diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/53935-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/53935-8.txt | 57163 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 57163 deletions
diff --git a/old/53935-8.txt b/old/53935-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 70168df..0000000 --- a/old/53935-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,57163 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Volume 5, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Catholic World, Volume 5 - -Author: Various - -Release Date: January 10, 2017 [EBook #53935] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOLUME 5 *** - - - - -Produced by Don Kostuch - - - - -[Transcriber's notes: This text is based on text and image files -from the Internet Archive and -http://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/moajrnl/browse.journals/cath.1867.html. -Page numbers are shown in curly braces, such as {123}. They have been -moved to the nearest sentence break.] - -{i} - - The Catholic World. - - _Monthly Magazine_ - - of - - General Literature and Science - - ------ - - Vol. V., NO. 25 - April to September 1867. - - ------ - - New York: - - The Catholic Publication House, - 126 Nassau Street. - ---- - 1867 - -{ii} - - John A. Gray & Green - - Printers, - - 16 & 18 Jacob Street, New-York/ - -{iii} - - Contents. - - Athlone and Aughrim, 119. - Ancor-Viatt, a New Giant City, 135. - An Old Quarrel, 145. - A Naturalist's Home, 189. - Animals, The Souls of, 510. - Americus Vespucius and Christopher Columbus, 6ll. - An Irish Saint, 664. - - Birds, Architecture of, 349. - Bible, Protestant Attacks upon the, 789. - Bride of Eberstein, The, 848. - - Church and State, 1 - Conversions to the Catholic Church, Dr. Bacon on, 104 - Conscience, The Revenge of, 236. - Catholic Doctrine and Natural Science, 280. - Cousin, Victor, 338. - Church and the Roman Empire, The, 362. - Christianity and Social Happiness, 414. - Congresses, Catholic, 433. - Crucifix of Baden, The, 480, 672. - Catholic Church and Modern Art, The, 546. - Christianity and its Conflicts, 701. - - Decimated, 794. - - Early Rising, 754. - Eberstein, The Bride of, 848. - - Father Ignatius of St. Paul, 174. - Father of Waters, The, 354. - Flavia Domitilla, The Two Lovers of, 386, 529, 651, 815. - Fathers of the Desert, Sayings of, 814. - - Godfrey Family, The, 34. - - Holy Sepulchre, Procession in the Church of, 232. - He went about Doing Good, 258. - - Ireland, Invasions of, by the Danes, 768. - Ireland, The Churches of, 828. - - Lady of La Garaye, 227. - Lectures and Conferences among the Ancients, 289. - Libraries of the Middle Ages, 397. - Lorraine, Lakes of, 522 - - Miscellany, 140, 284, 428, 570, 714, 856. - Mediaeval Universities, 207. - Mercersburg Philosophy, 253. - Mortality of Great Capitals, 422. - Minor Brethren, The, 495. - Marriage, Indissolubility of, 567, 634. - Moore, Sir Thomas, 633. - Missionary Journey in South America, Scenes from, 807. - Miner, The, 852. - - Paris, A Talk about, 97. - Père Hyacinthe, Sketch of, 382. - Papacy Schismatic, Guettée's, 463, 577. - Plants, The Struggle for Existence among, 538. - Procter, Adelaide Ann, 553. - Parisian Problems, Solution of some, 691. - Playing with Fire, 697. - Paris, Old, 824 - - Ritualism, 52. - Robert; or, The Influence of a Good Mother, 66, 194. - Rationalism, Lecky's History of, 77. - Rome or Reason, 721. - - Sister, The Story of, 15. - Spain, Modern Writers of, 26. - Spain, Impressions of, 160, 320, 443, 594, 738. - Speech, Visible, 417. - - The Birds' Friend, 268. - Time-Measurers, 271. - Three Leaves from an Old Journal, 627. - Thermometers, 707. - Tuscan Peasants and the Maremna, 710. - Tetzel, John, 838. - - Verheyden's Right Hand, 309. - - Wandering Jew, The, 761. - - ---- - - Poetry. - - A Dream, 94. - Asperges Me, 134. - At Threescore, 235. - A Family Motto, 257. - Abide in Me, 767. - - Blessed Sacrament, Praises of the, 347. - Beams, 753. - - Confiteor, 206. - Columbus, 525. - Charles the X. at the Convent of Yuste, 671. - - Forebodings, 494. - - Gladiators' Song, The, 521. - - Hidden Crucifixion, The, 159. - - Il Duomo, 608. - - Kettle Song, 51. - - Looking Down the Road, 172. - Laudate Pueri Dominum, 413. - Leaf of Last Year, This, 545. - - May, A Fancy, 318. - Mary's Dirge, 631. - Mea Culpa, 690. - - Napoleon, The Death of; 379. - - Olive Branches in Gethsemane, 14 - - Planting of the Cross, 139. - -{iv} - - Regret, 442. - Rhoda, 784. - - Sleep, My Tears in, 193. - Sir Ralph de Blanc-Minster, 460. - - The Church and the Sinner, 25. - The Cross, 65. - - Under the Violets, 663. - - Wasted Vigil, The, 823. - ------- - - New Publications. - - Art of Illuminating, Practical Hints on, 144 - American Boys and Girls, 430. - Antoine de Boneval,574. - Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia, 719. - - Bible, Literary Characters of, 576. - Barbarossa, 719. - Beauties of Faith, 720. - - Catholic Tracts, 142, 715. - Christian Love, Three Phases of, 144. - Cunningham's Catholic Library, 144. - Christian Unity, Lectures on, 287. - Catholic Anecdotes, 576. - Christianity and its Conflicts, 576. - Critical and Social Essays, 718. - Cummiskey's Juvenile Library, 720. - Coaina, 720. - - De Guerin, Maurice, Journal of, 288. - Döllinger's First Age of Christianity, 716. - - Études Philologiques sur Quelques Langues Sauvages de l'Amerique, 575. - Frithiof's Saga, 431. - Fronde's History of England, 573. - First Historical Transformations of Christendom, 717. - Fathers and Sons, 718. - Faber's Notes, 719. - - L'Echo de la France, 143. - Labor, Sermon on the Dignity and Value of, 431. - - Mühlbach's Historical Romances, 285. - Moore's Irish Melodies, 432. - Monks of the West, The, 715. - Manual of the Lives of the Popes, 720. - Melpomene Divina, 859. - - Poems, Miss Starr's, 716. - - Roman Pontiffs, Lives and Times of, 576. - - St. Dominic, Life of, 288. - Student of Blenheim Forest, The, 574. - Studies in English, 574. - Stories of the Commandments, 720. - Science of Happiness, 860. - Studies in the Gospels, 860. - - Tracts, Catholic, 142, 715. - Three Phases of Christian Love, 144. - The Man with the Broken Ear, 720. - ------- - -{1} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. V., NO. 25--April 1867. - - - Church And State. [Footnote 1] - - [Footnote 1: Essay on Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism, - considered in their fundamental Principles. By Donoso Cortes, Marquis - of Valdegamas. From the original Spanish. To which is prefixed a sketch - of the Life and Works of the Author, from the Italian of G. E. de - Castro. Translated by Madeleine Vinton Goddard. Philadelphia: - Lippincott and Co. 1862. 16mo. PP. 835.] - - -The political changes and weighty events that have occurred since, have -almost obliterated from the memory the men and the revolutions or -catastrophes of 1848 and 1849. We seem removed from them by centuries, and -have lost all recollection of the great questions which then agitated the -public mind, and on which seemed suspended the issues of the life and death -of society. Then an irreligious liberalism threatened the destruction of -all authority, of all belief in revelation, and piety toward God; and a -rampant, and apparently victorious, socialism, or more properly, -anti-socialism, threatened the destruction of society itself, and to -replunge the civilized world into the barbarism from which the church, by -long centuries of patient and unremitting toil, had been slowly recovering -it. - -Among the noble and brave men who then placed themselves on the side of -religion and society, of faith and Christian civilization, and attempted to -stay the advancing tide Of infidelity and barbarism, few were more -conspicuous, or did more to stir up men's minds and hearts to a sense of -the danger, than the learned, earnest, and most eloquent Donoso Cortes, -Marquis of Valdegamas. He was then in the prime and vigor of his manhood. -Born and bred in Catholic Spain at a time when the philosophy of the -eighteenth century had not yet ceased to be in vogue, and faith, if not -extinct, was obscured and weak, he had grown up without religious fervor, a -philosophist rather than a believer--a liberal in politics, and disposed to -be a social reformer. He sustained The Christinos against the Carlists, and -rose to high favor with the court of Isabella Segunda. He was created a -marquis, was appointed a senator, held various civil and diplomatic -appointments, and was in 1848 one of the most prominent and, influential -statesmen in Spain, I might almost say, in Europe. - -The death of a dearly beloved brother, some time before, had very deeply -affected him, and became the occasion of awakening his dormant religious -faith, and turning his attention to theological studies. His religious -convictions became active and fruitful, and by the aid of divine grace -vivified all his thoughts and actions, growing stronger and stronger, and -more absorbing every day. -{2} -He at length lived but for religion, and devoted his whole mind and soul to -defend it against its enemies, to diffuse it in society, and to adorn it by -his piety and deeds of charity, especially to the poor. He died in the -habit of a Jesuit at Paris, in May, 1853. - -Some of our readers must still remember the remarkable speech which the -Marquis de Valdegamas pronounced in the Spanish Cortes, January 4, 1849--a -speech that produced a marked effect in France, and indeed throughout all -Europe, not to add America--in which he renounced all liberal ideas and -tendencies, denounced constitutionalism and parliamentary governments, and -demanded the dictatorship. It had great effect in preparing even the -friends of liberty, frightened by the excesses of the so-called liberals, -red republicans, socialists, and revolutionists, if not to favor, at least -to accept the _coup d'état_, and the re-establishment of the Imperial -_régime_ in France; and it, no doubt, helped to push the reaction that -was about to commence against the revolutionary movements of 1848, to a -dangerous extreme, and to favor, by another sort of reaction, that -recrudescence of infidelity that has since followed throughout nearly all -Europe. It is hardly less difficult to restrain reactionary movements -within just limits than it is the movements that provoke them. - -The new American Cyclopedia says Donoso Cortes published his Essay on -Catholicism, Liberalism, and Socialism in French. That is a mistake. He -wrote and published it in Spanish, at Madrid, in 1851. The French work -published at Paris, the same year, was a translation, and very inferior to -the original. A presentation copy by the distinguished author of the -original Spanish edition of 1851 to the late Mr. Calderon de la Barca--so -long resident Spanish minister at Washington, and who was his life-long -personal and political friend--is now in my possession, and is the very -copy from which Mrs. Goddard, now the noble wife of Rear Admiral Dahlgren, -made the translation cited at the head of this article. Mr. Calderon--a -good judge--pronounced the work in Spanish by far the most eloquent work -that he ever read in any language; and I can say, though that may not be -much, that it far surpasses in the highest and truest order of eloquence -any work in any language that I am acquainted with. In it one meets all the -power and majesty, grace and unction of the old Castilian tongue, that -noblest of modern languages, and in which Cicero might have surprised -himself. - -The work necessarily loses much in being translated, but Mrs. Goddard's -translation comes as near to the original as any translation can. It is -singularly faithful and elegant, and reproduces the thought and spirit of -the author with felicity and exactness, in idiomatic English, which one can -read without suspecting it to be not the language in which the work was -originally written. There is scarcely a sentence in which the translation -can be detected. It must have been made _con amore,_ and we can -recommend it as a model to translators, who too often do the work from the -original language into no language. The following, from the opening pages, -is a fair specimen of the thought and style of the author, and of the -clearness, force, and beauty of the translation: - - "Mr. Proudhon, in his Confession, of a Revolutionist, has written these - remarkable words: 'It is surprising to observe how constantly we find all - our political questions complicated with theological questions.' There is - nothing in this to cause surprise, except it be the surprise of Mr. - Proudhon Theology being the science of God, is the ocean which contains - and embraces all the sciences, as God is the ocean in which all things - are contained. All things existed, both prior to and after their - creation, in the divine mind; because as God made them out of nothing, so - did he form them according to a model which existed in himself from - eternity. -{3} - All things are in God in a profound manner in which effects are in their - causes, consequences in their principles, reflections in light, and forms - in their eternal exemplars. In him are united the vastness of the sea, - the glory or the fields, the harmony of the spheres, the grandeur or the - universe, the splendor of the stars, and the magnificence of the heavens. - In him are the measure, weight, and number of all things, and all things - proceed from him with number, weight, and measure. In him are the - inviolable and sacred laws of being, and every being has its particular - law. All that lives, finds in him the laws of life; all that vegetates, - the laws of vegetation; all that moves, the laws or motion; all that has - feeling, the law or sensation; all that has understanding, the law of - intelligence; and all that has liberty, the law of freedom. It may in - this sense be affirmed, without falling into Pantheism, that all things - are in God, and God is in all things. This will serve to explain how in - proportion as faith is impaired in this world, truth is weakened, and how - the society that turns its back upon God, will find its horizon quickly - enveloped in frightful obscurity. For this reason religion has been - considered by all men, and in all ages, as the indestructible foundation - of human society. _Omnis humana societatis fundamentum convellit qui - religionem convellit_, says Plato in Book 10 of his laws. According to - Xenophon (on Socrates), "the most pious cities and nations have always - been the most durable, and the wisest." Plutarch affirms (contra Colotes) - 'that it is easier to build a city in the air than to establish society - without a belief in the gods.' Rousseau, in his Social Contract, Book - iv., ch. viii., observes, 'that a State was never established without - religion as a foundation.' Voltaire says, in his Treatise on Toleration, - ch. xx., 'that religion is, on all accounts, necessary wherever society - exists.' All the legislation of the ancients rests upon a fear of gods. - Polybius declares that this holy fear is always more requisite in a free - people than in others. That Rome might be the eternal city, Numa made it - the holy city. Among the nations of antiquity the Roman was the greatest, - precisely because it was the most religious. Cesar having one day uttered - certain words, in open Senate, against the existence of the gods, Cato - and Cicero arose from their seats and accused the irreverent youth of - having spoken words fatal to the Republic. It is related of Fabricius, a - Roman captain, that having heard the philosopher Cineas ridicule the - Divinity in presence of Pyrrhus, he pronounced these memorable words: - 'May it please the gods, that our enemies follow this doctrine when they - make war against the Republic.' - - 'The decline of faith that produces the decline of truth does not - necessarily cripple, but certainly misleads the human mind. God, who is - both compassionate and just, denies truth to guilty souls, but does not - deprive them of life. He condemns them to error, but not to death. All an - evidence of this, every one has witnessed those periods of prodigious - incredulity and of highest culture that have shown in history with a - phosphorescent light, leaving more of a burning than a luminous track - behind them. If we carefully contemplate these ages, we shall see that - their splendor is only the inflamed glare or the lightning's flash. It is - evident that their brightness is the sudden explosion of their obscure - but combustible materials, rather than the calm light proceeding from - purest regions, and serenely spread over heaven's vault by the divine - pencil of the sovereign painter. - - "What is here said of ages may also be said of men. The absence or the - possession of faith, the denial of God or the abandonment of truth, - neither gives them understanding nor deprives them of it. That of the - unbeliever may be of the highest order, and that of the believer very - limited; but the greatness of the first is that of an abyss, while the - second has the holiness of a tabernacle. In the first dwells error, in - the second truth. In the abyss with error is death, in the tabernacle - with truth is life. Consequently there can be no hope whatever for those - communities that renounce the austere worship of truth for the idolatry - of the intellect. Sophisms produce revolutions and sophists are succeeded - by hangmen. - - "He possesses political truth who understands the laws