Gospel, the second Epistle of St. Peter, the Epistle of St. Jude, the Revelations, or the second and third Epistles of St. John, as is here presented for the supremacy of the Pontiff of Rome? I answer fearlessly—and this answer I give after having for years studied, and carefully, too, the evidence for the canonicity of the sacred Scriptures named-that there is not as much evidence for those sacred Scriptures as has been offered to the reader in favour of the authority of the Pontiff. Deny, then, the force of this latter evidence, and what do you do? You undermine the authority of the Scriptures themselves, and sap, as far as you can, the foundations of Christianity. For give up the Scriptures, and the rationalist will easily show you how you cannot stop fairly there. You will be forced to deny and to deny, till the whole of revelation is abandoned. It seemed a little thing to a certain person to deny that God had made the flea; after this admission he was induced to deny the creation of the fly by God; and thus, by little and little, the Manichæan persuaded him to deny even the creation of man himself by the great Creator! Infidelity in one point begets, if things are pushed to their legitimate conclusions, a general infidelity. Where such results do not follow, this is to be ascribed either to a merciful interposition of Providence, or to a want of logical inferences."

Protestantism, however, hates logic, as the devil hates holy water. It abhors a consecutive series of syllogisms, and conceives itself justified in maintaining, that an argument is worthless in favour of Rome, which is irrefragable in favour of England. Look where you will into its varied systems of belief, you will find that they are based on assumptions with respect to history, and theories as to moral evidence, whose invalidity they ceaselessly proclaim in their controversies with Catholics. When will the day come when they will apply to the "Romish controversy" (as they call it) the principles of one of their own greatest men, the author of The Analogy, and learn that consistency is one of the first duties of every rational being; and that the very same proofs which establish the truth of Christianity, and the authenticity, genuineness, and inspiration of the Bible, establish the claims of the Pope? When will their eyes be opened to the dread but inevitable alternative, Atheism or Catholicity?

Some of the best portions of Mr. Waterworth's book are his exposures-always temperately, though forcibly and lucidly expressed-of the astonishing inconsistencies of men, who can so interpret the history of the relations between England and Rome as to see in it a disproof of the claims of the latter, and also a proof of the claims and religion of the former. On one of the most popular of these historical fallacies-the condition of the British Church prior to the mission of Augustine-we particularly recommend his sketch of the period, and the para

graphs with which he from time to time sums up the arguments, and points out their real force as bearing upon the Catholic controversy. Not less complete is the facility with which he disposes of the occasional ebullitions of passion and worldliness on the part of English Catholics of later dates, so far as they claim to prove any thing on the question of the supremacy. No man can read Mr. Waterworth's history of the relations between the pontiffs and the kings and people of this country without perceiving that, unless all history is a falsehood, there never was a period before the Reformation when the whole principle of the Papal supremacy was not universally admitted by the English Church, however violent may have been the storms of rebellion which now and then darkened the atmosphere.

Another useful feature in Mr. Waterworth's work is its incidental exposure of the incredible coolness with which popular writers and speakers pervert the sayings and deeds of antiquity to a purpose the very opposite of that which was designed by their authors. Such is the interpretation of the first article of Magna Charta: "The Church of England shall be free, and enjoy her rights and liberties inviolate." Preachers and platform-orators tell their dupes that these words were directed against the Pope; but the fact is, they were directed against the King.

Without, then, pledging ourselves to an entire agreement with every little detail of Mr. Waterworth's views, and especially taking exception to his note on the deposing power at pp. 298, 299, we have no hesitation in saying that his work is a most valuable contribution to the history of our country; and so far as those for whom it is specially designed are concerned, the only fear we have to express is, that they will be afraid to read it. Apart, moreover, from its controversial merits, the student of ecclesiastical records will find it an agreeably written and instructive manual, on one of the most important branches of history which can engage the attention of an English or Irish Catholic. We trust that the Society of Jesus, of which Mr. Waterworth is a member, and which has given to the world such a prodigious number of books, exercising so powerful an influence on the religious and miscellaneous literature of the last 300 years, will be among the most fruitful workmen in the creation of that store of EnglishCatholic learning and disquisition to which we look forward with hopeful eyes.

MUSICAL CRITICISM: BEETHOVEN'S MISSA SOLEMNIS.

Modern German Music. By H. F. Chorley. 2 vols. London: Smith, Elder, and Co.

THE fine arts have now two sorts of professors, the talkers and the doers. Among the musical professors, we have not only to reckon the artist who composes the wonderful sonata in X sharp, but also the other more wonderful artist who explains it: we have our artists who can talk beautifully of Beethoven, and who can say fine things about Bach; just as among our architectural and pictorial geniuses we must now reckon Ruskin, who is a greater hand at making talk on these matters than at making things to talk about. This we take to be a new feature in the arts; not that they have not had their historians and their classics, but now-a-days there is a regular art-literature, a branch of imaginative and quasipoetical writing, which seeks to express music in words, and to tell us the colour and the moral qualities of sounds and measures. Old writers on art think it enough to chronicle the practical parts of the matter, and to give rules for the manipulation. Nothing can be more simple and straightforward than Lanzi or Vasari. The new ones indulge us with mystical symbolism, which usually covers nothing but sentimental nonsense or the most outrageous philosophical absurdities.

