the left, and increasing steadily, though imperceptibly, its beneficent flood

"As, fed by many a rivulet,

Our lordly Shannon flows."

There has been an illustration of this in the difficulty which the Bennis collection has experienced in finding "a local habitation" in the native city of its collector. Many similar benefactions, large and small, will no doubt be made to our Library during each decade of its lifetime. On this point I would invite the attention of the Library Committee to two precedents which seem worthy of imitation. The Scotch Universities formerly enjoyed the privilege of obtaining on demand a copy of every book published within these realms. This right was exercised in very unequal degrees: for when it was abolished in 1835, and compensation granted in proportion to the actual loss sustained, Aberdeen was ordered to receive only £320 a year from the Consolidated Fund, while Glasgow was rewarded for its diligence in dunning the booksellers, with an annuity for ever of £707. From this "modern instance" may be drawn as a moral this "wise saw”—“ Ask as a favour whatever you have the faintest chance of getting, and demand as a right whatever you have the smallest right to." The other hint is suggested by Sir Thomas Bodley, one of whose first cares was to furnish his great Bodleian Library with a handsome volume wherein to record gratefully every donation, and so hand down to posterity a tradition of gratitude towards the donors.

It would be a blessing if all classes, high and low, could be provided with better means of amusing themselves rationally. You have heard of that king of France who "with fifty thousand men marched up the hill and then marched down again."

And is it pastime meet for all our fine young men

To stroll up George's-street and then stroll down again?

By keeping this Library open every evening it is sought to benefit those who, after their hard day's work is done, have no club to turn into, no place in which to spend their evening agreeably, except such places as leave anything but agreeable reminiscences behind themplaces from which many a good poor fellow reels home with difficulty to a bare enough fireside, to wake up next morning with an aching head, a remorseful conscience, an empty pocket, and a heavy heart.

"All's well that ends well;" and, in this season when all the world is beginning to gather round the cradle of our Infant Saviour, how can we end better than by yielding to the genial influence of the holy and kindly Christmas spirit, and in this spirit wishing to each other and to all who are dear to us, and to all around us, rich and poor, those who can help others to be happy and those whose Christmas depends so much on the charity of such hearts as oursto all of these, and to ourselves, and to all that interests and concerns. us, including even this Public Library now inaugurated-wishing (if libraries are not capable of a merry Christmas) at least many a useful and prosperous New Year.

THE RELATIONS OF THE CHURCH TO SOCIETY

BY THE REV. EDMUND J. O'REILLY.

XV. OBEDIENCE DUE TO THE POPE (continued).

IMMEDIATELY after the words just quoted, Mr. Gladstone adds: “I must confess that in this apology there is to me a strong, undeniable smack of Protestantism. To reconcile Dr. Newman's conclusion with the premises of the Vatican will surely require all, if not more than all, the vigilance, acuteness, and subtlety of the Schola Theologorum in its acutest member."* What precisely Mr. Gladstone means by" this apology," whether it be the whole of Dr. Newman's letter to the Duke of Norfolk or his restriction of the supposed absoluteness of the obedience defined to be due to the Pope, is not perfectly clear. But, as Mr. Gladstone has been just speaking of Dr. Newman's "exceptions to the precept of obedience," I will take his criticism here expressed as directed mainly, at least, against the restriction. alluded to. This being supposed, we may inquire whether the "smack of Protestantism" lies directly in the liberty taken-as he conceives -with the meaning of the Vatican definition, by diminishing the stringency of that meaning, or in simply asserting the right of conscience to decline, in certain contingencies, obeying the Pope's commands; in other words, whether the resistance imputed is to the definition or to the Pope's possible orders. I should say rather the former. But, in reality, there is no smack of Protestantism in either. Not in the first, because the pretence that the Constitution asserted a duty of absolute obedience in Mr. Gladstone's sense is perfectly groundless, and the denial of such duty implies not the smallest violence done to the definition, nor the smallest explaining away of its force. Not in the second, partly as a consequence of what has been said about the first- inasmuch as this definition does not stand in the way-partly because the Popes do not pretend to be free from the danger of giving wrong commands in particular instances, and do not ignore the rational rights of conscience.