to which - governments are amenable; and he possesses social truth who comprehends, - the laws to which human societies are answerable. He who knows God knows - these laws; and he knows God who listens to what he affirms of himself, - and believes the same. Theology is the science which has for its object - these affirmations. Whence it follows that every affirmation respecting - society or government, supposes an affirmation relative to God; or, what - is the same thing, that every political or social truth necessarily - resolves itself into a theological truth. - - "If everything is intelligible in God and through God, and theology is - the science of God, in whom and by whom everything is elucidated, - theology is the universal science. Such being the case, there is nothing - not comprised in this science, which has no plural; because totality, - which constitutes it, has it not. Political and social sciences have no - existence except as arbitrary classifications of the human mind. Man in - his feebleness classifies that which in God is characterized by the most - simple unity. Thus, he distinguishes political from social and religious - affirmations; while in God there is but one affirmation, indivisible and - supreme. -{4} - He who speaks explicitly of what thing soever, and is ignorant that he - implicitly speaks of God; and who does not know when he discusses - explicitly any science whatever, that he implicitly illustrates theology, - has received from God simply the necessary amount of intelligence to - constitute him a man. Theology, then, considered in its highest - acceptation, is the perpetual object of all the sciences, even as God is - the perpetual object of human speculations. - - "Every word that a man utters is a recognition of the Diety, even that - which curses or denies God. He who rebels against God, and frantically - exclaims, 'I abhor thee; thou art not!' illustrates a complete system of - theology, as he does who raises to him a contrite heart, and says, 'Lord, - have mercy on thy servant, who adores thee.' The first blasphemes him to - his face, the second prays at his feet, yet both acknowledge him, each in - his own way; for both pronounce his incommunicable name." - -The work shows no great familiarity with the writings of the later -theologians, and no fondness for the style and method of the schools, but -it shows a profound study of the Fathers, and a perfect mastery of -contemporary theories and speculations. The author is a man of the -nineteenth century, with the profound thought of an Augustine, the -eloquence of a Chrysostom, and the tender piety of a Francis of Assissium. -He has studied the epistles of St. Paul, and been touched with the -inspiration of that great apostle's burning zeal and consuming charity. He -observes not always the technical exactness of modern theological -professors, and some French _abbés_ thought they detected in his -_Ensayo_ some grave theological errors, but only because they missed -the signs which they were accustomed to identify with the things signified, -and met with terms and illustrations with which they were unfamiliar. But -he seizes with rare sagacity and firmness the living truth, and presents us -theology as a thing of life and love. - -The principles of the essay are catholic, are the real principles of -Christianity and society, set fourth with a clearness, a depth, a logical -force, a truthfulness, a richness of illustration and an eloquence which -have seldom, if ever, been surpassed. But some of the inferences be draws -from them, and some of the applications he makes of them to social and -political science are not such as every Catholic even is prepared to -accept. The author was drawn to religion by domestic afflictions, which -saddened while they softened his heart, and he writes, as he felt, amid the -ruins of a falling world. All things seemed to him gone or going, and he -looked out upon a universal wreck. His spirit is not soured, but his -feelings are tinged with the gloom of the prospect, and while he hopes in -God he well-nigh despairs of the world, of man, of society, of -civilization, above all, of liberty, and sees no means of saving European -society but in the dictatorship or pure despotism acting under the -inspiration and direction of the church. He was evidently more deeply -impressed by what was lost in the primitive fall or original sin than by -what in our nature has survived that catastrophe. He adored the justice of -God displayed in the punishment of the wicked, justified him in all his -dealings with men, but he saw in his providence no mercy for fallen -nations, or a derelict society. This life he regarded as a trial, the earth -as a scene of suffering, a vale of tears, and found in religion a support, -indeed, but hardly a consolation. The Christian has hope in God, but is a -man of sorrows, and his life an expiation. Much of this is true and -scriptural, and this world certainly is not our abiding place, and can -afford us no abiding joy. But this is not saying that there are no -consolations, no abiding joys for us even in this life. Consolations and -joys a Christian has in this world, though they proceed not from it. It can -neither give them nor take them away; yet we taste them even while in it. -This world is not the contradictory of the world to come; it is not heaven, -indeed, and cannot be heaven, yet it is related to heaven as a medium, and -the medium must partake, in some measure, of both the principle and the -end. - -{5} - -The great merit of the essay is in deducing political and social from -theological principles. This is undoubtedly not only the teaching of the -church, but of all sound philosophy; and what I regard as the principal -error of the book is the desire to transfer to the state the immobility and -unchangeableness which belong to the church, an institution existing by the -direct and immediate appointment of God. The author seems to be as -unwilling to recognize the intervention of man and man's nature in -government and society as in the direct and immediate works of the Creator. -He is no pantheist or Jansenist, and yet be seems to me to make too little -account of the part of second causes, or the activity of creatures; and -sometimes to forget, or almost forget, that grace does not supersede -nature, but supports it, strengthens it, elevates it, and completes it. He -sees only the Divine action in events; or in plain words, he does not make -enough of nature, and does not sufficiently bring out the fact that natural -and supernatural, nature and grace, reason and faith, earth and heaven, are -not antagonistic forces, to be reconciled only by the suppression of the -one or the other, but really parts of one dialectic whole, which, to the -eye that can take in the whole in all its parts, and all the parts in the -whole, in which they are integrated, would appear perfectly consistent with -each other, living the same life in God, and directed by him to one and the -same end. He, therefore, unconsciously and unintentionally, favors or -appears to favor a dualism as un-christian as it is unphilosophical. God -being in his essence dialectical, nothing proceeding from him can be -sophistical, or wanting in logical unity, and one part of his works can -never be opposed to another, or demand its suppression. The one must always -be the complement of the other. Christianity was given to fulfil nature, -not to destroy it. "Think not that I am come to destroy the law or the -prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." (St. Matt. v. 17.) - -The misapprehension on this subject arises from the ambiguity of the word -_world_. This word is generally used by ascetic writers not to -designate the natural order, but the principles, spirit, and conduct of -those who live for this world alone; who look not beyond this life; who -take the earth not as a medium, but as the end, and seek only the goods -this world offers. These are called worldly, sensual, or carnal-minded -people, and as such contrast with the spiritually minded, or those who look -above and beyond merely sensible goods--to heaven beyond the earth, to a -life beyond the grave, a life of spiritual bliss in indissoluble union with -God, the end of their existence, and their supreme good as well as the -supreme good in itself. In this sense there is a real antagonism between -this world and the next; but when the world is taken in its proper place, -and for what it really is, in the plan of the Creator, there is no -antagonism in the case; and to despise it would be to despise the work of -God, and to neglect it would be not a virtue, but even a sin. This world -has its temptations and its snares, and as long as we remain in the flesh -we are in danger of mistaking it for the end of our existence, and -therefore it is necessary that we be on our guard against its seductions. -But the chief motive that leads souls hungering and bursting for perfection -to retire to the desert or to the monastery is not that they may fly its -temptations, or the enemies to their virtue, for they find greater -temptations to struggle against and fiercer enemies to combat in solitude -than in the thronged city; it is the love of sacrifice, and the longing to -take part with our Lord in his great work of expiation that moves them. -Simply to get rid of the world, to turn the back on society, or to get away -from the duties and cares of the world, is no proper motive for retirement -from the world, and the church permits not her children to do it and enter -a religious order so long as they have duties to their family or their -country to perform. -{6} -Nothing could better prove that the church does not suffer us to contemn or -neglect the natural or temporal order, or regard as of slight importance -the proper discharge of our duties to our families, our country, or natural -society. The same thing is proved by the fact that the process for -canonization cannot go on in a case where the individual has not fulfilled -all his natural duties, growing out of his state or relations in society. -_Gratia supponit naturam_. - -In consequence of his tendency to an exclusive asceticism, a tendency which -he owed to the unsettled times in which he lived, and the reaction in his -own mind against the liberalism be had at one time favored, Donoso Cortes -countenanced, to some extent, political absolutism; and had great influence -in leading even eminent Catholics to denounce constitutionalism, -legislative assemblies, publicity, and free political discussion, as if -these things were un-catholic, and inseparable from the political atheism -of the age. There was a moment when the writer of this article himself, -under the charm of his eloquence, and the force of the arguments he drew -from the individual and social crimes committed in the name of liberty and -progress, was almost converted to his side of the question, and supported -popular institutions only because cause they were the law in his own -country. But without pretending that the church enjoins any particular form -of civil polity, or maintaining the infallibility or impeccability of the -people, either collectively or individually, a calmer study of history, and -the recent experience of our own country, have restored me to my early -faith in popular forms of government, or democracy as organized under our -American system, which, though it has its dangers and attendant evils, is, -wherever practicable, the form of government that, upon the whole, best -conforms to those great Catholic principles on which the church herself is -founded. - -But the people cannot govern well, any more than kings or kaisers, unless -trained to the exercise of power, and subjected to moral and religious -discipline. It is precisely here that the work of Donoso Cortes has its -value. The reaction which has for a century or two been going on against -that mixture of civil and ecclesiastical government which grew up after the -downfall of the Roman empire in the west, and which was not only natural -but necessary, since the clergy had nearly all the learning, science, and -cultivation of the times, and to which modern society is so deeply indebted -for its civilization, has carried modern statesmen to an opposite extreme, -and resulted in almost universal political atheism. The separation of -church and state in our age means not merely the separation of the church -and the state as corporations or governments, which the popes have always -insisted on, but the separation of political principles from theological -principles, and the subjection of the church and ecclesiastical affairs to -the state. Where monarchy, in its proper sense, obtains, the king or -emperor, and where democracy, save in its American sense, is asserted, the -people, takes the place of God, at least in the political order. Statolatry -is almost as prevalent in our days as idolatry was with the ancient Greeks -and Romans. - -Even in our own country, it may be remarked that the general sympathy is -with anti-Christian--especially anti-papal insurrections and revolutions. -We should witness little sympathy with the Cretans and Christians of the -Turkish empire, if they were not understood to be schismatics, who reject -the authority of the pope in spirituals as well as in temporals. Yet, prior -to the treaty of Paris in 1856, the Greek prelates were, under the Turkish -sovereignty, the temporal lords of their people, and the design of that -treaty, so far as relates to the Eastern Christians, was to deprive them of -the last remains of temporal independence, and to complete the conquest of -Mahomet II. The complete subjection of religion to the state is called -religious liberty, the emancipation of conscience. -{7} -Our American press applauds the Italian ministry for laying down the law -for the Italian bishops, restored their sees, from which the state exiled -them, and prescribing them their bounds, beyond which they must not pass. -The Italian State does not, as with us, recognize the freedom and -independence of the Spiritual order, but at best only tolerates it. It -asserts not only the freedom and independence of the state in face of the -church, but its supremacy, its right to govern the church, or at least to -define the limits within which it may exist and operate. - -This is what our age understands by the separation of church and state. If -it foregoes, at any time or place, the authority to govern the church, it -still holds that it has the right to govern churchmen the same as any other -class of persons; that the civil law is the supreme law of the land; and -that religion, when it happens to conflict with it, must give way to it. -The law of the state is the supreme law. This is everywhere the doctrine of -European liberals, and the doctrine they reduce to practice wherever they -have the power, and hence the reason why the church visits them with her -censures. Many devout believers think the separation of church and state -must mean this, and can mean nothing else, and therefore that the union of -church and state must mean a return to the old mixture of civil and -ecclesiastical government of the middle ages. Hence a Donoso Cortes and a -Baron Ricasoli are on this point in singular accord. Our American press, -which takes its cue principally from European liberals, takes the same -view, and understands both the separation and the union of church and state -in the same sense. - -Yet the American solution of the mutual relations of church and state is a -living proof, a practical demonstration that they are wrong. Here the state -does not tolerate the church, nor the church either enslave or tolerate the -state, because the state recognizes the freedom or conscience, and its -independence of all secular control. My church is my conscience, and my -conscience being free here, my church is free, and for me and all -Catholics, in the free exercise of her full spiritual authority. Here it is -not the state that bounds conscience, but conscience that bounds the state. -The state here is bound by its own constitution to respect and protect the -rights of the citizen. Among these rights, the most precious is the right -of conscience--the right to the free exercise of my religion. This right -does not decide what the civil law shall be, but it does decide what it -shall not be. Any law abridging my right of conscience--that is, the -freedom of my church--is unconstitutional, and, so far, null and void. -This, which is my right, is equally the right of every other citizen, -whether his conscience--that is, his church--agrees with mine or not. The -Catholic and the Protestant stand on the same footing before the law, and -the conscience of each is free before the state, and a limit beyond which -the civil law cannot extend its jurisdiction. Here, then, is a separation -of church and state that does not enslave the church, and a union of church -and state that does not enslave the state, or interfere with its free and -independent action in its own proper sphere. The church maintains her -independence and her superiority as representing the spiritual order, for -she governs those who are within, not those who are without, and the state -acts in harmony, not in conflict with her, because it confines its action-- -where it has power--to things temporal. - -The only restriction, on any side, is, that the citizen must so assert his -own right of conscience as not to