The great folly of these men is, that they substitute art for religion. Instead of men's works and their consciences being holy and pure and good, all that our art-writers want now is, that their "utterances" of the " spirit of art within them" should be so. A musician may be too much given to his glass or to his money-bags, or he may be a very monster of selfishness and jealousies; but our writers delight in finding the "compensations" in the holy harmonies he has written, in his chaste instrumentation and his generous rhythm.

We are most of us sensible enough of the absurdities of this sort of thing. We should none of us, now-a-days, have our misgivings whether it was of any use for a priest to preach at all, if he would do so in a stole with shovel-ends, or to pray and say Mass for the conversion of England, if he was vested in a French cope or a chasuble of the fiddle-pattern. But have we not seen" Anglican" clergymen who thought they were advancing the kingdom of God by singing the Gregorian tones

with the orthodox flat leading-note, while they despised as a reprobate the evangelical who did not like the devil to have the best tunes, and therefore sang his Easter hymn to the air of "Pretty, pretty Polly Hopkins?" Are there not still among them some who almost identify Gothicism with Christianity; or who think, at any rate, that here in England, in this climate and latitude, it is Popish or pagan to worship God in Italian buildings with square windows or round arches? All this must come originally from the monstrous art-heresy of our days, which confounds art with religion, which makes people think they have done a good work in listening to music which touches their feelings, and call it "utterances of heaven," "voices borne from clouds of glory," "chastening and sanctifying echoes of purity and eternity," &c.; and which, therefore, necessarily and logically goes to make rigid distinctions in the arts, and to call not only subjects, but the modes of treating them, secular or religious, profane or divine. A certain class of feelings is supposed to be naturally religious, another class naturally profane; and the inusic which is most consonant to such feelings is profane or religious accordingly.

Now this is a great fiction: it is not our feelings that are religious or otherwise, but our application of them; and with this application of them music and her sister arts have nothing whatever to do. Those feelings and passions that have some chord that vibrates in unison with musical expressions may all be readily turned to a religious end; but music by itself, apart from its associations, only enlarges the base of the feeling, it does not point the apex. It may powerfully move the feelings of grief, of joy, of quiet gaiety, or of noisy strife; but all these feelings are quite without an object, unless something be associated with the music to direct the otherwise blind impulse. And we take it, that it is only on the ground of association that some music is sacred and other music profane: if it could be proved that David danced before the ark to the tune of one of Strauss's waltzes, would not our public be nearly unanimous in classing it among sacred compositions?

All music excites; but no merely musical excitement is either religious or profane in itself. If there were no unbecoming memories of the ball-room, the theatre, and the public-house parlour, any music would receive all necessary religious character by simply being used in the services of the Church; but, in fact, the unbecoming memories just mentioned are stronger than the present pomp of function, however imposing; and all persons (except good monks and nuns, who have forgotten, if they ever knew, such associations) would

be shocked and scandalised at hearing "Jim Crow," or the last polka, resound from our organs or our choirs.

It is only through this power of association that we can recognise the propriety of separating the sacred from the profane styles in music. Any other principle of division is found to fail in fact. Some people go back to the Gregorian tones and melodies; but there was a time when fast young men in Roman and Greek cider-cellars roared out their Anacreontics to no merrier tunes. Others think Palestrina's style to be the ideal of church music; yet wherein do his madrigals, and the music which he set to profane and licentious words, differ in form or in melody from his masses and his motetts? We have sat by people at concerts who have supposed all slow movements to be sacred; and the feeling is rather general, that musical sanctity depends on the beats of the metronome; can there be greater nonsense? Others think that all sacred music should have a certain smack of antiquity. Certainly one has a right to require that it should not have the odour of the contemporary stage or ball-room. But any one will own that Handel's opera-songs, and most old dance-music, would now-a-days be good for psalm-tunes and anthems, simply because they do not resemble the modern secular style. Still, antiquarianism cannot be the test of sanctity, or we might rule that all music was sacred that could be proved to have been written by professors in pigtails.

For our own parts, we think that all music may be accounted to be sacred that fulfils two chief conditions: to be not violently profane in its associations, but, on the contrary, to be as religious as possible in them; and secondly, to be not frivolous and thoughtless, but well planned and studied. If neither of these conditions are violated, any music may be pronounced to be fit for religious use. If there is now a style of melody and cadence, of ornaments and harmony, that suggests and represents the tender and amatory feelings, we think it partly proceeds from association; the amatory melodies of the last century do not produce the same effect on us as they did on our fathers; probably our children will experience the same thing with regard to the tunes to which the lover of the nineteenth century expires. There may be measures which the artistic ear recognises at once as luscious, melting, enervating; and rhythms and harmonies which the same ear perceives to be strong, manly, solemn, inspiring, or religious: but we think it is often because the artist mistakes feeling for religion, that he can call one style religious, another irreligious. If the tenderest pathos, and the most sentimental and ravishing expressions, are in place in the services