remaining sterile and unable to create-the gift of imagination. As Aristotle long ago remarked, the power of "translating, translating," or of expressing things by images, implies the power of seeing likenesses, and is not only the most important of the means of giving dignity to language, but is the sign of the highest mental ability. It is not too much to say that all the grace and beauty of style is derived from metaphor; not necessarily from long or elaborate similes; but from that continued play of analogy and that unflagging "translation" of abstract notions into beautiful concrete shapes, so well suited to the apprehension of natures made up, like man's, of spirit and matter. The Conferences of Lacordaire are treasures of effective tropes. They contain all kinds. There is the word which at first sight seems a synonym, yet which conveys a slight nuance that gives colour to the original conception. There are names so felicitously chosen, carrying with them light and giving life to the inanimate conceits for which they stand. Again, there are the more strongly coloured epithets, sometimes single words, sometimes extending to a phrase, that let in sunshine and fragrance, as when a window is opened on a summer morning. Lastly, there are the formed comparisons, or the completed figures, that stand out from the pages like etchings by a master-hand-rolling paragraphs of sonorous words, in which, as the ear takes in the phrase, the eye sees successive outlines rise and colours deepen, till the orator's ideal is before the very sense, and the sense of the hearer thrills with the experience of beauty, whilst his intellect rejoices in the clearness of the truth. But the style of Lacordaire is far from being effeminately beautiful, or from presenting the studied grace and cadence of an Isocrates. His power is more conspicuous than his attractiveness. For the sake of power he does not scruple to sacrifice perfect art; and in the determination to be forcible, he cares little for polish of style. What is the secret of his force? The ancient writers on style, after exhausting their rules and devices for metaphor and antithesis, talk of a third quality, which they call "energy.' What is the exact analysis of energy? Energy is precisely what most strikes the reader in all that Lacordaire has left. It is not exactly swiftness; yet swiftness and dash of language are a part of it. It is not exactly weight; yet there is a momentum there, and a force of impact, that nothing but weight can give. At one time it seems to be the force of imagery. At another, it is the earnestness that breathes in every phrase. Then it appears to resolve itself into his wonderful gift of suiting the word to the occasion. And then again we think it must be the conversational turn of his language, the lively flow of interrogation, the flash of striking antithesis. The truth seems to be that force in oratory, as in other things, is the result of two factors, the weapon and the arm that wields it. The orator's weapon is the truth that he utters, considered relatively to the souls that are to receive it. His arm is himself and his personal qualifications, chiefly manifested at the time of speaking. His weapon is the train of ideas that he invents -for every man has to make his own ideas, and by no means finds them ready made; his arm is the soul or conviction that he throws into them. Of Lacordaire's ideas, their sources and their especial character, we have already spoken. His arm, that force of soul that he inspired them with, a force of which he says such great things himself, was chiefly, and so far as it can be distinguished from the expressed ideas themselves, their actual delivery to his audience. In delivery there are two forces: first, the manifestation of the moral character of the speaker; secondly, the impression produced by his physical gifts, such as voice, look, gesture, and the rest. His moral character, with all its devotedness, thoroughness, love of the beautiful and love of souls, shines transparently in the greater part of everything he spoke. To give the reader an idea of his personal presence in the pulpit, we can only endeavour to translate the vivid description given by M. Delpech,* and so conclude. In the perspective of the pulpit, what struck the spectator most was the orator's commanding appearance. In the distance his delicate features showed only their grander lines, accentuated and severe. The lightning of his look, too piercing under other circumstances, was there subdued and moderated. Under the folds of his mantle, the thin figure seemed to acquire robustness and strength. He seemed taller than nature. At first sight one experienced the surprise and attraction combined that are often felt at the sight of a strange and strong nature. This impression was increased by gesture, voice, elocution, and, generally, by his whole attitude. His gesture was at once instinct and reflection. Calm at first, slow, selfrestrained, impressive, he grew with the subject. Suddenly, the arms opened in a cross, or perhaps described a vast curve. Emotion, deep and heartfelt, had inspired the gesture, and sustained and explained it. His action had a moral value. Soul and body acted in concert. In moments of pathos the hands moved in rapid and uncertain agitation, and seemed to scatter on the hearers the flame of a torch; and the hand seemed then to radiate a light that crossed the lightning of the eye and traced around the head what might have been the aureola of a prophet. Lacordaire's voice had not those soft and delicate tones that fill a small space with their charm and effect, but are lost in a large one. Clear, incisive, susceptible of force and of passion, his voice grew gradually more ferventdeepened into emotion-rose in power, agitating and carrying on the hearerand in moments of grief thrilled in vibrations that were as piercing as a sob or a sigh. It was not naturally a pleasing voice, but that was soon forgotten * Quoted in Foisset, ii. 528. in the power and truth of the elocution. At first there was some degree of hesitation, but the stream flowed freely as emotion rose, and rushed on faster and faster; then, as the torrent seemed to culminate, it would sometimes suddenly subside and be lost, as though it had disappeared in an abyss. The articulation of the last words was then so agitated and so rapid that they could scarcely be caught. One might have said that the word, hardly able to keep up with the flight of the thought, had let itself be carried away and barely touched the lips in its passage. Such was his action, partly calculated, partly the effect of sudden inspiration, but always profoundly sincere. His movements were not always unpremeditated and involuntary, but always natural. It was not an affair of learning by heart; it was a soul; and this soul, to use his own expression, would break like a tide through the walls of the flesh, and cast itself, reckless and desperate, into the soul of another. ART. V. THE ASSUMPTION OF THE BLESSED Theses Dogmatica de Ecclesia ejusque Capite et de Homine, necnon Theses The Pope and the Council. Rivingtons. 