Is there an Open Arctic Sea?—Sir Roderick Murchison, who answers this question in the affirmative, gives the following arguments in support of his opinion:—(1.) The fact has been well ascertained by Scoresby and others, that every portion of the floating pack-ice north of Spitzbergen is made up of frozen sea-water only, without a trace of terrestrial icebergs like those which float down Baffin's Bay, or those which, carrying blocks of stone and débris, float northward from the land around the South Pole. (2.) The northern shores of Siberia tell the same tale; for in their vast expanse the absence of icebergs, or erratic blocks, or anything which could have been derived from great or lofty masses of land, has been wen ascertained. (3.) As a geologist, Sir R. Murchison could point out that this absence of erratic blocks in northern Siberia has existed from that remote glacial period when much larger tracts of northern Europe were occupied by glaciers than at the present day. (4.) The traveller Middendorf found the extreme northern promontory of Siberia, Taimyr, clad with fir trees, while the immense tract of country to the south of it was destitute of trees, showing a milder climate at that point of Siberia nearest the pole.
Food as a Means of Preventing Disease,—It seems not at all improbable that, as has been shown by Liebig in the case of plants, most of those diseases which we at present attribute to the presence of some morbid substance in the blood, are produced in the first instance by the absence of some of the proper constituents of the blood. The blood when abnormally composed will allow vegetable and other growths to take place in it, thus producing painful symptoms; but if it contained its suitable components, it is most probable that it would be then enabled to resist the development of the materials we refer to. In the case of the potato disease, there can hardly be a doubt that the sap becomes deteriorated, owing to the absence of the proper proportion of potash, prior to the development of the oïdium which commits such ravages. The idea which we have given has not had many advocates in this country, and we are glad to find that Mr. Erasmus Wilson has in some measure lent his support to the theory. Although Mr. Wilson does not go as deeply into the question as we should wish, still he shows that food may well be employed not only in preventing but in curing disease. If, he says, it be admitted that food is the source of the elements of which the body is composed, what kind of body can be expected in the case of a deficient supply of food, whether that deficiency proceed from actual want, or from some perverse theory of refinement, founded on a false conception of the nature and objects of food, and ignorance of its direct convertibility into the flesh and blood of man? We think Mr. Wilson is too determined a supporter of flesh-eating tastes. If he had his way, he would convert man into a decidedly carnivorous animal, and we do not think that either experience or an appeal to the anatomy of the human masticatory and digestive organs would bear out his views.—Vide "On Food as a Means of Prevention of Disease."
Are the Flint Implements from the Drift Authentic?—A pamphlet has appeared from the pen of Mr. Nicholas Whitley, of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, in which it is attempted to be proved that the so-called flint implements are not the result of workmanship. The Popular Science Review gives the following abstract of Mr. Whitley's argument: (1.) The "implements" are all of flint. The tools employed by men of the recognized archaeological stone age are made of stones of various kinds, of which there are examples of serpentine, granular greenstone, indurated claystone, trap greenstone, claystone, quartz, syenite, chest, etc. Why, therefore, [{138}] should the only weapon in the drift deposit be manufactured from flint solely? (2.) The "implements" are all of one class—axes. Were they then a race of carpenters? Man is a cooking animal; and if ten thousand axes have been found, surely one seething-pot or drinking-cup ought to have turned up. He needs shelter, but no remnant of his clothing or hut has been found. Almost everywhere where there are chalk flints we find axes, and nothing but axes. (3.) There is a gradation in form from the very rough fracture of the flint to the perfect almond-shaped implement. Let the most enthusiastic believer in their authenticity examine carefully the one thousand implements in the Abbeville museum, and he would probably reject two-thirds as bearing no evidence of the work of man. But it would be impossible for him to say where nature ended and art began. (4.) Some of the implements are admirable illustrations of the form produced by the natural fracture of the egg-shaped flint nodule. (5.) It is supposed that these weapons were used for cutting down timber and scooping out canoes. But it should be remembered that the gravels in which they are found were formed during a severe Arctic climate, in which no tree but a stunted birch could have grown, certainly none large enough to form a canoe. (6.) Their number. The implements are found by thousands in small areas, and in numbers quite out of proportion to the thinly scattered population that must have (if at all) then existed.