As we have come upon conscience and its rights, I will say a few words on this subject, which has been already so ably and eloquently dealt with by Dr. Newman. There is no need of repeating his statements, unless where this may be unavoidable on account of their connection with what I am going to add. What, then, is conscience? It is a practical judgment concerning the lawfulness, or unlawfulness, or obligation, of doing an act which is in one's power, and of doing or not doing which there is question at the time. Under the name of an act I include an omission, which, in moral matters, is equivalent to an act. The act may be internal only-for thoughts are acts-or external also, and speaking is of course comprised.

Conscience, I have said, is a judgment. It is, therefore, its

* "Vaticanism," p. 69.

act, an act of the mind, and lasts only while it is being produced. This is, strictly speaking, the case. Yet conscience is spoken of as a permanent thing, and this not without reason. For these judgments are formed by an enduring faculty; they belong to a special department of the understanding. Then, there is a continuous series of them; they are, besides, remembered, recorded, and reproduced on the recurrence of similar circumstances. Still, in rigorous philosophical and theological language, conscience means a judgment, a dictate, a passing act of the mind. This, however, does not detract in the least from its authority or influence or efficiency; for if it were conceived as something permanent, its whole force would be in its operation, its actual exercise. It is a practical judgment. practical in the last degree. It does not regard general rules, categories of cases, abstract questions. It views each action as clothed with all circumstances of time, place, and the rest. It is each one's own and nobody else's. My conscience is confined to myself. It is concerned about my own actions alone, it regulates my actions alone. I may have duties with regard to others and with regard to their duties, but my conscience exclusively governs my duties, taking in, of course, those duties of mine about others and their duties. My conscience tells me, on each given occasion, that I may do this, or that I may not do that, or that I am bound to do one thing or abstain from another, always in the present circumstances. My conscience does not pronounce on what is generally allowed, or forbidden, or required, because that is not its business, but on what is allowed, or forbidden, or required in my regard at this time.

This conscience, this judgment, is either correct or incorrect, either in conformity with the truth or not-in theological language right or erroneous. My conscience may tell me that I am justified in doing what in reality is prohibited and in itself wrong. In this my con

science errs. The error is perhaps one which I have at present no means of correcting; I am not in a position to find out the mistake. If so my conscience is said to be invincibly erroneous; not because there is nowhere in this world a good reason to confute and overcome it, but because there is no good reason at this moment within my reach, because I have no doubt or suspicion which, being properly attended to, would lead to the correction of my judgment. An invincibly erroneous conscience holds to all intents and purposes the place of a right conscience. It affects the person and his conduct precisely in the same way, and if any conscience can he safely followed, so far as moral rectitude is concerned, it can. We shall see a little more about this presently. In the meanwhile, I merely state that an invincibly erroneous conscience holds the place of a right conscience, and some would simply call it a right conscience. Where the error admits of correction, not only in itself—which is very little to the purpose-but on the part of the person, when he has the practical opportunity and power of understanding the real condition of things and substituting a true dictate for the false one, the case is altogether different. It would be a great mistake to imagine that one is justified in doing whatever he in some kind of way

thinks is proper. There are nndoubtedly those who do what they well know to be wrong, and here there is no delusion. But men often too take for granted or persuade themselves that they may act in a way they are not warranted to act. They may say with truth "I think this is lawful," and yet they have no business to think so. Their conscience is vincibly-culpably--erroneous No one is ever justified. in acting against his conscience, neither is a man always justified in following it, but may be bound to correct it. Where the conscience is right or invincibly erroneous-and therefore for practical purposes right -it is a safe guide; not, if it be vincibly erroneous.