1870. IN. By JANUS. Second Edition. London : N our short comment of January last on the chapter of "Janus" which treated of the Assumption of our Lady in connection with the Vatican Council, we expressed the hope of being able to return to the subject at greater length in April.* The pressing urgency of other matters obliged us to forego carrying out that intention both in April and July. Now, however, that the great question of Pontifical infallibility has been happily settled, we are able to redeem our promise. * DUBLIN REVIEW, Jan. 1870, p. 246. Our chief inducement to treat the subject is the desire of joining in the devout wish and hope, which many of the faithful have expressed, that the Holy Council, now sitting, may judge it fitting to crown the edifice of Mary's glories by the dogmatic definition of her Assumption into Heaven. And here, at the very outset, we are met by an objection too important to be passed by without some notice. "When," it is asked, "has a definition of faith been a luxury of devotion?" Has the Church ever precisely declared her faith except when forced to do so by noisy innovators asserting a place within her pale for their soul-destroying heresies? What have we done that we should be forced to carry burdens which our fathers could not bear? In answer to this objection it might be said that not very long ago a dogmatic decree was actually put forth on a point which had never occasioned shipwreck of souls by the sin of heresy, and which at the time of its definition was practically acquiesced in by all, and speculatively doubted by very few. No heresy called for the settlement of the question of the Immaculate Conception; no violent commotion of spirits within the Church demanded an immediate solution. On the contrary, when such a commotion existed, no final step was taken; those who pressed for a decision were put off and even silenced. It was when all discussion, within and without the Church, seemed to be over, that the Holy See took up the question and defined it once and for ever. Or, again, to take an example from the primitive Church, it might be said that the Apostles' Creed was formulated without any external pressure. To this day, what heresy, or sect, or school, has made for itself a place in history by denying the article "I believe in life everlasting"? But suppose there never had been a definition of faith which had not been, so to speak, wrung from the Church against her will-is that, per se, any reason why the same line of conduct should always be pursued? Is there anything in the nature of things to keep the Church ignorant of her faith until somebody shall have opened her eyes by denying it? Or, have heretics a prescriptive right to be satisfied, and are the faithful always to remain in ignorance, or doubt, or at best, opinion, as long as they remain faithful? But in real truth the fact is this: when a more precise definition of doctrine comes upon the mind with a jar, as a restriction of liberty, to be borne with indeed, but not loved; as a novelty, hitherto rejected, to be acquiesced in as a pis aller; as a something, in short, which enforces a change of mental attitude; then it is easily understood why the multiplication of definitions of faith should be deprecated. But when new definitions are regarded as accessions to our knowledge of divine things, as firmly-fixed stepping-stones by which we mount to a more extended view of the kingdom of heaven, then are they to be hailed with delight, and received as precious foretastes of the heavenly vision, when we shall see Almighty God as He is, and "know Him even as we are known." L'appétit vient en mangeant," wrote "Janus" with a sneer. And why not, we may reply, provided the fare be good? Doubtless there is a sense in which the faith of Christ is a yoke to the intellect, just as the law of Christ is a check upon the will. It would be just as reasonable to desire the boundaries between good and evil to be left undefined, as those which separate truth and error. To assert the right and advantage of being allowed to think wrong is no more rational than to assert the right and advantage of being allowed to do wrong. Even if, therefore, a decree on the Assumption were no more than a "luxury of devotion," we should make no apology for expressing a craving for such delicacies. But, of course, it is nothing of the kind, as will be seen in the sequel of this article. The work, "De Corporea Deiparæ Assumptione," is the most considerable written on the subject in anticipation of the Council. It is full and well-ordered, but the author's critical and logical faculty seems to us hardly on a par with the extent of his reading. The S. Beuno's "Theses" have already been noticed in our pages. Those on the Assumption are so apposite to our present purpose that we cannot fail to gratify our readers by printing them below in extenso. They express * DUBLIN REVIEW, Oct., 1869, p. 482. † De Gloriosa Beatæ Mariæ Virginis in Coelos Assumptione. Thesis XCIII. Quum juxta Apostolicam doctrinam, Rom. v. 12; 1 Cor. xv. 24-26, 54–57; Heb. iv. 14-15, aliisque locis expositam, triplici victoria de peccato, et de peccati fructibus, concupiscentia et morte, quasi ex partibus integrantibus constituatur ille triumphus quem de Satana antiquo serpente, Christus retulit: et quum in Protevangelio Gen. iii. 15, Beata Virgo exhibeatur singulariter associata in hoc triumpho Filii sui: non dubitamus quin in eodem oraculo, eadem Beata Virgo præsignificetur eadem triplici victoria insigniter illustris : atque adeo, sicut de peccato per Immaculatam Conceptionem et de concupiscentia per Virginalem Maternitatem, ita et de inimica morte singularem triumphum relatura per acceleratam ad similitudinem Filii sui Resurrectionem. Id quod ex speciali unitate carnis, Christum inter Ejusque Matrem, novam accipit illustrationem. XCIV. De hac Immaculatæ Virginis Resurrectione et in Coelos Assumptione, antiqua est utriusque Ecclesiæ recepta traditio; in quam servandam, rei manifesta cohærentia cum aliis Beatae Virginis prærogativis, carentia reliquiarum et sepulchrum corpore Virgineo vacuum conspirabant. Quod si in Ecclesia Occidentali aliquando hæsitatio quædam exstiterit, occasione, ut videtur, Decreti Gelasiani de libris apocryphis, ea tamen non obstante, antiqua sententia talem nacta est a pluribus sæculis consensum, ut a Theologis communiter habeatur pro certa; pro definibili; de qua dubitare Catholico nefas sit; immo non desunt graves auctores qui eam ut jam de fide habeant. |