of the sun of justice, as manifest to this lower world through the Church.

It is not the education of one of man's faculties that makes him what he ought to be; nor can one faculty, like reason, keep his whole being, with all its marvellous complications, with its hundred-handed cravings, and its inexhaustible depth of many-coloured sympathies, steady, calm, and sustained in the furnace of man's life in the flesh. And this is not because reason, legitimately exercised, can lead to error of course not: but because reason itself is influenced, most powerfully acted on, by that vast assemblage of forces which spring up from the human compound. Why, even the very nourishment they take modifies men's views, and consequences have often depended more upon a man's cook than upon his premises. The very air we breathe, the state of the atmosphere, the circumstances of life, our position in society, some passing brightness in present circumstances, the most trivial accident, all can influence, in their measure, the human reason. If the organism of the body be so connected in its parts, that one part suffer if the other part be injured, much more is the double complication of body and soul sympathetic and harmoniously one in feeling and effect. That a man be in health the whole system must be sound. So is it with the moral man. It is as absurd to make logic the panacea for all his moral sicknesses, as to broadly assert that as long as a man can see he cannot possibly get ill. The entire spiritual man, with all his faculties, to the deepest depth of his nature, to the very sources and founts of his moral and intellectual life, must be struck through and mellowed by a power external to himself, and that power alone can be, we again repeat, the spirit of the Church ripening his whole being through the pervading and penetrating influence of a heavenly fire.

That this is undoubtedly the case, not only appears from the sympathetic nature of man, the huge subtle power of the spirit of the times which would wholly occupy him, and the dictates of individual experience, but in truth receives a powerful confirmation from the operation of the spirit acting through the Church. He who knoweth man's frame, and remembereth that he is dust," hath done none of his works in vain. In all there is a proportion between the power to be used, and the object to be affected. He does not squander away in profusion his power, any more than he throws away the marvels of his wisdom. All is done in number, weight, and measure by the All-seeing and All-wise. Look, then, on the most wonderful work of his merciful-loving hands. See what a

vast, organized, living energy He has placed over the head of man to attune him to a heavenly harmony; witness how the whole system and economy of the Church seeks out, and centres itself on the main-spring of man's moral life-the heart. Instinctively with Christ she exclaims in each of her wondrous instruments for reaching to his inmost nature, "Son, give me thy heart!" The whole history of Christ crucified is one marvellous master-piece, by which love, adoration, gratitude, desire, thanksgiving, sorrow, wonder, praise, are struck from the cords of human feeling, attuning the heart of man to that of his maker. What is baptism but the creation of a new heart; confirmation, but strength of heart; what is penance, but compunction of heart; the eucharist, but the union of heart to heart? "Dilectus meus mihi et ego Illi.” what is the spirit of God but the illuminating spirit of divine love, and Jesus himself, but a God-made-man, that with human sorrow, sympathies, and affections, He might more surely and constrainingly take possession of the heart? And why all this?-save that the heart is the centre from whence life is thrown abroad into the whole system till it invigorate with a new vitality the creature of God; save that this is the key-stone to the arch, the strong position which, commanding the whole surrounding country, is a victory and a subjugation of itself; save that thus Christ becomes possessed not only of the great thoroughfares of the feelings, but also of the leading avenues to the reason and intelligence? If you would have the mastery of a man's whole being, you must make a victory of his heart.

Now, what would be the effect of a man (even of inferior parts) fully opening his heart to the sunlight of the spirit of the Church, as manifested in her divine economy, and heavenly ordinances? Would he not naturally become instinct with her spirit, and become coloured by her light? Would not his being be an echo-faint if you will-of the Divine voice, and his heart beat harmoniously with the heart of Christ? Would not the spontaneous action of his intelligence towards Catholic truth, and those instinctive actions acquired by careful practice of a holy life, receive a seal and an illumination from that external power which not only called them forth but is their sanction? Would he not, through this instinctive harmony, naturally detect, rather by sentiment than by sight, whatever were in dissonance with the Church's spirit, and by a refinement of feeling, spontaneously start, as at a false note, when anything suddenly came across him which jarred with his normal Catholic state of mind? Would he not often experience discomfort and unrest in his nature