abridge the equal right of conscience in -his fellow-citizen who differs from him. Of course the freedom of -conscience cannot be made a pretext for disturbing the public peace, or -outraging public decency, nor can it be suffered to be worn as a cloak to -cover dissoluteness of manners or the transgression of the universal moral -law; when it is so made or worn it ceases to be the _right_ of -conscience, ceases to be conscience at all, and the state has authority to -intervene and protect the public peace and public decency. -{8} -It may, therefore, suppress the Mormon concubinage, and require the Latter -Day Saints to conform to the marriage law as recognized by the whole -civilized world, alike in the interests of religion and of civilization. -But beyond this the state cannot go, at least with us. - -It may be doubted whether this American system is practicable in any but a -republican country--under a government based on equal rights, not on -privilege, whether the privilege of the one, the few, or the many. -Democracy, as Europeans understand it, is not based on equal rights, but is -only the system of privilege, if I may so speak, expanded. It recognizes no -equal rights, because it recognizes no rights of the individual at all -before the state. It is the pagan republic which asserts the universal and -absolute supremacy of the state. The American democracy is Christian, not -pagan, and asserts, for every citizen, even the meanest, equal rights, -which the state must treated as sacred and inviolable. It is because our -system is based on equal rights, not on privilege--on rights held not from -the state, but which the state is bound to recognize and protect, that -American democracy, instead of subjecting religion to the state, secures -its freedom and independence. - -Donoso Cortes can no more understand this than can the European democrat, -because he has no conception of the equal rights of all men before the -state; or rather, because he has no conception of the rights of man. Man, -he says, has no rights; he has only duties. This is true, when we speak of -man in relation to his Maker. The thing made has no right to say to the -maker, "Why hast thou made me thus?" Man has only duties before God, -because he owes to him all he is, has, or can do, and he finds beatitude in -discharging his duties to God, because God is good, the good in itself, and -would not be God and could not be creator if be were not. But that man has -no rights in relation to society, to the state, or to his fellow man, is -not true. Otherwise there could be no justice between man and man, between -the individual and society, or the citizen and the state, and no injustice, -for there is no injustice where no right is violated. Denying or -misconceiving the rights of man, and conceiving the state as based on -privilege, not on equal rights, the Spaniard is unable to conceive it -possible to assert the freedom and independence of the state, without -denying the freedom and independence of the church. - -But, if republican institutions based on equal rights are necessary to -secure the freedom and independence of the church, the freedom and -independence of the church, on the other hand, are no less necessary to the -maintenance of such institutions. I say, _of the church_, rather than -of religion, because I choose to speak of things in the concrete rather -than in the abstract, and because it is only as concreted in the church -that the freedom and independence of religion can be assailed, or that -religion has power to protect or give security to institutions based on -equal rights. The church is concrete religion. Whether there is more than -one church, or which of the thousand and one claimants is the true church, -is not now the question. The answer of the Catholic is not doubtful. At -present I am treating the question of equal rights, and asking no more for -the church before the state than for the several sects. Of course, I -recognize none of the sects as the church, but I am free to say that I -regard even the lowest of them as better for society than any form of -downright infidelity. There is something in common between Catholics and -the sects that confess Christ as the Son of God, incarnate for our -redemption and salvation, which there is not, and cannot be, between us and -those who confess not Christ at all. But this is a digression. - -{9} - -Equal rights must have a foundation, something on which to stand. They -cannot stand on the state or civil society, for that would deny them to be -rights at all, and reduce them to simple privileges granted by the state -and revocable at its will. This is precisely the error of the European -liberals, who invariably confound right with privilege. All European -society has been, and still is to a great extent, based on privilege, not -right. Thus in England you have the rights--more properly, the privileges -or franchises--of Englishman, but no rights of man which parliament is -bound to recognize and protect as such. There is no right or freedom of -conscience which the state must respect as sacred and inviolable; there is -only toleration, more or less general. In the new kingdom of Italy there -are the privileges and franchises of Italians, and, within certain limits, -toleration for the church. Her bishops may exercise their spiritual -functions so long as they do not incur the displeasure of the state. The -supremacy of the state is asserted, and the ecclesiastical administration -is at the mercy of the civil. It is so in every European state, because in -none of them is the state based on equal rights. The United States are the -only state in the world that is so based. Our political system is based on -right, not privilege, and the equal rights of all men. - -The state with us rests on equal rights of all men; but on what do the -equal rights themselves rest? What supports or upholds them? The state -covers or represents the whole temporal order, and they, therefore, have -not, and cannot have, their basis or support in that order. Besides the -temporal there is no order but the spiritual, covered or represented by the -church. The equal rights, then, which are with us the basis of the state, -depend themselves on the church or spiritual order for their support. Take -away that order or remove the church, or even suppress the freedom and -independence of the church, and you leave them without any support at all. -The absolutism of the state follows, then, as a necessary consequence, and -might usurps the place of right. Hence political principles must find their -support in theology, and the separation of church and state in the sense of -separating political from theological principles is as hostile to the state -as to the church, and to liberty as to religion. It is not easy to -controvert this conclusion, if we consider whence our rights are derived, -and on what they depend for their reality and support. These rights, which -we do not derive from the state or civil society, and hold independently of -it, among which the Declaration of Independence enumerates "life, liberty, -and the pursuit of happiness," which it asserts to be "inalienable," whence -do we hold them but from God, our Creator? This is what is meant when they -are called the natural rights of man. They are called natural rights, -because rights held under the natural law, but the natural law in the sense -of the jurists and theologians, not in the sense of the physicists or -natural philosophers--a moral law addressed to reason and free-will, and -binding upon all men, whatever their state or position; not a physical law, -like that by which clouds are formed, seeds germinate, or heavy bodies tend -to the centre of the earth; for it is a law that does not execute itself -and is not executed at all without the action of the reason and will of -society. It is necessarily a law prescribed by the Author of nature, and is -called the natural law, the law of natural justice, or the moral law, in -distinction from the revealed or supernatural law, because promulgated by -the supreme Lawgiver through natural reason, or the reason common to all -men, which is itself in intimate relation with the Divine Reason. - -{10} - -These natural equal rights are the law for the state or civil authority, -and every law of the state that violates them violates natural justice, and -is by that fact null and void; is, as St. Augustine says, and St. Thomas -after him, "Violence rather than law," and can never be binding on the -civil courts, though human courts not unfrequently enforce such laws. Not -being derived from the state or civil society, these rights are evidently -not in the temporal order, or the same order with the state, and therefore -must have, as we have seen, their basis in the spiritual order, that is, in -theology, or have no basis at all. - -The existence of God as the creator and upholder of nature, I do not here -undertake to prove; for that has been done in the papers on _The Problems -of the Age_, which have appeared in this magazine. I am not arguing -against atheism in general, but only against what is called political -atheism, or the doctrine that theology, and therefore the church, has -nothing to do with politics. The state, with us, is based on the equal -rights, not equal privileges, of all men; and if these equal rights have no -real and solid basis beyond and independent of civil society, the state -itself has no real basis, and is a _chateau d'Espagne_, or a mere -castle in the air. Hence political atheism is not only the exclusion of the -church from politics, but the denial of the state itself, and the -substitution for it of mere physical force. Political atheism cannot be -asserted without atheism in general, without, in fact, denying all -existence, and, therefore, of necessity, all right. Political atheism is, -then, alike destructive of religion and politics, church and state, of -authority and liberty. Deny all right independent of the state, and the -citizen can have no right not derived from the state, which denies all -liberty; deny all right independent of the state, the state itself can have -no right to govern, unless the state itself be God, which would be -statolatry, alike absurd and blasphemous. - -The rights of the state and of the citizen, alike must be derived from God, -and have a theological basis, or be no rights at all, but words without -meaning. There is then no such separation between politics and theology as -European democracy asserts. Such separation is unphilosophical, and against -the truth of things. It has been so held in all ages and nations of the -world. All the great theologians, philosophers, and moralists of the human -race have always held polities to be a branch of ethics, or morals, and -that branch which treats of the application of the catholic principles of -theology to society, or the social relations of mankind. The permanent, -universal, and invariable principles of civil society are all theological -principles, for there are no such principles outside of theology, and the -office of the state is to apply these principles only to what is local, -temporal, and variable. It is evident then that principles, properly so -called, lie in the theological order, and come within the province of the -theologian, not of the statesman, and are therefore to be determined by the -spiritual society, not by the civil. - -It is, then, the spiritual not the temporal, religion not politics, that -asserts and maintains these rights, and religion does it in asserting and -maintaining the right of conscience, which is the right of God, and the -basis of all rights. The right of conscience is exemption from all merely -human authority--a right to be held by all civil society as sacred and -inviolable; and is the first and impassable barrier to the power of the -state. The state cannot pass it without violence, without the most -outrageous tyranny. It is then religion, not the state, that asserts and -maintains freedom; for the state when it acts, acts as authority, not as -liberty. So, on the other hand, is it religion that asserts and maintains -the authority, I say, not the force, of the state. The authority of the -state is its right to govern. In respect to civil society itself, it is -liberty; in respect to citizens, it is authority. Being a right on the part -of the state or society, it, like all other rights, lies in the spiritual -order, and is equally sacred and inviolable. -{11} -Religion, then, while it makes it the duty of the state to recognize and -protect the rights of the individual citizen, makes it the duty of the -individual citizen to recognize, respect, and defend the rights of the -state or society. The duty in both cases is a religious duty, because all -right is held from God, and only God can enjoin duty, or bind conscience. -Deny God, and you deny religion; deny religion, and you deny all duty and -all right;--alike the rights and duties of the state and the rights and -duties of the individual citizen, and, therefore, alike both liberty and -authority, which being correlatives can never exist the one without the -other. There is no denying this conclusion without denying reason itself. - -But religion, as an abstract theory, is powerless, as are all abstractions, -and exists only as concreted, and religion in the concrete is the church. -In the state and in the individual, God operates indeed, but mediately, -through natural or secondary causes; but in the church immediately, for the -church is his body, and her vitality is the Holy Ghost, who dwells in her, -and is to her something like what the soul is to the body, _forma -corporis_. Religion without the church is a theory or a vague sentiment; -religion concreted in the church is a living reality, a power, and is -efficient in vindicating both rights and duties, and affording a solid -support to both liberty and authority. The sects, as far as they go, are -concrete religion, but not religion in its unity and integrity. They are -better than nothing; but lacking the unity and catholicity of truth, and -being divided and subdivided among themselves, they can very imperfectly -perform the office of religion or the Catholic Church. They are unable to -make head against material force, and to maintain with any efficiency the -rights of the spiritual against the encroachments of the temporal, or to -prevent the state from asserting its own absolute supremacy. They exist not -by a recognized right, but by state tolerance; they are suffered to exist -and are protected, because they become auxiliaries of the state in its -efforts to break the power and influence of the church, whose authority in -spirituals is more repugnant to them then is state supremacy. Hence we find -that wherever, except in the United States, the spiritual power is broken -and divided into a great variety of sects, the state claims to be supreme -alike in spirituals and temporals; and it is very doubtful if the freedom -and independence of the spiritual order could long be preserved even in our -country should our sectarian divisions continue. These divisions are -already generating a wide-spread indifference to religion, almost a -contempt for it; while there are manifest and growing tendencies to extend -the authority of the state beyond its legitimate bounds into the domain of -individual liberty. The unity and catholicity of the church, representing -the unity and catholicity of the spiritual order, will soon be seen to be -necessary to preserve our free institutions. - -It was concrete religion, in its unity and catholicity embodied in the -church as an institution, that was able during the middle ages to assert -the freedom and independence of the spiritual order, which is only another -term for the freedom and independence of conscience, against the political -order. She was thus constituted a living reality, a concrete power, and the -powers of the earth had to reckon with her. Constituted as society then -was, she needed and exercised more positive power in the temporal order -than was agreeable to her, or than is necessary in a society constituted -like ours. The republic, then, was pagan, and sought to be supreme -everywhere and in everything, or in other words, to subject the spiritual -order to the temporal, as it was in pagan Rome, and for the most part -continued to be even in Christian Rome of the East, till its conquest by -the Turks. Hence the relation between Peter and Cesar, between the pope and -emperor, was ordinarily that of antagonism. -{12} -It was necessary that the pope should be clothed with a power that could -control princes, and force them to respect the rights of conscience, or the -independence of the church, which to be sufficient must be positive as well -as negative. The temporal authority, or the authority of the church over -the temporal, claimed and exercised over secular princes seeking to combine -in themselves both the imperial and the pontifical power, was no -usurpation, and rested on no grant of civil society, or _jus -publicum_, as has sometimes been asserted, but grew out of the necessity -of the case; its justification was in its necessity to maintain her own -independence in spirituals, or the freedom of conscience. It was her right -as representing the spiritual order, and would be her right still in a -similarly constituted society, and the modern world is reaping in its -advanced civilization the fruits