All that I have been saying is true and certain, and held in substance by all Catholic Theologians. But why is it so? Let us look to the reason of the thing. Every moral agent must have a rule to go by in everything he does: he must have an immediate rule, a proximate rule, a rule that comes quite down to himself and his action. No number of distant, remote rules will do. They may be sound and good in themselves, but they are of no use unless insomuch as they are applied. Now this application can only be made by the understanding of the man concerned. It is by each one's understanding that his will is to be directed, and conscience is the dictate of the understanding as to what it is just now right or wrong for the man's will to choose. If he had no knowledge he would not be responsible, and he is not responsible beyond the limits of his knowledge. Whatever is outside of that is to him as if it were not. is responsible to the extent of his practical knowledge of duty, and this practical knowledge of duty comes to him from his conscience. This is why conscience cannot be lawfully gainsayed. This is why a right conscience must be followed; and the same is true of an invin- . cibly erroneous conscience, because, like that which is every way right, it is the last resource he has. Not so with a vincibly erroneous conscience, because there is yet another conscience-a right one-which tells him he must reform the mistaken one.

He

Conscience is not a legislator nor a law. It is a judgment, not an arbitrary judgment, but a judgment according to law and according to evidence, as the decisions of judges and juries are supposed to be. And, in truth, forensic judgments afford a very good illustration of the office of conscience in every man. It is the business of the practical reason-the practical department of the understanding-to ponder the law, divine and human, which bears on each particular detail of conduct, to observe well the facts of the case, and apply the law to them; and the resulting determination as to what may, or ought, or ought not, to be done is precisely the conscience of which we have been speaking. The more important the matter is the greater care should be bestowed on the process-the deliberation premised to this judgment. The knowledge of the principles on which such judgments depend is permanent, more perfect in some than in others, according to their ability and education; but all are bound to keep themselves informed proportionally to their condition and circumstances, and, in particular instances of special moment, care ought to be taken to learn more, and counsel sought from those who are

qualified to give it. Conscience dictates that all this should be done. Conscience is ever a work pronouncing on our proposed acts or opinions, and, among the rest, telling us what we must do to have our conscience what it ought to be. To put the thing in correct but unusual terms, which I have already employed, one conscience prescribes how we are to form another.

Conscience is not a universal instinct which intuitively discerns right from wrong. There is no universal instinct of this kind. There are some things manifestly right and others manifestly wrong. There is also, in many particular instances, a rapid and almost imperceptible process of reasoning which brings home to a man the duty of doing or avoiding certain acts, and the result is a strong dictate of conscience. There is, besides, a moral sense which, especially when it is properly cultivated, helps us to discern good from evil, and this is closely connected, and more or less identified, with conscience. There is often, also, a rectitude of purpose, a love of virtue and hatred of vice that serves to guard against serious mistakes in moral matters, but this is for the most part the effect of grace and of a good use of it. The regular working of conscience is of a business-like character. It is a deliberate sentence pronounced in a cause sufficiently heard and weighed. The hearing and the weighing often take but a short time, and do not need more, because we are familiar with the principles and their application, and with the facts too. But in obscure or complicated questions of conduct, especially where the issue is momentous, we may not go so quickly. Even in easier instances it would be dangerous to rely on certain inclinations of the mind which may in reality come from prejudice, or passion, or self-love and self-seeking, or from false principles that have been unwarily adopted. We are familiar with the saying that the wish is father to the thought. It is equally true that the wish is not unfrequently father to the conscience.

Conscience, as I have said many times over, is a judgment. It is not a law, still less is it a legislator. It presupposes laws, it is bound to recognise whatever laws bind the man whose conscience it is; for, as has been stated, every man's conscience is his and no one else's. We are bound by laws of several kinds; by the Natural Law; by the revealed Law of God-which repeats much, and, in a certain sense, all of what already belonged to Natural Law, and adds other precepts -by the Laws of the Church and of the Pope, whose laws are laws of the Church; by the Laws of the State. The authority of the sources whence these laws emanate is established partly from reason, partly from revelation. The laws themselves are known by means of the promulgation suited to each class respectively, and by the intimation which reaches each person, and gives full efficiency in his regard to the promulgation. For a law may be promulgated sufficiently to invest it with the character of a law, which it would not otherwise have, and may be unknown to me; in which case I am accidentally exempt from the obligation of obeying it, though I may be truly said. to be subject to it, and, in many instances, the validity of certain acts of mine before God or man may be affected by it. The laws of all kinds to which I am subject and which are sufficiently known to me