The Sponge Fishery.—The main industry of the island of Crete is the sponge fishery which is pursued on its coasts. It is chiefly carried on by companionships of from twenty to thirty boats, for mutual support and protection. The mode of operation preparatory to a dive is very peculiar and interesting. The diver whose turn it is takes his seat on the deck of the vessel, at either the bow or stern, and placing by his side a large flat slab of marble, weighing about 25 lbs., to which is attached a rope of the proper length and thickness (1-1/2 inch), he then strips, and is left by his companions to prepare himself. This seems to consist in devoting a certain time to clearing the passages of his lungs by expectoration, and highly inflating them afterward; thus oxidizing his blood very highly by a repetition of deep inspirations. The operation lasts from five to ten minutes, or more, according to the depth; and during it the operator is never interfered with by his companions, and seldom speaks or is spoken to; he is simply watched by two of them, but at a little distance, and they never venture to urge him or distract him in any way during the process. When from some sensation, known only to himself, after these repeated long-drawn and heavy inspirations, he deems the fitting moment to have arrived, he seizes the slab of marble, and, after crossing himself and uttering a prayer, plunges with it like a returning dolphin into the sea, and rapidly descends. The stone is always held during the descent directly in front of the head, at arm's-length, and so as to offer as little resistance as possible; and, by varying its inclination, it acts likewise as a rudder, causing the descent to be more or less vertical, as desired by the diver. As soon as he reaches the bottom he places the stone under his arm to keep himself down, and then walks about upon the rock, or crawls under its ledges, stuffing the sponges into a netted bag with a hooped mouth, which is strung round his neck to receive them; but he holds firmly to the stone or rope all the while, as his safeguard for returning and for making the known signal at the time he desires it. The hauling up is thus effected: The assistant who has hold of the rope awaiting the signal, first reaches down with both hands as low as he can, and there grasping the rope, with a great bodily effort raises it up to nearly arm's-length over his head; the second assistant is then prepared to make his grasp as low down as he can reach, and does the same; and so the two alternately, and by a fathom or more at a time, and with great rapidity, bring the anxious diver to the surface. A heavy blow from his nostrils to expel the water and exhausted air indicates to his comrades that he is conscious and breathes, a word or two is then spoken by one of his companions to encourage him if he seems much distressed, as is often the case; and the hearing of the voice is said by them to be a great support at the moment of their greatest state of exhaustion. A few seconds' rest at the surface, and then the diver returns into the boat to recover, generally putting [{139}] on an under-garment or jacket, to assist the restoration of the animal heat he has lost, and to prevent the loss of more by the too rapid evaporation of the water from his body.—Travels in Crete.
The Sun's Spots.—Father Secchi writes from Rome, under date of Aug. 8, to the Reader as follows: I thank you for the interest you take in the observations of the sun. The last large spot has been very interesting for science, and I hope to be able to publish all the drawings we have made of it by projection. Meanwhile I send you two of them, photographed on a large scale. You will see in the printed article which I send you, that I have been able to see the prominences and depressions produced by the spot at the edge of the sun; not only myself but also M. Tacchini. I regret that the shortness of time does not allow me to copy the drawings made on that occasion, but I send a copy of them to Mr. De la Rue, and you will see them. As to the willow-leaves and rice-grains question, I think, as you say, we are all right and all wrong. I will state clearly what I see. On first placing the eye to the telescope, and in very good moments of definition, the surface of the sun appears certainly to me made up of many oblong bodies, which I think are the willow-leaves of Mr. Nasmyth; their orientation is in every direction, but they take a converging direction in the neighborhood of the spots, where they form the tongues, currents, and such like. But this view is, as I said, rather difficult to obtain, and many times I have looked for it quite without success. Is this a defect of vision, or caused by the sun's changements? If by willow-leaves other things than these are understood, I have not seen them. M. Airy seems to understand other things, and then I am quite at a loss. This, therefore, is a matter very problematic, and to be better studied. By projection on a large scale in some beautiful moments of definition, these oblong bodies on the general surface of the sun have been seen by my assistant also; but generally they are not visible, but the sun appears like clouds. As to the mobility of the solar surface, you can judge from the two photographs that I send you; they have been made only at an interval of twenty-four hours. I think we assisted at the outbreaking of the spot, and at its arrangement from a great confusion of movements into a regular transformation of an ordinary group of spots. The appearance which I have seen is quite like that which takes place when a great movement is excited in a stream of running water, which finally resolves itself into some vortices which take their course independently. The movement of these spots even alone is capable of demonstrating materially what Mr. Carrington has found with great labor—that there is in the sun a real drift of matter, since without this it would be impossible to explain how the spot has been increased in two days to a length twice as great as its breadth, this remaining almost constant. But more of this in a particular memoir.