of her having claimed and exercised it. - -The necessity for claiming and exercising that power in a society -constituted as is the American does not exist, because in our society the -state frankly concedes all that she was in those ages struggling for. There -was nothing which Gregory VII., Innocent III., Boniface VIII., and other -great popes struggled for against the German emperors, the kings of France, -Aragon, and England, and the Italian republics, that is not recognized here -by our republic to be the right of the spiritual order. Here the old -antagonism between church and state does not exist. There is here a certain -antagonism, no doubt, between the church and the sects, but none between -the church and the state or civil society. Here the church has, so far as -civil society is concerned, all that she has ever claimed, all that she has -ever struggled for. Here she is perfectly free. She summons her prelates to -meet in council when she pleases, and promulgates her decrees for the -spiritual government of her children without leave asked or obtained. The -_placet_ of the civil power is not needed, is neither solicited nor -accepted. She erects and fills sees as she judges proper, founds and -conducts schools, colleges, and seminaries in her own way, without let or -hindrance; she manages her own temporalities, not by virtue of a grant or -concession of the state, but as her acknowledged right, held as the right -of conscience, independently of the state. Here she has nothing to conquer -from the state, for the civil law affords her the same protection for her -property that it does to the citizen for his; and therefore all that she -can seek in relation to the constitution of our civil society, is that it -should remain unaltered. - -True, the sects have before civil society the same freedom that she has, -but the state protects her from any violence they might be disposed to -offer her. They are not permitted to rob her of her churches, desecrate her -altars, molest her worship, or interfere with her management of her own -affairs. Their freedom in no respect whatever abridges hers, and whatever -controversy she may have with them, it is entirely on questions with which -civil society has nothing to do, which are wholly within the spiritual -order, and which could not be settled by physical force, if she had it at -her command, and was disposed to use it. Lying in the spiritual order, they -are independent of the state, and it has no right to interfere with them. -There is nothing, then, in the freedom of the sects to interfere with the -fullest liberty of the church, so long as the state recognizes and protect -her freedom and independence as well as theirs. There is nothing, then, -that the church can receive from civil society, that she has not in the -United States, and guaranteed to her by the whole force of the civil -constitution. - -{13} - -It is one of the mysteries of Providence that what the popes for ages -struggled for and still struggle for in the old world, and in all parts of -the new world originally colonized by Catholic states, should for the first -time in history be fully realized in a society founded by the most -anti-papal people on earth, who held the church to be the Scarlet Lady of -the Apocalypse. Surely, they builded better than they knew. But explain it -as you will, such is the fact. The United States is the only country in the -world where the church is really free. It would seem that both state and -church had to emigrate to the new world to escape the antagonisms of the -old, and to find a field for the free and untrammeled development of each. -It is idle to fear that the church will ever seek to disturb the order -established here, for she supports no principle and has no interest that -would lead her to do it. Individual Catholics, affected by the relations -that have subsisted between church and state in the old world, and not -aware that the church has here all that she has ever struggled for against -kings and princes, may think that the church lacks here some advantages -which she ought to have, or may think it desirable to reproduce here the -order of things which they have been accustomed to elsewhere, and which in -fact the church has submitted to as the best she could get, but has never -fully approved. These, however, are few, and are soon corrected by -experience, soon convinced that the real solution of the questions which -have so long and often so fearfully agitated the nations of Europe, has -been providentially obtained by the American people. The church has no wish -to alter the relation that exists with us between her and the state. - -But there is a very important question for the American people to ask -themselves. With the multiplicity of sects, the growing indifference to -religion, and the political atheism consciously or unconsciously fostered -by a large portion of the secular press and but feebly resisted by the -religious press, will they be able to reserve the freedom and independence -of the spiritual order, or protect the equal rights on which our political -institutions are founded? Instead of asking, as some do, are the presence -and extension of the church dangerous to our institutions, should they not -rather ask, is she not necessary to their safety? The higher question to be -addressed to the sects undoubtedly is, can men save their souls without the -church? but in addressing politicians and patriots, it is not beneath the -Catholic even to ask if the republic, the authority of the state, and the -liberty of the citizen, both of which rest on the freedom and authority of -conscience, can be saved or preserved without her? Are not the unity and -catholicity which she asserts and represents, and which the sects break and -discard, necessary to maintain the freedom and independence of the -spiritual order against the constant tendency of the political order and -material interests to invade and subject it? - -This is the great question for American patriots and statesman, and I have -written in vain, if this article does not at least suggest the answer. -Hitherto almost everywhere Catholics have found themselves obliged to -contend against the civil power to gain the freedom and independence of -their church, and at the same time, in these later centuries, to sustain -that power, even though hostile to liberty, in order to save society from -dissolution. Here they have to do neither, for here church and state, -liberty and authority, are in harmonious relation, and form really, as they -should, but two distinct parts of one whole; _distinct_, I say, not -_separate_ parts. There is here a true _union_, not _unity_, -of church and state--a union without which neither the liberty of the -citizen nor the authority of the state has any solid basis or support. The -duty of the Catholic on this question is, it seems to me, to do his best to -preserve this union as it is, and to combat every influence or tendency -hostile to it. - -{14} - -Donoso Cortes demonstrates most clearly that religion is the basis of -society and politics, but he is apparently disposed to assert the unity of -church and state, with European liberals, but differing from them by -absorbing the state in the church, or by virtually suppressing it; while -they would suppress the church or absorb her in the state. My endeavor in -what I have written has been to preserve both, and to defend not the unity, -but the union of church and state. This union in my judgment, has never -existed or been practicable in the old world, and I do not believe it is -even yet practicable there, and consequently, I regard whatever tends there -to weaken the political influence of the church as unfavorable to -civilization, and favorable only to political atheism, virtually asserted -by every European state, unless Belgium be an exception. But here the union -really exists, in the most perfect form that I am able to conceive it; and -for the harmonious progress of real civilization, we only need the church, -the real guardian of all rights that exist independently of civil society, -to become sufficiently diffused or to embrace a sufficient number of the -people in her communion; to preserve that union intact, from whatever -quarter it may be assailed. - -This, we are permitted to hope, will ere long be the case. The sects, -seeing their freedom and independence require its maintenance, must in this -respect make common cause with us; and hence the spiritual power is -probably already nearly, if not quite strong enough to maintain it against -any and every enemy that may arise. As to the controversy between the -church and the sects, I do not expect that to end very soon; but truth is -mighty and in the end will prevail They will, no doubt, struggle to the -last, but as the state cannot intervene in the dispute, and must maintain -an open field for the combatants, I have no doubt that they will yield at -last, because the church has the truth in its unity and integrity, and they -have it only as disunited or broken in scattered fragments. Reason demands -unity and catholicity, and where reason is free, and assisted by grace, she -must win the victory. - ------- - - Original - - On The Olive-branches In The Garden Of Gethsemane. - - - Unto the spreading olive-branches thus spake I: - "Emblems of peace! - Why do ye mock His bitter grief? - He cometh here to seek relief: - And ye His woes increase!" - - When for the silent trees my Jesus made reply: - "It should be so; - To men the sign of peace and life, - To Me should be of death and strife, - Who save them by My woe." - ------- - -{15} - - Translated from Le Correspondant - - The Story of A Sister. - by Augustin Cochin. - -Would you wish to see happiness realized on earth? It reigned in the palace -of Simonetti at Rome, in the family of the ambassador of France, in the -month of May, 1830. The ambassador was the Count de la Ferronaya. He had -been for a long time ambassador in Russia, where his character, his natural -gifts, his integrity, had triumphed over the reserve and _hauteur_ of -the Emperor Nicholas, who treated him as a friend. He was also the friend -of the King of France, who, in 1828, appointed him minister of foreign -affairs. Handsome, brilliant, brave, intelligent, he bore in his heart and -in his appearance the qualities which constitute the true French gentleman. -He had married the niece of the devoted, faithful Duchess of Tourzel, who -accompanied the king and queen to Varennes as governess to their children. -Three boys and four girls were the result of this happy marriage. This -family, endowed with birth, rank, and so many gifts of this world, were -united at Rome, under the most beautiful sky, in the most beautiful month -of the year, in the sunny brightness of an unclouded existence. The -revolution of July, 1830, having wrested the monarchy from the Bourbons, -the Ferronays were not unhappy. God had not yet taken everything from them, -he had only taken their riches. The father, by his fidelity, had grown in -public respect; his sons and daughters had been prepared by a solid -education for industry and self-sacrifice. For fifteen years the parents -had enjoyed uninterrupted prosperity, but they had not forgotten their days -of exile; and when poverty overtook them they met her as an old friend, -meekly bowing to the hand from whom all changes come. They went to live in -retirement at Castellamare, where their house was the image of their life, -a small chamber and a magnificent view, a radiant horizon seen from a -narrow dwelling. Soon after we find them at Chiaja, gay, happy, the -brothers quitting home for an active life, the sisters loving each other -devotedly, gathering flowers in Lady Acton's garden to wear them at the -next ball, presented at court, deprived of their fortune, but still happy; -tasting the pleasure that we find in traveling, and that we ought to find -in the journey of life--the pleasure which consists in admiring ardently -what we do process without the vanity of personal possession. However, this -delightful life was not exempt from danger: a stranger has too much -liberty; he is not subject to the supervision of relatives, friends, -neighbors, or rivals, who exercise a control which, though often trying, is -more often useful. Diplomatic families, above all, accustomed to be treated -with consideration, to form transient acquaintances, passing from court to -court, from St. Petersburg to London, from London to Rome, live in a -cosmopolitan world, the most delightful, the most amusing, but by far the -most dangerous. The family of M. de la Ferronays had not long escaped this -danger, which was rendered still more seductive under the charming sky and -in the luxurious climate of Italy. However, we do not pretend that this -story introduces us to exceptional creatures; this is not a voyage to the -country of the angels; we are still upon earth with common mortals. Albert, -one of the younger brothers, was the first to perceive the dangers of this -too self-indulgent life, and he had the courage to escape from it. -{16} -He was a brave heart in a frail body; be was capable of making a mistake, -but utterly incapable of excusing an unworthy action by an unworthy -doctrine. Providence gave him the support of two friends, who drew him at -eighteen from the enervating influences which he held in such horror, and -the elevating power of whose example transformed the child into a man. Both -survived him. M. Rio had been placed in the foreign office by M. de la -Ferronays; he refused to change his opinions to please M. Polignac, or to -abjure his oath to satisfy M. Guizot. M. de Polignac and M. Guizot, -respecting his courage and firmness, had not forsaken him; and making use -of his leisure to gratify his tastes as well as to show his gratitude, he -begged his old chief to allow him to return to his son the favors that he -had received from himself, and to permit him to take Albert to be his -companion in that delightful journey among the churches and classical -associations of Italy, to which we owe his great work on Christian Art. The -other friend, the Count de Montalembert, was younger, his heart was filled -with love of the church and of liberty; and devoting himself to their -service, with an eloquence and activity which nothing could tire, he -arrived in Italy to rejoin MM de Lamennais and Lacordaire. They set out all -three for Rome in the month of January, 1832, and nothing appears more rare -and more touching than the position of the gifted trio who arrived in the -eternal city, the first in search of beauty, the second in pursuit of -truth, and the third going unconsciously to encounter the pure love of his -life. At St. Petersburg M. de la Ferronays had become acquainted with the -family of the Count d'Alopeus, Russian minister at Berlin, whose daughter, -Alexandrine, was much attached to Albert's sisters. After the death of her -husband, in 1831, the Countess d'Alopeus came to Rome, and the young people -met for the first time on the 1st of January, 1832. - -We must read in Le Recit d'une Soeur, or rather in the story of -Alexandrine, a journal which begins at this date, the origin, the progress, -the incidents, and the development of the pure, innocent love of -Alexandrine and Albert de Ferronays; those conversations which touch so -deeply the heart; the friendship which changes into a warmer sentiment the -name of brother which no longer satisfies; and at last the words "I love -you" whispered on the steps of St. Peter's one beautiful evening in spring. -A journey to Naples united the two families at Vomero, in the pretty villa -of Trecase. We passed the greatest parts of our evenings on the terrace. -Everything was enchanting; the two gulfs, the shores, Vesuvius, the sky -gleaming with stars, the air breathing perfume above all to love--to love, -yet to be able to speak of God. Delightful and innocent hours, who would -wish to efface you from these pages, and who would wish not to have known -your happiness! - -But I hear stern voices cry out in alarm, lest this book should fall into -the hands of young girls. "This book," they say, "is not written for them." -Is it then necessary because we are Christians, to cast down our eyes and -blush, when we hear those sacred words: Reason, love, liberty? What would -life be without these words? Ah! you may allow your daughters' eyes, -without fear, to wander over these brilliant pages, if they will only turn -the leaves, and read to the end, to learn the uncertainty of human hope, -the length of human suffering, the gentle consolations of faith, and the -beauty of this holy union of tenderness and purity, under the protection of -God. - -In the month of November, it was thought better that Albert and Alexandrine -should separate. They were engaged, but one was without fortune, the other -was a Protestant. Their friends wished them to reflect, to try the strength -of their attachment. It was absence without pain, full of hope. After three -months Albert came back. -{17} -The same family life recommenced, full of little home scenes; _naïve_, -tender, sweet. This continued for three more months, short but happy, sunny -days without clouds; and doubtless the beauty of nature, the enchantment of -an innocent affection, the presence of God, formed a paradise around and -above them. - -"On Holy Thursday," wrote Alexandrine, "my mother allowed me to go with my -friends, to _Tenebrae_ at the chapel of the palace, to hear the -charming music. In spite of my frivolity, the beautiful chapel, the -singing, and above all, perhaps, the happiness of praying with Albert, -inspired me to such a degree, that I prayed with gentleness and -recollection. I was pleased to have the air of a Catholic. M. de La -Ferronays took us there, and the return on foot was delightful. It was -bright moonlight, and the air was heavy with the perfumes of spring. We -went into several churches to pray before the holy tomb. Albert and I threw -ourselves upon our knees, one besides the other, on the pavement of the -church. I remember that I felt an indescribable calm; and I don't know what -I asked from God, but I felt that we both implored his protection for us, -and that, we felt it realized." The two families separated on the 30th of -April. Alexandrine went with her mother to Germany, Madame de Ferronays -took her two oldest daughters and Albert to France, and their father placed -the two youngest in the convent de la Trinité du Mont at Rome. They left -Naples together, but separated at Civita Vecchia. Albert not feeling well, -his father kept him with him; leaving him at the inn, while he took his -wife and children to the wharf for embarkation. He embraced them, following -with his eyes the receding vessel, sending kisses from afar to the -fast-fading shadows; and then when the last faint smoke of the steamer -disappears in the circle of the horizon, he sighs, oppressed with a weight -to which all are familiar, the heavy weight of loneliness which is -inseparable from farewell words to those we love. He returned silently and -sadly to the inn, where a frightful spectacle met his eyes. Albert is -dying! They are bleeding him; one moment later he would be dead. It is -necessary to read for oneself in his own words, the letters of a father to -a mother. A father alone, a stranger in an inn, beside the deathbed of his -child. "We were kept in an agony of suspense from three o'clock until -seven. At seven the perspiration which, until then, had resisted all our -efforts, this welcome perspiration showed itself, and became excessive. O -my friend! with what faith, with what fervor of gratitude, I thanked -heaven! How everything changes its nature and aspect when we nurse an -invalid whom we love! The physicians say that this dreadful crisis will -re-establish his health. He is saved! O my God! I Frank thee! for today I -can feel only joy. O all you who are loved by heaven! give thanks for me, -and ask God to smite me, but to spare my poor children." During this time -Mademoiselle Alopeus had arrived in Rome, and was once more amid the scenes -and associates where she first met Albert, when she learned that, instead -of returning to France, he was dying at Civita Vecchia. In despair, she -wrote to him, and wished to fly to him; she could not do so, and she -quitted Rome without seeing him, feeling that he was only more dear to her -because she had so nearly lost him. "At Viterbo," she writes, "where we -slept, I heard them speak of the death of a young man, whose body was -exposed in the neighboring church; this distressed me. I could not bear to -hear anything that reminded me that Albert could die." - - - Eugenie To Alexandrine. - -"I pray for you, for you and Pauline, for Pauline and you. I do not mention -Albert. Albert is comprehended in you; it is the same prayer. God has loved -him; God has spared him. God will bless him, and to bless him is to bless -you. With what fervor have I repeated my favorite prayer that God would -take my share of happiness and unite it to yours, that you may have a -double portion. -{18} -This desire realized would insure my bliss." In order that nothing might be -wanting in this union of noble souls, Albert, just convalescent, writes to -his friends, Montalembert and Rio, letters full of energy and confidence. -Calm and serenity succeeded to this anxiety and disquiet. We find the two -families united at Rome in September, 1833, where the young sister, Olga, -makes her first communion. They then went to Naples, where Albert met them, -looking so well that his health had never seemed so perfectly established. -It was Alexandrine's health which, at this time, gave them cause for -anxiety. Her mind was distressed, though she did her best to conceal her -trouble. Her mother had not failed during their travels in Germany to -represent to her Albert's bad health and his poverty. Happily he had -recovered his health, but he was still poor. I do not know what prudent -parents will say, but I agree with Monsieur de la Ferronays, who wrote thus -to his wife: "They will be poor, but they will be truly happy. I have -neither the courage nor the wish to oppose them; you will not be more cruel -than I am." Alexandrine was still suffering. She was lying sadly on the -sofa one evening at twilight, when her sister came to her, and told her -that her wishes were realized; that she might look upon Albert as her -future husband. These joyful tidings worked her cure--happiness is the best -medicine. The marriage of Monsieur and Madame Albert de la Ferronays was -preceded by that of the Countess d'Alopeus with the Prince Paul Lepoukhyn. -Many dreary months of waiting elapsed, but I will not resume the letters at -this period--one word is sufficient. Lovers are always permitted to repeat -the same things. It was at this time that the sad revolt of M. de Lamennais -took place, and Albert causelessly, but nobly anxious, writes thus to his -friend: "Let us throw ourselves at the foot of the cross, which is the -foundation of the church, not to undermine her, but to support and defend -her; but, above all, I pray you do not commit yourself to M. de Lamennais. -You know the happiness which is to be mine in the spring; but I will -postpone it and fly to you if you wish me to do so." To these enthusiastic -words his friend replied: "There is not a word in your letter which does -not accord with all I have thought and desired. I used every effort to -induce M. de Lamennais to do as I have done--to bow to the inscrutable -dispensations of providence; and humbly, and with docility, to await the -will of heaven." But we must leave the two friends to return to the -preparations for the marriage, which was at last celebrated on the 17th of -April, 1834. In the evening a carriage took Albert and Alexandrine to -Castellamare. They were handsome, talented, good, and happy, and they -loved. - -Blissful dream! which as yet knew no awakening. If we could judge of life -by outward appearances, we would believe that these bright anticipations -would last for ever. All the family rejoined the newly married couple at -Castellamare. "A staircase, embowered by vines and roses, led to the pretty -house, the ground floor of which, occupied by Albert and Alexandrine, -opened by large windows into the garden. Charles and Emma occupied the -first floor; my parents, Fernand, my sisters and myself the second, and at -each story these terraces communicated by outside staircases. We were -always in communication by these terraces, and were only too glad of an -excuse to be together, for never was a family more perfectly, more happily -united." The sister who painted this little picture, which seems bathed in -sunlight, added to the happiness of all during this pleasant summer, by her -marriage; and her younger sister, Eugenie, melancholy and enthusiastic, -overpowered with happiness, exclaimed, "Oh! if life is so delightful, what -must be the joy of heaven; death is then better than all!" -{19} -From Castellamare they went to Sorrento, thence to Rome, then to Pisa, -where they spent the winter, and where they were joined by their faithful -friend, like themselves young, intelligent, and amiable. "You can imagine," -wrote Albert to his sister, "that he does not render our life less -charming." "He left us in tears," writes Alexandrine. This friend was the -Count de Montalembert. From Pisa M. and Madame de la Ferronays embarked for -Naples in the month of March, and thence a month later for Malta, _en -route_ for the east. This journey was full of amusing and piquant little -incidents. Friendship and affection followed them wherever they went. What -delight to visit Castellamare, Sorrento, Pisa, Naples, Malta, Smyrna, -Constantinople, Odessa, Vienna, Venice, at twenty years of age with hearts -full of love! "The dim light of my lamp falling on her dear head--is not -this worth all the world?" writes Albert. Alexandrine was filled with -enthusiasm on returning to Italy. "O dear Italy!" she cries, "I return to -thee for the ninetieth time, and always with renewed pleasure." But alas! -this journey, made under these happy auspices, resembled the course of the -inhabitant of the seas whom the harpoon of the fisherman has wounded, and -who plunges and escapes in agitation and affright, carrying the iron in his -side. The health of Albert and the religion of Alexandrine were the two -poisons hidden under this smiling exterior. Ten days after his marriage, -Albert in putting his handkerchief to his mouth, drew it away covered with -blood. At Pisa he was better, at Constantinople quite well, at Rouen he was -at death's-door. At Venice he was again better, and the husband and wife -went together to Lido. - -While the wife was disturbed for the health of her husband, he was -trembling for more important interests. From the commencement of their -love, Albert's most ardent desire had been to see Alexandrine kneel at the -same altar, and practice the same faith, as himself. This hope seemed sure -of realization when they married, for God was ever with them in their -happiest hours; since their marriage a feeling of delicacy had kept them -silent on the great subjects of conversion. Albert did not wish that -Alexandrine should be constrained by her affection for him, and she feared -for herself the same powerful influence. She was not willing to sacrifice -her reason to the dictates of her heart, and dreading the displeasure of -her mother, she dreaded still more the censures of conscience. She desired -to submit to conviction, and to resist the pleadings of her love. We -recognize here the transparent sincerity of a character of which Albert -said truly, "I never saw in her the slightest affectation." - -Thus Albert's health and Alexandrine's religion agitated them both with a -constant, silent anxiety, which introduces something tragical and sorrowful -into their history. Being prevented by his health from devoting himself to -the service of his country and his church, Albert had concentrated all his -desires on the establishment of truth in the heart dearest to him. Nothing -could be more touching than Alexandrine's care for Albert's health. The -charming Swede, the graceful daughter of the North, the belle of the -Neapolitan _fêtes_, was transformed into the attentive nurse, hiding -her fears, and accepting disagreeable duties. Shut up in a sick room, -closing with her delicate fingers the curtains, while Albert was asleep, -weeping while he slept, and, smiling when he woke. At this cruel moment -hope is absent; sorrow extends still more and more her heavy icy hand over -this hitherto so happy pair. Albert, at Venice, became so ill that they -sent for his family. They come, they see him, he is dying, but he is -consumed with an irresistible desire to revisit his country. They set out -in a carriage at short journeys. They leave Venice the 10th of April, and -arrive in Paris on the 11th of May. -{20} -On the 26th Albert is established 13 Rue de Madame, in a hired room near -the Luxembourg. He is a little better and much happier, for he is in -France, surrounded by his friends. They are young, they are good, they are -happy--why then, death, sickness, and the crushing sorrow of approaching -separation? Why all this anguish at once--conversion refused to the prayers -of Albert--recovery refused to the tears of Alexandrine? O God! where art -thou? Thou art absent when they all wait for thee. Thou wert the witness of -their innocent love, the author of their union. Thou wert with them when -they were happy, and now they suffer, they cry, and thou dost not hear, and -yet they have had days of perfect happiness and a youth without clouds. -Thou didst create them. Thou hast forsaken them. - -Thou permittest that they should be afflicted, and when they cry, thou wilt -not answer. Why didst thou say by thy prophet, "Before they call I will -answer. As they are yet speaking, I will hear." Thy promises but add to -their sufferings the pain of disappointed hope. O God! where art thou? With -their hearts wrung by the same sorrow, the disciples were walking on the -road to Emmaus, when meeting a stranger they confided to him their trouble. -"We hoped that it was he who would have redeemed Israel, and to-day is the -third day since these things were done." They did not know that God was -present, though hidden from them in the silence of the little chamber, -where these poor Jews, who represent too well our patience so soon -exhausted, and our unworthy dejection, were sadly assembled together. -Suddenly their hearts awoke and they recognized in the breaking of bread -this ever-present God who gives himself to us as the pledge of future -immortality. The miracle of the little cottage of Emmaus is enacted every -day, and was visible at the death-bed of Albert de La Ferronays. Already at -Venice, during the night of the 6th of March, Albert appeared oppressed in -his sleep, and Alexandrine, overwhelmed by the agony of the coming -separation, watched by his bed. "At half-past five," she writes, "the color -left his lips, he spoke with effort and desired me to send for his -confessor. 'Has it come to this? Has it come to this?' I cried; then I -added at the same moment, 'now I am a Catholic.' In pronouncing these -words, firmness, if not happiness, filled my heart." On the 14th of March -she wrote to her mother a truly sublime letter, which I will quote at -length. "From love and respect to you, my mother, I have not inquired into -the claims of the Catholic religion for fear that I should find it true, -and I should be forced to embrace it. But now I am possessed with an -irresistible desire to belong to the same faith as my Albert. At no price, -however, not even to soften the death-bed of my husband, would I act -disloyally toward God. Be assured, I shall not act without conviction. Dear -mother, allow me to be instructed, and when you meet again your poor -widowed daughter, ah! you will not repine at her being a Catholic. If the -Catholic Church had no other advantage over ours than that she prays for -the dead, I should prefer her." On his side Albert, with his dying hand, -traced in his journal these words, which were his last: "O Lord! I implored -thee by day and by night, Give her to me, grant me this joy if it only -lasts for one day. Thou heardest me, O God! why should I complain. My -happiness was complete, if it was short, and now thou hast granted the rest -of my prayers, and my dear one is about to enter the bosom of the church, -thus giving me the assurance that I shall see her again in that happy home -where we shall both be lost in the beatific vision of thy boundless love." -On the 27th of May, 1836, Madame de Ferronays knelt before an altar, -arranged in her husband's room, on which the Abbé Martin de Mourien -celebrated mass, and made her profession of the Catholic faith. -{21} -On the night of the 5th or 7th of June, she received her first communion at -the same mass where Albert received his last. I will describe this pathetic -scene in the words of Alexandrine herself. "Albert was in bed, be had not -been able to rise. I knelt beside him, I took his hand, it was thus that we -commenced the mass of Abbé Gerbert. As the mass advanced, Albert made me -let fall his hand, this dear hand that was to me so sacred that in the most -solemn hour of life I felt that I did not offend God in retaining it. -Albert drew it from me, exclaiming, 'Go, go, belong only to God.' The Abbé -Gerbert addressed a few words to me before giving me communion, then be -gave it to Albert, then again I took his beloved hand; we expected every -moment would be his last." No book could contain, no imagination could -depict a scene more tenderly, more profoundly pathetic. At this point we -read no more, we weep; it is to thee, O God! that the soul turns, to thee -that the soul ascends, to thee who truly and really wert present in his -chamber of suffering, walking so to speak on the waves of death, and -saying, "Fear not, I am with thee." O my Protestant brethren: it is to you -that this page seems to be dedicated; it is you who have formed the -character of this young girl; it is to you that she owes the habit of -living in the presence of God, to you she owes the loyalty, the perfect -sincerity of her intentions and the zeal with which she purifies her -conscience; at each moment guarding it as a stainless mirror which must -ever reflect the image of God. She followed _you_ on the road to -Emmaus, where Jesus explained to his disciples the sacred Scriptures; but -like the disciples she has thrown down the book, it could not satisfy her; -she has followed God to his holy table. By the bed of death, on the edge of -the yawning abyss of irreparable separation, hymns and words disappear like -useless sounds and barren discourses. Famished for hope and for -consolation, the soul has need of stronger food. She must tear