, dear Lady Templedale, but incline. Were I to witness myself any preternatural effect or result, I own that I should be very much disposed to conjecture rather that I was myself deluded or deceived than that the great and constant laws of nature were violated. The same most obvious interpretation would apply, more strongly still, to signs and wonders reported to me on the authority of others; and yet, I cannot forget that I may thus be led also to explain away, in a precisely similar manner, the very evidences upon which the Divine origin of our faith must ever rest. What shall be my resource against this utter scepticism on one hand, and the blindest credulity on the other? I see no safer nor surer refuge than that which I claimed for myself in the outset, the authority of the Church, discerning now, as in the earlier ages, between the impostures and extravagances of man and the true manifestations from above.'

"Yes, my dear; but we draw a distinction between the inspired ages and our own.'

"The result of which is, I suppose, Lady Templedale, that we are to disbelieve all miracles that we see, and believe merely in those that we hear of.'

"No, Mrs. Jesuit; but we are not called upon to contest those which were witnessed by an entire population, and have been recorded by the holiest of men.'

"As to the opinions of the Jewish population at large,' observed Cecile, I fear that they would stand in array rather against than in favour of our credence. Your other test, the record of holy and heaven-directed men, is to my mind the only true one, but in what does it differ from mine ?'

"Simply, my dear, because we are not at all disposed to place the same reliance in one of your Priests or Pontiffs, as in the Holy Apostles or the earlier Fathers of the Church.'

"That is a distinction that each may draw for himself, but which he may find it difficult to impose upon others. You were speaking of the inspired ages just now, Lady Templedale, can you tell me when they commence and when they end?"

"Not exactly, my dear, but I suppose that Churchmen can.' "It matters not,' resumed Cecile. You hold, at all events, that there were by-gone times whose partial or general belief is more binding upon us than that of our own. I will not inquire whether, in those days, signs and wonders were not so universally expected as to render the beholders less critical, and consequently more liable to error than ourselves. I will readily admit that some periods have been more manifestly favoured than others by preternatural testimonies of the Divine countenance, but these, we hold and trust, never have been, and never will be entirely withheld from the Church of Christ."

"Yet surely, dear Cecile,' interposed Constance, the age that was visited by the Redeemer himself-the Apostles whom he himself called, and with whom he held personal communion, may well be esteemed pre-eminently holy?'

"Pre-eminently, no doubt, my darling child, but not exclusively. You would not impugn the testimony of Paul, whom you so much reverence of two among the Evangelists-of many others whom you still designate as Saints, upon that very authority of the Church which you so indignantly reject in other matters; you would not, I say, impugn their testimony because they are not held to have been so far blessed as to have seen Christ himself. No,' continued Cecile, in a low musing tone, the more I have reflected upon the fatal differences which have so cruelly estranged us, the more I have reduced them to one alone as to the origin of all. You believe that after a certain and undefined period, all spiritual guidance from above was withdrawn from the Church, while we hold that it was promised to her and will be vouchsafed to her evermore.'

"It may be, my dear; but at all events we have thus exempted ourselves from the duty of believing in transubstantiation, the infallibility of the Pope, and other mysteries somewhat too abstruse for our homely British understandings.'

"It is singular, at all events,' remarked Cecile smiling, that the very two which you have specified are those in which we are no less clearly borne out by the Holy Text than by the undeviating authority of the Church and the still unimpaired assent of the majority.'

"The two last arguments, my dear, have not, as you know, great weight with us. With respect to the texts that you can doubtless invoke, you must remember how dangerous it may be to interpret too literally what was spoken in an essentially figurative tongue.'

666

No doubt, Lady Templedale, but recollect also, how freely the mysterious truths to which you most reverently adhere, are disposed of by others as mere oriental metaphors.'

666

"I must admit, most learned Saint, that we have some little differences to settle with the Unitarians upon that head; but that is not the question at issue between us. What I want to hear

more about is the Pope, who, at all events, is the leading subject, if he is not the supreme ruler in England now. Do explain to me, once for all, to what extent and under what conditions you recognize his infallible authority. I dare say that you have some very plausible and indeed some very philosophical exposition of the tenet to offer, if we are to judge from what we have already heard.'