NEW PUBLICATIONS
.
HISTORY OF MY RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.
By John Henry Newman, D.D., of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri. London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts & Green. 1865. 8vo., pp. 379.
Under this title, Dr. Newman has republished the charming autobiography which originally appeared as an answer to the calumnies of Charles Kingsley, and was entitled "Apologia pro Vita Sua," republished in a neat and attractive manner by the Appletons. We earnestly recommend all our readers, whether they be Catholics or not, who have not procured and read the "Apologia," to do so without delay, if they wish to give themselves a rich intellectual treat. The American edition is decidedly to be preferred, on account [{140}] of the complete history it furnishes of the controversy with Mr. Kingsley which led to the composition of the book. In England, this controversy is already well-known to the entire religious and literary world, and may be supposed by this time to have lost its interest. Dr. Newman's autobiography will never lose its interest and value while the English language remains; and for this reason, it was no doubt a wise thought in the author to prepare it for posterity in a form wherein the local and personal controversy which occasioned its being written should no longer be connected with its proper subject-matter. No doubt, too, the author felt some reluctance to perpetuate, in close connection with his own personal history, the memory of the severe castigation which he administered to his opponent. This is honorable to his delicate and charitable sentiments. At the same time, the castigation was necessary, it was just, it was not one whit too severe, and we owe a debt of gratitude to Dr. Newman for having applied the terrible lash which he possesses, but which he employs so seldom and usually so lightly, in this case with all his strength to the shoulders of a delinquent. There is a certain small class of writers in the English Church, some of whom are Puseyites, others more or less broad in their views, who violate all the laws of honorable and courteous warfare in their attacks on the Catholic Church. They take the line of charging fraud, forgery, lying, and utterly unprincipled and wicked motives and maxims upon the hierarchy, priesthood, and other advocates of the Catholic cause. One of the first and foremost of these was Mr. Meyrick, of Oxford, the author of a disingenuous work against Catholic morals, and one of Mr. Kingsley's defenders. This work of Mr. Meyrick's was republished in this country with a more offensive preface, by the Rev. A. C. Coxe, now the bishop of Western New York, a person who has abjured all regard to the rules of common civility, both in his public writings and speeches concerning the Catholic clergy, and also in his private demeanor when he has happened to be thrown into contact with them personally. This class of writers adopt what Dr. Newman happily styles a mode of warfare which consists in "poisoning the wells." That is, they seek to forestall all debate on the merits of the Catholic question, by accusing the advocates of the Catholic side of being liars by principle and on system; infamous persons, who have no claim to decent treatment or even to a hearing. There is but one course to be taken with opponents of this sort. Argument, explanation, courtesy, are alike thrown away upon them. They must be treated like guerrillas, and summary justice must be done up on them, as the only means of self-defence, and as a salutary example to others. They must be taught that they cannot have free license to calumniate and vituperate the Catholic Church or its members with impunity. How effectually this lesson was read to them by Dr. Newman, is shown by the hearty applause which his book received from all England, the evidence of which may be seen in the review of it which appeared in the principal English periodicals.