down the -veil, and lay hold of God. O my Protestant brethren! read this history of a -Christian, who was yours until the moment when stretching out her -despairing hands toward nothingness, she came to us to be united in God -with her dying husband. Read the sad but striking description of the days -that follow the first communion. It is to you that I would dedicate the -story of this sublime agony, accompanied so tenderly by the church to the -last sigh of the passing soul. - -On the 27th of June, after two years of married life, at twenty-two years -of age, Albert returned to God! - -Is not this sad enough? Why should we continue after such scenes? What new -spectacle can move us? We have known the bride, the wife. We are going to -follow the widow; to follow her from the extremity of human sorrow, to -consolation, even to joy and love, reformed again in God. The only -difference between the widow of India burned in the ashes of her husband -and the Christian widow, is that the Christian is consumed more slowly. She -waits for death, instead of seeking it; from the first day of bereavement -an invisible fire, which nothing can extinguish, saps the spring of her -life. - -The first moments are the most cruel, but they are not the hardest to -endure; when one can say yesterday, the day before yesterday, it is only -absence, it is not the abyss of an irreparable adieu. - - - Alexandrine to Pauline. - "Boury, July 10, 1836. - - "Pauline--Pauline! I could have written to you on the 29th of June, had I - not been occupied with other things. I repeat, I could have done it. God - has given me the power to do and to endure much far beyond all I ever - believed possible, for have I not seen the eyes of Albert close in death? - have I not felt his hand grow cold for ever? Eugenie will tell you that - God has granted me that which I asked of him. He died resting in my arms, - my hand in his. -{22} - Alone, and very quietly, I closed his dear eyes, deprived of sight, and - perhaps of feeling. I whispered close into his ear the name so beloved, - Albert! I had nothing more tender to say to him than this word which - expressed everything I felt. I wished that the last sound which should - fall upon his ear should be my voice, growing fainter and fainter until - it was lost in the distance and darkness of that gloomy passage, which - leads at last into the light. Alas! my voice, like myself, was obliged to - remain on the confines, obliged for the first time to be separated from - him. O Pauline! I was strong then, unnaturally strong. I was still - stronger for three days, then I commenced to grow weaker and weaker, and - each morning I seemed feebler than the night before." - -This estimable widow of twenty years, always ardent and always perfectly -natural, expresses a truth even in her first sensations. Little by little -sorrow intensifies, courage fails, despair commences. The sympathy of -friends, which had until then a little occupied, distracted, and deadened -the pain, without healing it, becomes colder and more distant, and the soul -is enveloped in the icy shades of silence and solitude. - - - Alexandrine to Pauline. - - "To tell me at my age that all happiness is passed, that makes me - shudder, and yet my only rest will be to feel entirely inconsolable, for - I should loathe myself if I felt that I could again enjoy the amusements - of life, or look upon the world otherwise than I do now. Albert was to me - the light which colored everything. With him pearls, jewels, pretty - rooms, beautiful scenery, appeared to me lovely. Now, nothing charms me. - I have but one wish, to know where he is. To see if he is happy, if he - loves me still; to share all things with him _now_ as I promised to - do on earth before God." - -Yes, the faithful widow sees nothing, she is ever with the absent; it is -not he who is dead, it is the world which has gone from her, which is -shrouded in darkness. But in the long weary hours, when she listens to the -plaintive murmurings of her own heart, the Christian widow hears another -voice of heavenly music, and angels whisper in her ear those gentle words, -"Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted." "Blessed are the -pure in heart, for they shall see God." It is not only in heaven that pure -hearts see God, they see him everywhere on earth, in all objects, in all -creatures--in all events they recognize him, they contemplate him. An -unexpected brightness is introduced little by little into this desolate -life. The world is colored anew; obscured by sorrow, it is transfigured by -faith. - -She who is afflicted is not consoled, she is accepted, supported; from this -day a miracle commences. She whose affections have been riven, seeks to -love again in making friends for him whom she has lost, in interesting for -him the saints whom she invokes, the poor whom she assists. Some days after -the death of Albert, Alexandrine sold a beautiful pearl collar, a relic of -happy days, and she wrote: - - "Pearls! symbol of tears! - Pearls! tears of the sea, - Gathered with tears in the depths of the ocean, - Worn often with tears in the midst of the pleasures of the world; - Resigned to-day with tears in the greatest of human sorrows, - Go, dry tears, by changing into bread." - -The love of the poor became for this young Christian a sublime -consolation--the love of Jesus Christ in the persons of the poor--the love -of the poor in the thought of Albert. To love the unhappy when we are -unhappy is an exquisite sign of perfection in our poor human nature, but a -sign happily very common. Is it not much more difficult when we suffer to -love the happy--not to be impatient of their pleasures, to lend ourselves -to them, and though our own hearts are for ever shut against joy, to be -able to rejoice with those who rejoice? Le Récit d'une Soeur shows us the -Christian widow in the midst of her family, among her young sisters and -brothers, smiling, amiable, communicating, no doubt, by her presence to the -pleasures of the house the tinge of melancholy which ever belongs to the -joys or earth. - -{23} - -The commencement of the second volume of Madame Craven's history is -occupied with the _tableau_ of the interior of her family, who were -united at the Chateau of Boury during the years 1836, '37, and '38, which -followed the death of M. Albert de la Ferronays. Obliged, by the diplomatic -career of her husband, to change frequently her residence--to go from -Naples to Lisbon, to London, to Carlsruhe, to Brussels--Madame Craven was -almost always separated from her parents and her sisters. To this -separation we owe the correspondence which serves today to interest and -console us. - -The description of the interior of the Chateau de Boury, depicted in these -letters, resembles a conversation, where each speaks in his turn and with -his own peculiar accent. But I will pass over this family picture to return -to Madame Albert de la Ferronays, the principal character in my story. - -In the month of October, 1837, they removed the body of Albert to Boury, in -order to bury it in a sepulchre, where they had arranged two places without -separation. - - "Yesterday, alone with Julia, by the aid or a little ladder, Alexandrine - descended into the excavation in order to touch and to kiss, for the last - time, the coffin in which is enclosed all that she loves. In doing this - she was on her knees in her own tomb. On the stone she had engraved: - 'What God hath put together, let no man put asunder.'" - -In 1838 she rejoined her mother in Germany, where she spent the second -anniversary of the 29th of June. From Ischl she wrote to her sister a -touching description of the death of a young priest, who died of -consumption eleven months after his ordination. From Germany Madame de la -Ferronays went to Lumigny, from thence to Boury; and when the family -resolved to pass the winter of 1839 in Italy, she returned with a sad -delight to this beautiful country, where she had been so happy. She wished -to revisit all the scenes of her past happiness--to see again the rocks, -the trees, the mountains, which had been witnesses of her felicity--not -without tears, but without complaining; with the sweet serenity of perfect -resignation. "It is here," she said, "that I have been so full of bliss -that this world and life appeared too beautiful." After the description of -the second journey to Italy, there follows the account of the successive -deaths of M. de la Ferronays and the young daughters, Olga and Eugenie. At -this time, always absolutely sincere, incapable in anything of being -carried away by feeling, Alexandrine thought of entering a convent; she -relinquished the idea, but resolved to live in poverty for the poor. From -this day she dreams no more, she writes no more, she acts. Her love -expresses itself in joyous accents, in words of heavenly sweetness, -accompanied by austere virtues. It is the miracle and the triumph of true -piety, What is this? demands a disdainful world. Who is this devotee, -draped in black, who ventures out in the most inclement season, laden with -bundles? Has she paralyzed her heart? Does she love no one? Is she a piece -of mechanism, passing from the dreary garret to the dark cellar in the poor -neighborhood which surrounds her? No; this widow is a great lady, bearing -one of the oldest names of France. She is going to visit the dying, to -supply them with clothes and food, to teach their ignorant children; and on -her return she takes her pen, and from this heart, which you believe cold -and frozen, flow forth these words: "O my dear sister! can I fill you with -joy and courage in writing? Would that it were in my power; you do not know -how I love you, but you will know in eternity, where we shall enjoy each -other's love fully and completely." - -{24} - -This devotee paid a visit to another devotee, an old Russian lady, of whom -she writes: "I have seen Madame Swetchine; this delightful, excellent woman -told me that we ought not to speak ill of life, for it is full of beauty; -and yet this woman, so tender and so pious, is overwhelmed with moral and -physical suffering. She said to me, 'I love what _is_, because it is -true; I am contented.' The longer I live the more I wish to have my heart -filled with love, and only with love." Of all Alexandrine's former -pleasures, the sole relaxations she permitted herself were music and -reading. Part of her time she spent in Paris in the hospitals, which she -entered with the joyous, animated air of a young girl who sets out for a -_fête_, or a warrior who returns from battle. She ended by hiring a -little room in the Rue de Sèvres in order to live more plainly. Her -sisters, in looking into her wardrobe, found that it contained nothing. She -had robbed herself to give to the poor. This noble woman had but one cause ---the cause of God. She became the generous servant, almost the soldier of -the church, interesting herself in the cause of freedom, contributing to -foreign missions, seconding the educational projects of her friend, M. de -Montalembert; and, from the quiet of her little chamber, giving forth her -money and her prayers for the service of God. Madame Craven, in a letter, -dated the 31st of July, thus writes: "The evening of my departure from -Boury we went into the cemetery to pray. Alexandrine knelt beside Albert's -tomb, on the spot which, twelve years before, had been prepared for -herself. I was on my knees, by Olga. The night was warm and beautiful. As -we strolled slowly home, I turned and admired the setting sun, which was -embellishing, with its many colored rays, this sad spot. 'I love the -setting sun,' I exclaimed. 'Since my sorrow,' replied Alexandrine, 'the -setting sun makes me sad. It is the precursor of night. I do not like the -night. I love the morning and the spring--they bring before me the reality -of life that never ends. Night represents to me darkness and sin; evening -the transitory nature of the world; but morning and spring give me promise -of the resurrection and renewal of all things.' As we continued our walk, -Alexandrine said: 'Rest assured that all that pleases us most upon earth is -but a shadow; that the reality is alone in heaven. What is there upon earth -so sweet as to love? And I ask you if it is not easy to conceive that the -love of the divine love ought to be the perfection of this sweetness?--and -is not this the love of Jesus Christ? I should never have been comforted if -I had not learnt that this love exists for God, and is everlasting.' I -replied, 'You are very happy so to love God.' She answered me--and her -words, her expression, her attitude will remain ever engraved on my -memory--'O Pauline! should I not love God? should I not be transported -with joy when I think of him? How can you imagine there is any merit in -this, even that of faith, when I think of the miracle that he has wrought -in my soul? I loved, and desired the joy of earth--it was given to me. I -lost it, and I was overwhelmed with despair. Yet, to-day my soul is so -transformed that all the happiness I have ever known pales and grows dim in -comparison with the felicity with which God has filled my soul.' Surprised -to hear her speak thus, I said: 'If you had offered to you a long life to -be spent with Albert, would you accept it?' She replied, without -hesitation. 'I would not take it.' This was our last conversation, and as I -saw her then I see her now, with a flower of jessamine in her hand, her -face lighted up with heavenly beauty; and so she will ever appear to me -until I meet her again where there will be no more parting.' Alexandrine -died some months after, on the 9th of February, 1848. - -If the angels could die, they would die as she did. Her last words to -Albert's mother were: "Tell Pauline it is so sweet to die." - -{25} - -On the 14th of November of the same year, Madame de la Ferronays rejoined -her husband, her son, and her three daughters. On the tombs of Albert, -Alexandrine, Olga, and Eugenie, and of their father and mother, one single -epitaph is necessary. It comprehends their life; it is the epitome of their -faith; it is the conclusion, the explanation, the design of this book: -"Love is stronger than death." - ------- - - Original - - The Church And The Sinner. - - - The Church - - Prithee, why continue eating, - Child, the husks of swine? - Thou thy soul art only cheating - With this food of thine. - - - The Sinner. - - Other food hath long been wasted, - Mother, by my sin; - All its empty joys are tasted, - Sorrows now begin. - - - The Church. - - Hadst thou not a loving Father, - Child, and happy home? - There with him have rested, rather - Shouldst thou than to roam. - - - The Sinner. - - Yes; but he his now degraded - Son would never know; - From his memory I have faded, - Mother, long ago. - - - The Church. - - Child, the Father ne'er forgetteth - Whom he called his son, - To him naught but pride now letteth - Not thy feet to run. - - - The Sinner. - - Worthy for his lowly servant - Am I not, I know; - Yet with love and sorrow fervent - Will arise, and go! - ------- - -{26} - - From The Dublin University Magazine. - - Modern Writers Of Spain. - -The literary portion of English and French people take little interest -about what philosophers and romance writers are doing on the outer borders -of Europe. Scarcely does an editor of a literary journal direct his -subscribers' attention to the current literature of Russia, Norway, Spain, -or Portugal. The most universally-read Englishman would be puzzled if you -asked him who is the Dickens or the Braddon of Transylvania, or if anything -worth reading has lately appeared in the Portuguese province of Alentejo. -Thanks to the talents and the genial disposition of Frederica Bremer, and -the vigorous and original character of Emily Carlen's novels, and the -interest excited for Norse literature by William and Mary Howitt, we have -become familiarized with the popular literature of Sweden. Worsae and -Andersen have made us attend to literary sayings and doings among the -meadows and beech woods and _havns_ of the Danish Isles. The efforts -of Count Sollogub and one or two other enlightened Russians have failed to -dispel our apathy on the subject of native Russian literature, and at this -moment we can recollect among the contents of our own reviews and magazines -for five or six years back, only two notices of the productions of living -Spanish novelist or romancist. Either we (English and French) are too much -absorbed in our own literature, and consequently negligent of that of our -neighbors, or those neighbors are producing nothing worthy [of] notice, and -in either case our efforts will scarcely turn public attention into a new -channel. Our intention is merely to advert to some literary features in the -life of the Spain of the present day. We shall not find her altogether -neglectful of the claims of her children who are at the moment striving to -add to her literary renown. - - - Cervantes Remembered Too Late. - -There is something very saddening in those solemnities held in honor of -departed genius. We see much time taken from necessary business, much -eloquence wasted--often with a side glance toward self-glorification, and -much money thrown away, which, if once timely and prudently used, would -have relieved the anxieties and cheered the existence of the ill-favored -son of genius. - -In the article on Cervantes which appeared in the University