66 6

'You have already heard a great deal too much, dear Lady Templedale, replied Cecile laughing: "it is twelve o'clock, and surely I may be released now.'") '-pp. 244-251.

There is not, perhaps, much novelty in the principles put forward in this interesting passage; but the manner is vigorous and original, and cannot fail to produce its effect. Indeed, we have been more than once in the reading of Cecile, reminded of the very best passages in Lady Georgiana Fullerton's admirable tale, Grantley Manor.

We must not conclude, however, without noticing a few inaccuracies (chiefly of expression,) which occur here and there in the heroine's theology. She is made to speak, for example, of the Triple Nature of God;-although in circumstances which make it plain that the error is but a verbal one. And though his explanation of the Catholic theory of mortification is perfectly correct, yet we fear his ideas of its practice have been borrowed from some unnatural and exaggerated model. The incident of the penitential bracelet, and that of the cutting off the hair,

accord but ill with the generally calm and practical character of the heroine's mind; and it is difficult to imagine a Catholic lady, speaking as Cecile is made commonly to speak, or thinking according to her habitual standard, and yet betrayed into what one can hardly call by a milder name than that of vulgar ostentatious enthusiasm, such as these incidents display.

It may, perhaps, appear ungracious to hint at any drawback on the gratification which we have derived from the perusal of this excellent and well-timed story. But

Cecile" is a book which can well afford to bear a little friendly criticism; and it would be a false delicacy towards a writer so promising, as its author, not to call his attention to defects which may be so easily remedied, which, nevertheless, for the general reader mar in no slight degree the effect of his tale.

ART. VII.—Address of the Irish Bishops on the Catholic University. Dublin, 1851.

A DOCUMENT, the production of an individual who has been wittily described by one of his friends as "equally ready at half an hour's notice to build a St. Paul's, to take the command of the channel fleet, or to superintend an operation for the stone"-a famous document, written on a celebrated occasion, has proclaimed to the world that the Catholic religion tends "to confine the intellect and enslave the soul." Even from the prime minister of a great empire, of accomplishments so universal, and assurance so complete, the accusation strikes one as bold against the religion of St. Augustine, and St. Thomas, of Galileo, Malebranches, and Vico, of Bossuet and Benedict XIV., of Suarez, Bellarmine and De Lugo. Such as it is, however, this accusation is daily repeated in one form or other, implicitly or explicitly, suggested in an inuendo, or presupposed throughout an argument, treated

as self-evident, and acknowledged as a fact shameful, indeed, and damning, but too clear for the knight-errantry of any Catholic to dispute, by almost the whole daily press of England. Lord John Russell has but catered to the popular feeling, and summed up in half-a-dozen words the sentiment of modern English journalism, of the floating mind of the nineteenth century, which oscillates between profound contempt and bitter hatred of the Catholic faith. We propose to consider the meaning and the causes of this accusation, and with the light thence thrown on the subject, to proceed to the necessity and vast importance of the promised Catholic university.

Now this accusation of loving ignorance brought against the enlightener of the nations, and of fostering slavery, brought against the bestower of true freedom of heart, and mind, and will, restored to heavenly harmony, runs up, if we mistake not, into a difference of First Principles between Catholic and Protestant. These First Principles, the very bases of our opinions and judgments, the first springs of our actions, and so the key of our moral character, are assumed and acted upon by all without proof, by an intuition of the mind, and by most men unconsciously, even to the end of their lives. Now what is knowledge, and what ignorance, what freedom, and what slavery, of the intellect and moral powers, will depend to each individual judging on a higher question; how, that is, he arranges the various divisions of human intelligence, and the relations which they bear to each other; what, again, he considers, to be the end of civil and religious polities, and of human life altogether. The lawyer has one standard, and the merchant another; the artist a third, and the philosopher a fourth; the theologian one higher than all these. Nations, again, have a various moral and intellectual guage. Millions of French peasants feel an idolatry for the memory of Napoleon, who decimated their fathers; Englishmen pay a perhaps unconscious worship to manufactories and railways, and feel a far deeper interest in the composition of the steam-engine, than in the nature of the soul; Spaniards, on the other hand, measure distances by the rosary, and salute by an expression of faith in a blessed mystery; and Italians illuminate in honour not only of the earthly sovereign, but the heavenly queen. Even in the same country and race, a different spirit prevails at dif