We wish to be understood that the language we have used above has no application to any but a few offending individuals, whose spirit and manner are even more severely condemned by a large class of the non-Catholic public than by Catholics themselves. It is very gratifying to observe the respectful, moderate, and courteous tone which many of the most illustrious of the recent advocates of the Protestant side maintain toward the Church of Rome and her distinguished and worthy members. Copying after Leibniz, the greatest genius which the Protestant confession can boast of, we have, among others, Guizot, Ranke, Dr. Pusey, Palmer; and in this country, William R. Alger, who, albeit he has inadvertently repeated some of the current misstatements of Catholic doctrine, has always shown a fairness and generosity of spirit and a readiness to correct mistakes which make him conspicuous among our honorable opponents. In this species of candor and courtesy the most eminent writers of the continent are still far before the most of those in England and America. Dr. Newman himself and his compeers in the early Oxford movement, even in their strongest and most pronounced expressions of opinion against Rome and against various form of dissent, furnished the most perfect specimens of the truly Christian and gentlemanly style of polemics which English literature had yet [{141}] seen. Never was there a man who kept his intellect and his varied gifts as a writer more completely under the discipline of a strict conscience, one who was more scrupulously just and fair, truthful and frank, yet guarded and cautious, than John Henry Newman. He has the soul of knightly chivalry in him; religious, fearless, modest, and compassionate; loyal to the death to every sacred obligation, and scorning a mean or deceitful act more than common men do treason and perjury. Such a man ought to have been secure of honorable treatment; and yet he has not been spared in the strife of tongues; and if he has at last triumphed over calumny, it has only been by overpowering his enemies with the superior weight of his armor and strength of his arm, and not because his holy retirement and spotless name have been respected. However, after long years, during whose lapse the English people have disdained and slighted the man of genius and the pure Christian who is one of the greatest ornaments of their literature, on account of their intense hostility to his religion, their love of fair play, and admiration for intellectual greatness and prowess, has gained a signal victory, and we give them due credit for it. The demand for the "Apologia" on its first publication in successive numbers was so great that the Longmans were unable to keep up with it. That it has not been unappreciated also in this country is proved by the fact that four editions of the American reprint have been exhausted. Of the book itself, it is almost superfluous to speak at this late day. It will bear to be read and re-read, and the repeated perusal, instead of wearying, only brings out new charms and occasions an increasing delight. We have read and admired Dr. Newman's writings for more than twenty years, but have never so fully appreciated the wonderful subtlety and vigor of his intellect as we have done since reading his last book. It is like the keen, bright, dexterously wielded, and irresistible scimeter of Saladin. At his conversion Anglicanism lost a champion far more capable than any other of coping with its stoutest antagonists, and the Catholic Church gained over the most formidable of her foes who wields an English pen. Even as now reproduced by himself, as a mere history of the past, his method of defending the Church of England against Rome appears to us so much more subtle and plausible, and adroitly managed, not through any designed artifice on his part, but from the acuteness with which his mind detects all the most defensible points of his own position and the most assailable ones of the opposite, than that of any other writer, that we instinctively say, no man but John Henry Newman could fully refute himself. Each successive post at which he pauses in his gradual approach to the Catholic Church seems as defensible as the others which he has abandoned as untenable. At his very last halting place, he has the air of a man who is about to defend himself there to the last, and is not to be driven further. Indeed, he was not driven by any mind more powerful than his own; for although the arguments of Cardinal Wiseman had considerable weight with him, neither he nor any other Catholic writer really answered the difficulties which were in his own mind, or fully refuted, in a manner consonant to his intellectual convictions, the plausible arguments by which he justified to himself and recommended to others a continuance in the Anglican communion. He was driven only by his innate love of truth, his conscientiousness, his logical fidelity to his own first principles, and the grace of God. Humanly speaking, his conversion was one of the most unlikely events which has ever taken place. Ten years before it occurred he was at an immense distance from the Catholic Church, and advancing toward it by a most circuitous route, with the greatest apparent, reluctance. We rise from the perusal of his own record of his journey with a sentiment of astonishment that he ever reached his destination. When we remember the light in which Dr. Newman was regarded by his own school in the days of his leadership at Oxford, it appears to us that the estimate formed of him was both singularly just and singularly incorrect. It was just in one way, inasmuch as, whatever his modesty may suggest to the contrary, he was more than any other man the leader of the movement. It was incorrect, inasmuch as a far greater originative force in causing this movement and a far greater comprehension of its principles were attributed to him than he or any other man possessed. The [{142}] movement itself created its own agents, and bore them on with a power infinitely greater than they possessed of themselves. Dr. Newman was a master to inferior and more backward scholars; but was himself only a scholar, who began with the first and simplest rudiments of Catholicity. His merit consisted in this, that while many paused at various stages of elementary and partial knowledge, he pushed on to the mastery of final results and completed his curriculum. Considering what he had to learn, and that he had in great measure to be his own teacher, the space of ten years was really a short rather than a long period for the process.