for August, -[Footnote 2] allusion was made to his imprisonment and harsh treatment in a -certain town of La Mancha. It is the same whose name, he says, in the -commencement of Don Quixote, he does not choose to remember. It has been -ascertained that this village of unenviable reputation is Argamasilla; and -the very house where he resided against his will, and dreamily arranged the -plan of his prose epic, has been identified. The Infanta Don Sebastian has -purchased it, with a view to its preservation, and a patriotic and spirited -printer, Don Manuel de Ribadeneira, has obtained permission to work off two -impressions there of the Life and Adventures of the ingenious Hidalgo, Don -Quixote. One is, in the Paris idiom, an edition of luxury, intended for the -libraries and _salons_ of the great, the other a carefully executed -but low-priced edition for the populace. - - [Footnote 2: See Catholic World for October, 1886.] - -{27} - -The English cannot be accused of having neglected their own Cervantes in -his need. He appears to have united to his comprehensive and mighty genius, -good business habits, consulted the tastes of his public while endeavoring -to improve them, watched the behavior of his door-keepers, and though -probably not a rigid self-denier, made his outlay fall far short of his -income, and enjoyed some years of life in respectable retirement. So his -countrymen feeling no remorse on his account, show their respect for his -memory by eating and drinking heartily on stated occasions, and boring each -other with stereotyped speeches. When suitable days for jubilees or -centenaries or tercentenaries arrive, they take more trouble on themselves. -They journey to a small town in Warwickshire, and celebrate the event in as -tiresome a fashion as if they were members of the "British Association for -bettering the Universe," under all the inconveniences of crowded rooms, -crowded vehicles going and coming, and dear hotels. They manage matters of -the kind in Spain with a difference. - -Some years since a statue was erected to Cervantes in front of the Congress -building, and the historian, Antonio Cavanilles, took occasion to mention -the opinion of the ghost of the great Spaniard on the matter in a dialogue -held between them. - - "During my life they left me in poverty. Now they raise statues which are - of no manner of use to me, and they never celebrate a mass for the repose - of my soul--a thing of which I have much need." - -Whether the Marquis of Molins, the same gentleman who superintended the -editions of Don Quixote at Argamasilla, took this appeal to heart or not, -it is certain that since the year 1862 a solemn high mass and office have -been celebrated for the above-mentioned purpose before the Royal Academy of -Madrid. M. Antoine de Latour, [Footnote 3] in his Études Littéraires sur -l'Espagne Moderne, has left an account of one of these solemnities, some -particulars of which are worth being presented. - - [Footnote 3: This gifted and agreeable writer was born at Sainte Yrieix - (Haute Vienne) in 1818, and educated at the college of Dijon. He held - professorships at the College Bourbon and the college Henri Quatre. - Louis Philippe confided to him the education of the young Duc de - Montpensier, and in 1848 he shared the exile of the house of Orleans. - He made his literary _début_ in poetry, his other productions - being an Essay on the History of France in the Nineteenth Century, an - Account of the Duc de Montpensier's Journey to the East, and and essays - on Luther, Racan, Vertot, Malherbe. &c. He has resided for a - considerable time in Spain, and written four or five works Spanish - subjects.] - -In 1616 Cervantes was interred in the church of the Convent of the -Trinitarians, where his daughter had taken the veil. Some fifteen years -afterward the community removed to the site now occupied by them, and the -impression is strong that in the removal the remains of the poet were -brought to their own house, his daughter being alive, or but recently dead -at the time. In the chapel of their convent the annual solemnity takes -place on the 16th April. The convent stands in the street called after -Cervantes' contemporary and dramatic rival, Lope de Vega. We proceed with -M. de Latour's account of what he witnessed. - -Our visitor found the chapel hung with black cloth trimmed with gold -fringe. In the centre was a catafalque on which rested the habit of St. -Francis borne by Cervantes during the last three years of his life, a -sword, prison-fetters, a crown of laurel, and a copy of the first edition -of Don Quixote. At each corner of the catafalque stood a disabled soldier, -and at each side, and extending the whole length of the chapel, ran two -lines of seats for the members of the various academies. - -At the lower end of the chapel, on seats connecting the extremities of the -long rows mentioned, sat the Alcaid, the rector of the University, and the -curé of Alcala de Henares, Cervantes' birthplace, where the record of his -baptism was discovered some time since. - -{28} - -Among the remarkable personages met to celebrate the occasion, M. de Latour -noticed the Marquis de Molins, its institutor; M. Hartzembuch, a dramatic -poet, an idolizer of Cervantes, and the zealous superintendent of the two -Argamasilla editions of the Don; Ventum de la Vega, the Marquis de Santa -Cruz, whose ancestor fought at Lepanto, and Antonio Cavanilles, the eminent -historian before mentioned. Seated behind the academicians were the most -illustrious ladies of Spain, all appropriately attired in mourning dress. - -The Archbishop of Seville celebrated high mass, the different parts of -which were accompanied with music as old as the days of Cervantes himself. -The distinguished composer, Don Francisco Asenjo Barbieri, had sought these -pieces out with much trouble, some of them having for a long time been only -heard in the Sistine chapel at Rome. We subjoin the openings of some of -these, with the authors and dates. - -_Regem cui omnia vivunt_ (the king by whom all things live) was -composed by Don Melchior Robledo, chapel master in Saragossa in 1569, the -same year when Cervantes' little collection of elegiac poems on Queen -Isabel appeared. - -_Domine in furore tuo_ (Lord (rebuke) me not in thy fury) was the -composition of Don Andres Lorente, organist in Alcala de Henares, -Cervantes' birthplace. He himself probably heard it sung there in his -youth. - -_Versa est in luctum cithara mea_ (my harp has changed to sorrow) was -composed for the funeral of Philip II. by Don Alfonso Lobo. - -_Libera me_ (deliver me), the composition of Don Matias Romero, Chapel -Master to Philip III., dates from about the death of Cervantes. - -Don Francisco de Paula Benavides, the young bishop of Siguenza, preached -the sermon. Taking his text from St. Paul, "Being dead he still speaketh -through faith," he proceeded with the panegyric of the great-souled poet -and soldier, and of all the illustrious dead who have honourcd Spain by -their writings. He did not neglect to interest the nuns, who were listening -with all their might behind their lattices. Their order had been -instrumental in restoring the brave Saavedra to his country, and to their -exertions Spain and the world were in part indebted for the Don Quixote and -the Exemplary Novels. They possessed the remains of the poet in their -house, and thus bound to his memory they must not omit the care of his -salvation to their prayers. The delivery of the discourse, according to M. -Latour, was marked with a noble simplicity, and a manner combining -sweetness with vigour. - -Next morning he returned to the convent, hoping to be gratified with the -sight of Cervantes' tomb. Alas! he learned that when the remains were -transferred from the old house, sufficient attention was not paid to keep -them apart from those of others who were removed along with them. So, -though it is morally certain that the present convent of the Trinitarians -guards all that remains of the body, once so full of life and active -energy, they are now undistinguishable from the relics of the nameless -individuals who had received interment in the same building. - - - The Modern Novel: - Donna Caecelia De Faber. - -We are not to imagine Spain insensible to the merits of her living gifted -sons and daughters, and ever employed in shedding tears over the tombs of -her Cervantes, her Lope de Vega, or her Mendoza. No. She possesses living -writers whose names are not only known from Andaluçia to Biscay, but are -even spoken of in Paris _salons_. The most distinguished among these -is the lady who chooses to style herself _Fernan Caballero_, her real -name being Caecilia de Faber, her birthplace Alorges in Switzerland, and -her father, M. Bohl de Faber, a Hamburgh merchant, and consul for that city -at Cadiz. - -{29} - -She has been married more than once, and thus enabled to combine experience -with natural ability in her pictures of life and manners. Through the favor -of the queen she holds apartments in the Alcazar of Seville, and the -splendid old Moorish city could not possess a writer better qualified to -paint the manners of the little-doing, much-enjoying people of that -southern paradise, Andalulçia, and the delights of the happy climate, where -life is not only supportable, but enjoyable at very small expense. - -Besides happily seizing and vividly sketching what takes place among the -aristocracy of Seville in their Patios [Footnote 4] and Tertulias (reunions -in their _salons_), this authoress has made herself thoroughly -acquainted with the circumstances and characters and peculiar customs of -the country laborers and shepherds. Melodramatic situations abound in some -of them, and perhaps these are more relished by her Spanish readers than -others whose chief merit consists in truthful and picturesque tableaux of -the order of things among which they are placed, and which consequently -possesses no novelty for them. We can readily conceive how French and -English students of her novels and romances would prefer this latter class -for their entertainment. Who would not rather listen to a couple of -Andaluçian peasants discussing the clime and people of Britain than to some -terrible, exciting though undignified, domestic tragedy? (_A_. is -dissuading _B_. from making the voyage to Britain.) - - "_A_. The earth is there covered with so deep a crust of snow that - people are buried in it. - - "_B_. Most Blessed Mary! But they are quiet folk, and do not carry - stilettoes. - - "_A_. They have no olives, no gaspacho, [footnote 5] and must put - up with black bread, potatoes, and milk. - - "_B_. Much good may it do them. - - [Footnote 4: The Patios are the interior flagged courts surrounded by - colonnades from the roof of which lamps are suspended. In the centre of - the court is a fountain surrounded by shrubs in fruit or flower. Seated - on sofas in the corridor, or on carpets near the fountain, the princely - owners enjoy an elysium during hot weather.] - - [Footnote 5: Soup made up of olive oil, vinegar, spices, etc.] - - "_A_. The worst is, there are neither monks nor nuns there; the - churches are few, and the walls of them as bare as if they were - hospitals; no private chapels, no altars, no crucifixion. - - "_B_. Oh, my sun, my white bread, my church, my Maria Santissima, my - delightful land, my Dios Sacramentado! How could I think to change you - for that land of snow, of black bread, of bare-walled churches, of - heretics? Horrible!" - -Fernan Caballero enters with warm-hearted sympathy into the pleasures and -troubles of her country people. Few could read without interest her sketch -of the peasants returning at evening from their work. We fancy Sancho Panza -and a neighbor coming home to meet the greeting of Tereza and his children, -himself mounted on _Dapple_, while the little foal frolics about, -unconscious of its own future life of labor. Sancho carries a basket of -fruit and vegetables covered with the sappy maize stalks, which will -furnish a delightful supper to the patient _burra_. Sancho's neighbor -is riding beside him, and you will hear in a quarter of an hour of their -conversation more proverbs than John Smith and Tom Brown would quote in -seven years. The burras quicken their pace as they approach the village, -for the children of both men are running to meet them, while their wives -are looking out for them from the porches of their doors. Sancho dismounts -and sets his younger child on Dapple, while his elder frolics about her and -makes free with her ears. Sancho's neighbor gets his youngest into his lap, -while one of the elder boys takes the halter and the other gambols about -with the trusty house dog, asses and dog being much better treated than if -their lot lay in Berkshire or Donegal. - -With their innumerable rhymed proverbs, their chatty propensities, their -happy clime, fine country, facility of procuring a livelihood, few wants, -and lively and happy temperaments, the Andaluçian peasants afford suitable -subjects to Fernan Caballero's pencil. -{30} -They see in the many natural advantages they possess, the goodness of God -and the favors of the saints; and their pious legends, in connection with -every object round them, are innumerable. "Toads and serpents are useful in -absorbing the poisonous exhalations of the earth; the serpent attempted to -bite the Holy Infant on the journey into Egypt, so Saint Joseph appointed -him to creep on his belly thenceforth. Some trees have the privilege of -permanent foliage because they sheltered the HOLY FAMILY on the same -journey. The Blessed Virgin hung the clothes of the Infant Jesus on a -rosemary bush to dry, so its sweetest perfume and brightest blossoms are -reserved for Friday. The swallow plucked some of the thorns out of the -Saviour's crown, therefore he is a favorite bird with all Christians, while -the owl is obliged to keep his eyes shut and whimper out, '_cruz, -cruz,_' because he irreverently stared at our suffering Lord on the -cross. The hedgehog should be well treated, because he presented to the -Blessed Virgin some sweet apples on the tips of his prickles, while the -earwig is deservedly hated for boring his way into, and effectually -spoiling the nicest of them." Most of these poetically develop fancies are -or were familiar with the Roman Catholic peasantry of Ireland, and probably -amongst the populace of moat continental countries. - -Perhaps the most powerful of our authoress's stories is La Gaviota (the -sea-gull), giving the career of a selfish, ill-disposed country girl, -gifted with some beauty and a fine voice. She obtains a gentle German -doctor for husband, is patronized by a duke, trained for the office of a -prima donna, becomes fascinated by a bull fighter, proves false to her -estimable husband, and ends badly of course. Devout and moral as the -authoress undoubtedly is, she does not avoid strong and exciting situations -no more than Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe or Mrs. Oliphant. Such is the scene -where the betrayed husband sees her seated beside the bullfighter among his -unedifying associates, and that other of the death of her paramour by a -furious animal in the arena before her eyes, and these are matched by -passages in the Alvareda Family.