at certain statements which his intelligence could not detect as false, but which his instinct or educated conscience could not approve as true? Would he not occasionally surprise his friends at the accuracy of his doctrinal statements and his illogical blunders in their defence? Would they not wonder at the strange phenomena that, though his conclusions were almost invariably right, his premises were not very seldom wrong? Would not men who look down on Catholic instincts, or who cultivate what they call their reason to the disparagement of their spiritual discernment, pity or compassionate him as a poor, good fellow, who knew nothing on earth of criticism, and was only fit to say his prayers? And would they not be quite staggered and bewildered when, notwithstanding their vast powers of biblical criticism, their judicial impartiality, and their superior cultivation and knowledge of letters, they found the judgment, passed upon their efforts by the man they so contemptuously despised, endorsed by the formal utterances of a congregation, or by the infallible decisions of the Holy See? Would they not feel as the German generals did who opposed the first Napoleon, that, though he did not appear to know the rules of warfare, still, by an unaccountable instinct, he seemed always to know how to be victorious? Would they not feel it something strange and unfair, something contrary to the order of things, and the general working of cause and effect, that all their talent, learning, reasoning, and acuteness, could not land them there, where, like birds of passage, other men, of far smaller parts and acquirements, dropped down by a kind of natural sympathy or gravitation? Would they not, in a word, testify by their helpless astonishment, or half-contemptuous anger, that after all intellectual cultivation is not the only power a man may possess for acquiring spiritual and moral truth, not the one indication of the preference of God in the affairs of the soul of man; but that there is such a thing as an educated conscience, as a power of spiritual discernment, and a harmony of being with the spirit of the Church, with Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, with the holy ones of God, and with all that is elevating and purifying in religion, through which man may see far clearer than with reason the things of the Spirit? It is an error, says Dr. Newman, to make "intellectually-gifted men arbiters of religious questions, in the place of the children of wisdom."* To suppose that parts are identical with piety, or that analytical and critical processes can do the work of an exquisitely sensitive and delicately cultivated spiritual car,

*Sermons before the University of Oxford, p. 56.

is simply to imagine that one faculty can perform the function of another; because a man has acquired a scientific knowledge of the laws of sound, that, therefore, he has an "ear for music." Church history is thickly studded with illustrations of this error. Heresiarchs have not been noted as men of small ability. On the contrary, they have generally been men of considerable power and acuteness. They knew how to criticize, and analyze, and reason; they could use modern methods, live in advance of their age, bring forward proof, put down their finger on chapter and verse, and dive into the mysteries and hidden depths of the biblical criticism of the day; they knew as well as any moderns the correct value of stoical indifference and exceptional impartiality, and would appear to survey religion and morality from a higher and serener platform than could ordinary mortals, who were kept close upon the earth by the heavy and heating materials of gross flesh and blood. They were, what in the eyes of the present world would be considered, men of large minds and calm judgment, unembarrassed by the prejudices of education and unmoved by the petty littlenesses of party spirit,—men eminently qualified for the arduous task of the discovery of truth and the development of science. There was no timid piety or instinctive awe to restrain them from "rushing in where angels feared to tread." Their minds were free from all influences, save those which could be weighed out to them in the scales of logic, or could prove a direct relationship with the laws of thought. And yet, with all their ability and impartiality, they were unable to keep themselves steady in the Church of God. Indeed, they seemed to have cut their way out of her with the very instruments with which they had been entrusted for her protection. They are luminous and living satires on the all-sufficiency of intellectual power in matters of morality and religion.

Can it be denied that in the present day our danger is to hold in too high esteem those qualities of mind which seem almost inseparable from rebellion against authority, and to hold too cheap those other qualities which are invariably to be found in their fulness in God's saints, and in their measure in all His servants? Do we not lay too little stress on heavenly-mindedness, on interior piety, and union with God in prayer and contemplation? Do we not partially forget how fire ignites fire, and that to be united to Christ is to partake of Christ's spirit? Do we not forget that right feelings are unspeakably important helps to the right exercise of reason? Do we not forget that God, and God alone, can absorb the whole complexity and intensity of our affections, and

the deeper we are rooted in Him, the more firmly shall we stand, and draw of His power into the very principle of our lives? Do we not forget that not reason, after all, but love is power; and that many a man has died because he loved, but no man has ever sacrificed his life for a logical conclusion? In a word, do we not think too lightly of those Catholic sympathies and instincts of our nature which are rooted in the love of God, and should spread themselves abroad, like the sap of an invigorating life, through every portion of our beings? These are times in which we should be specially certain of our moorings. We live in slippery days. The world is strong, and encompassing, and constraining. Its breath, the spirit of its life, can be absorbed into the very pores of our moral and spiritual man, and can effect the tone of our minds, and the colouring of our lives, as some withering blast, which, as it passes, dries up and scorches every living thing. Our protection against this spirit must come from one who is not ourselves. It must come from without; it must operate upon us within. It cannot be man; therefore it must be God. God warming, invigorating, illuminating, casting the Brightness of his reflexion into the soul of man, and attuning his intellect, will, and affections into ineffable harmony with the Blessed Three in One.

ART. V.-CROMWELL'S CONQUEST AND SETTLEMENT OF IRELAND.

The Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland. By JOHN P. PRENDERGAST, Esq. London: Longmans.

T five o'clock on the evening of the 10th of July, 1649, a great crowd of soldiers and citizens, of Puritan ministers and members of Parliament, was assembled in front of Whitehall, to see the new Lord-Lieutenant, General Cromwell, begin his journey for the seat of war in Ireland; and for many miles out of town, while the sky grew dusk over heath and common, the westward road was scattered with curious country-folk, watching the grand procession pass towards Windsor, under the setting sun. His Excellency went forth, it is related in the Moderate Intelligencer of that week, "in that state and equipage as the like hath hardly been seen a state and equipage that may have contrasted