[Footnote 6] This story, which is entirely -occupied with country folk, and incidents of the war in Buonaparte's time, -and scenes of brigandage, is next to La Gaviota in power. The match-making -scene between the garrulous and saving Pedro and his relative that is to -be, the _Tia_ Maria, fully as provident as himself, might have -happened in a country farmhouse in Wexford or Carlow, and would have been -described by Banim or Griffin or Carleton, nearly in the same terms. - - [Footnote 6: A translation of this story was given in The Catholic - World of last year, as Perico the Sad; or, The Alvareda Family.] - -The Andalusians are as partial to bantering each other as the natives of -Kilcullen or Bantry, but all is taken in good humor. - -In reading the country business in this and others of our authoress's tales -we have been forcibly reminded of corresponding pictures so truthfully -painted in Adam Bede. We could scarcely fancy such a piece of extravagance -as the following to be uttered by a Spanish lady, till assured of the fact -by Fernan Caballero. _Casta_ wishes to induce her elderly lover, Don -Judas Taddeo Barbo, to cease his persecutions. He does not read, and -entertains feelings of repugnance to literary ladies in general; so she -takes him into her confidence. - - "'Yes, yes I am a poet, but do not mention it, I beg. Some of my works - are printed, but I have put the names of my friends to them. Martinez de - la Rosa's poems are mine, not his. I have also tried my hand on - theatrical pieces. The Consolations of a Prisoner, attributed to the Duke - de Rivas, is my composition.' - - "'Who would have suspected a lady, so young, so beautiful, so womanly, so - attractive? Why, a writing woman ought to be old, ugly, and slovenly--a - man-woman!' - - "'All prejudices, Don Judas. Have you read my Tell?' - - "'Miguel Tell, the Treasurer? No. I never read; it injures my sight.' - -{31} - - "'Well I must read an extract from my great historical work on William - Tell, not Miguel the Treasurer.' (Here poor Don Judas began to meditate - an escape, the very thing the lady wished.) - - "'William Tell, my hero, was a native of Scotland who refused to bow down - to the beaver hat of the English General, _Malbrun_, set up on a - high pole. Out of this circumstance arose the thirty years' war, at the - end of which Tell was proclaimed King of England under the title of - William the Conqueror. He brought disgrace on his royal name by causing - his wife, the beautiful Anne Boleyn, to be beheaded. Struck with remorse - he sent his son Richard Lion-heart on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. On - his return he was imprisoned for his great admiration of Luther, Calvin, - Voltaire, and Rousseau, members of the Revolutionary Directory which put - the pious King Louis XIV. to death. About that time Don Pedro the Cruel - established the inquisition in Spain to prevent such proceedings in his - kingdom, and thus he obtained his surname'" - -Poor Don Judas was terrified by the erudition of the cunning lady, who thus -got rid of him. - -The collected works of this lady have been printed at the expense of the -queen. It is only seventeen or eighteen years since she began to write, -and, if we can trust the accuracy of foreign biographers, she is now in her -seventieth year. Two volumes of selections from her works entitled The -Castle and Cottage in Spain, have appeared in an English dress. - - - Rustic Tales: Don Antonio De Trueba. - -The writer next to be noticed, by birth a Biscayan peasant, is now or was -lately a sub-editor of a newspaper. Don Antonio de Trueba y la Quintana was -born 24th December, 1821. In the preface to one of his works he presents -this picture of his birthplace and his early life. - - "On the slope of one of the mountains of Biscay stand four white houses - nearly hidden in a wood of walnut and chestnut trees, and which cannot be - seen at any distance till winter has deprived the trees of their foliage. - There I passed the first fifteen years of my life. - - "In the valley is a church whose spire pierces the surrounding canopy of - foliage, and is seen above the chestnut and ash trees. In this church - they celebrate two masses, one at the rising of the sun, the other two - hours afterward. - - "We, the young boys of the hamlet rose every Sunday with the song of the - birds, and went down to the early mass, singing and jumping over the - bushes. The elders of the families attended the later devotions. While - the fathers and grandfathers were so occupied, I took my seat under a - cherry tree opposite the door, and had a full view of the entire vale - till it approached the shore. I was soon joined by four or five young - girls with cheeks as blooming as the cherries which hung over our beads, - or the red ribbons which bound the long braids of their hair. They would - request me to make some verses for them to sing in the evening to the - accompaniment of the basque tambourine, when the young would be dancing, - and the aged looking on in sympathy with their enjoyment." - -Don Antonio was already a poet, though his material sources of information -and inspiration were very easily counted. His library consisted of the -Fueros (Customs) of Biscay, Samanego's Fables, Don Quixote, a book of -ballads, and two or three volumes of the Lives of the Saints. At fifteen -years of age (1836), the Carlist cause gathering the youth of Biscay to its -side, Antonio's parents not being enthusiastic partisans of that party, -sent their son to a distant relative in Madrid, who could do nothing better -for the future poet and novelist than employ him in his hardware shop to -take down door-hinges, pokers, and frying-pans for his customers. - -For ten tedious years did our poet in embryo do the duty of a shopman by -day, treat himself the to a book when be could, and spend in study great -part of the time that should be given to sleep. Bad business or failure -obliged him at the end of the time mentioned to look out for other -occupation, and since that time he has been connected with journalism, the -evenings still being devoted to poetry and romance. - -The ordinary vehicle in which the nameless poets of Spain utter their -thoughts to the people is the quatrain, in which the second and fourth -lines rhyme after a fashion, the accented vowels corresponding without -exception, the consonants when it pleases Apollo. This is what they call -the _Romance_, and in which Trueba has endeavored to improve the taste -of the people by a genuine poetic feeling, and perfection in the structure -of the verse. - -{32} - -But our Biscayan thought a poet's life incomplete without the sympathy -which only a loving and intelligent wife can afford. So he incurred the -expense of a household, as well as gave support to his aged parents. Along -with laboring at the public press and writing and publishing Los Cantares, -he found time to compose his Rose-colored Tales, all concerned with the -ordinary life of the country in which his boyhood was passed, and all seen -through that softly colored magic medium through which mature age loves to -look back to the period of careless hopeful youth. These stories are called -The Resurrection of the Soul, The Stepmother, From our Country to Heaven. -The Judas of the House, and Juan Palamo. All end happily, all are imbued -with the purest morality, and breathe an atmosphere in which live the best -feelings of our nature. - -While writing the dedication of them to his wife, he was enlivened by the -anticipation of a visit they would shortly make to his natal village. - - "While I write this, the most cherished wish of my life is about to be - gratified. Before the July sun withers up the flowers, the breezes and - the flowers of my native hills shall cool our foreheads, and perfume our - hair. The venerable man who honors himself and thee in calling thee his - daughter, is now going from house to house in the village, and telling - the companions of my boyhood, while tears of joy find their way down his - check, 'My children are coming; my son is about revisiting his native - valleys as lovingly as he bade them adieu twenty years ago.' - - "And our father and our brothers are thinking on us every moment, and - doing all in their humble means to beautify and cheer the apartments - destined for us. Every time they come to the windows, they expect to see - my form on the hillock where they caught the last site of me seventeen - years ago." - -Alas! what disappointments wait on such pleasant anticipations! Paying a -tardy visit to the scenes so lovingly and pleasurably remembered, the -careworn elderly man finds dear old houses levelled; new, raw ones reared -on their site; old paths and ways deserted, and new roads laid down; new -and uninteresting topics filling up conversation, the once fresh and fair -romantic boys and girls now common-place husbands and wives, except such as -have been removed by death or change of residence. His former comrades, -youths and maids once buoyant with bright hopes, are now gray-haired and -wrinkled, or distressed, or departed, and of the revered and loved old -people of long ago not one has been left to bid him welcome. There are now -no ties to detain him in his long regretted native place; he hastens back -to his ordinary colorless occupation and cares, rendered agreeable or -tolerable by habit, and wishes he had not gone on that sorrowful journey. - -In the greater part of these tales figures the Indian, that is, one who has -spent some time in Mexico or the West Indies, and returns to cheer or -disturb the former companions of his early life. The narratives are made up -of simple village annals, loves and jealousies, injustices and their -punishments, generous deeds and their recompenses, constancy sharply tried -and victorious, unions at the threshing floors, Sunday morning devotions, -Sunday evening recreations, troubles of good housewives with their -play-loving little boys, and all the worries and comforts and joys and -griefs that attend on the lives of those whose lot is to cultivate the -earth, the curé always filling the office of the good fairy in household -tales. - - - Satire: Don Jose Gonzalez De Tejada. - -Don José Gonzalez de Tejada may be taken as the representative man of the -living Spanish satirists. Few looking on the steady, easy-going, fat, and -florid young man with good-nature playing about the corners of his mouth, -would suspect the keen spirit of satire which inspires his verses. -{33} -Making use of the romance form before explained, he celebrated in the -public papers the late triumphs of his country over the Moors, and these -verses were in every one's mouth. In his satires he never condescends to -personalities. He lashes selfishness, rage for wealth, worldliness, lack of -patriotism, etc. He calls his collection "Anacreontic Poems of the latest -Fashion," but they have nothing of the genuine Anacreontics but the form. -The classic student, or even the reader of Moore's translation, recollects -the bibulous old poet's direction to the painter about his mistress's -portrait. Here is the Spanish equivalent: - - "Figure to me, O photographer of my soul! - the beauty who holds me in thrall. - - "As to countenance, let her be dark or fair, - to me it's all the same. - - "But let sparkling diamonds give lustre to her tresses, - and two golden lamps hang from her ears. - - "Let her neck be dark, or possess the whiteness of alabaster, - but for decency's sake cover it with pearls or sapphires. - - "Let her graceful form be shrouded with rich valuable stuffs. - A rich binding always enhances the value of books. - - "While she rolls along in her _calèche_ my - attention is occupied with her rich liveries - and the cost of the equipage. - - "Happy he who, prancing along by the carriage, - or seated by her side, cigar in mouth, - can exclaim, 'All that surrounds me is mine!' - - "Paint her for me in ball costume, at the mass, - or the _retiro_, ever richly dressed, - ever surrounded by opulent charms. - - "But alas! her greatest charms you cannot - see to portray--her father's crowns! - On these is my heart fixed." - -Don José is somewhat old fashioned in his notions. He does not attribute -all the qualities of and overruling Providence to the mere progress of -science and the additions to our corporal conveniences. Here is his vision -of the origin of printing: - - "Turning the earth into a sponge with his tears, - man presented himself all dreeping at the throne of Jupiter. - - "And cried, 'Good evening, O powerful god, - maker of stars, of worlds, and of domestic fowl! - - "Thou createdst us one day from nothing - mixed with a little mud; thou hast bestowed - on us genius enveloped in a soft covering of flesh. - - "'The world is a cage, and each of us a - parrot climbing and balancing himself over - his neighbor's head. - -. . . . . - - "'Thou hast bestowed us ears which to - the deaf are a mere ornament, and a tongue, - best gift of all. - - "'Placed between the teeth she gives - them to understand that unless she lies, they - can have nothing to chew. - - "'But alas! in our time she is incapable to - express all that the fruitful brain conceives - and brings forth. - - "'Lengthen it then the third of a perch, or - give it for aid an additional organ. - - "'Juppy made a grimace, and the affrighted - hills sunk, and the poles trembled. - - "'Well,' said the deity, always prodigal of gifts, - 'I shall convert into tongues sundry vile things of this lower world. - - "'Of old shirts, of disgusting rags, I shall - make gay clothes for the press, - flesh and blood for the daily paper. - - "'In the feathered garb of the goose are - cannons sufficient to win treasures. - - "'Let your arms cease to brandish the war-like steel, - and turn inert and fat bodies of men into sieves. - - "'Iron fashioned into slender tongues - which sing along the paper, shall there engrave - the conceptions of genius. - - "'And in order that you may attain the steepest summits, - I shall furnish your heads with pride and envy in abundance. - - "'Advance, throw shame behind, flatter the proud, - copy, deride, calumniate, and be - sure to burn incense in your own honor. - - "'I have spoken.' And he added, rubbing his chin, - 'Henceforth you are a man; hitherto you were but an ape.'" - - - History: Don Antonio Cavanilles. - -Don Antonio Cavanilles, an advocate and member or the Academy, has -distinguished himself by his yet unfinished history of Spain, an -interesting narrative, evincing the most patient research, and attractive -from the adjuncts of customs and phases of the different eras, and personal -traits of the historical personages. Don Modesto Lafuente is engaged on -another history of the same country. Don Antonio belongs to the school of -Livy and Herodotus, Don Modesto writes in the spirit and with the pen of a -Manchester radical. - -{34} - - The Drama: Don Adelardo Lopez De Ayala. - -Zealous as the first historian for the preservation of the heroic and -unselfish character of the genuine Hidalgo, Don Adelardo Lopez de Ayala -writes his drama of "So Much per Cent," in which he excites unmeasured -contempt for the greed of gold, and the rage of speculation, whose visit to -the old soil of chivalry the author deprecates with all his might. - -Don Gaspar Bono Serrano, a brave and devout military chaplain, once -attending the wounded in Don Carlos's camp, and an Arragonese by birth, has -given the lie to the public impression that no poet is born outside of -Castile and Andalulçia. - -While it must be owned with regret that pestilent French novels have found -their way in abundance across the Pyrenees, the native literature of Spain, -with scarce an exception, maintains its ancient _prestige_ for -Christian morality. Long may the word continue to be said! - -Want of space prevents any notice of the _feuilleton_ and the drama of -Spain at the present day, and other literary topics interesting the Spanish -capital. An instance of the interest taken in sound fictional literature in -high quarters is furnished by the publication of the complete collected -novels of Fernan Caballero, and of Antonio Trueba at the expense of the -Queen. Meanwhile Fernan, or rather Doña Caecilia, (_née_) de Faber, -dwells in the Royal Alcazar of Seville in apartments granted by her queen, -employs herself writing an educational work for the junior portion of the -royal family, and enjoys an extensive view from her windows over the old -Moorish buildings, the Guadalquiver, and the charming Andaluçian landscape -through which it winds. - ------- - - Original. - - The Godfrey Family; or, Questions Of The Day - - Chapter XXVIII. - -With a woman's tact, Adelaide set to work to provide some powerful -attraction for her father; and luckily the proposed formation of a -scientific society brought many men of his own way of thinking to town just -then: and among them Mr. Spence, and a lord or two of "promotion of -knowledge" celebrity. Having managed thoroughly to interest her father in -this society, Adelaide told him that sea-air would benefit Hester's health, -that she intended to go with her for a few weeks to try it, that meantime -Mr. Spence would keep him company in the house, which Lucy Fairfield would -take charge of. To this Mr. Godfrey, though somewhat taken by surprise, -assented: he had already, at Adelaide's request, invited Mr. Spence to -spend a few weeks with him; but that gentleman was not exactly well pleased -to find on his arrival that the ladies were already preparing for -departure. He had intended to win a bride during his visit, thinking that -even if Hester proved obdurate, he might have a chance with the fair young -widow. But the carriage was already at the door. "I shall send the carriage -back, father, in a day or two;" said Adelaide. "I do not care to have my -horses at a livery stable; Hester and I are going to rusticate, ride -donkeys, climb hills, and throw pebbles into the sea: we take only Norah -with us, and you will have to see that the carriage horses are duly -exercised every day." She waved her hand in adieu, giving no time for -reply. The gentlemen could only bow their assent. Mr. Godfrey was too well -acquainted with Adelaide's imperious temperament to think of disputing her -commands; he had long learned to respect even her eccentricities. Was she -not a duchess? - -{35} - -The journey went on well enough the first day, but on the second, Adelaide -surprised her retinue by sending them back with the carriage, telling them -she would proceed onward with a hired vehicle. The coachman and footman -looked as if they would like to remonstrate, but it had been proved to be -somewhat dangerous to argue with this very positive lady, accustomed to -obey no will except her own. They submitted in silence, therefore, though -much against their inclination. "Now," said Adelaide, when they had -departed, "we can enjoy the luxury of being ourselves, unencumbered by -state and trappings. Hester, do you think you can teach Norah to call me -plain 'ma'am,' for a little while, till we return home? I am again Adelaide -Godfrey, that name will tell nothing and will enable us to act as we like, -observed by any." - -It was not found difficult to initiate Norah into the idea that the great -duchess wanted to lay aside her dignity for a while, for the truth was -Norah's difficulty had ever been to get herself to say "your grace," on -requisite occasions. These preliminaries settled, the ladies proceeded on -their journey, took ready furnished lodgings in H----, and prepared to lead -the quiet life of the middle classes of society when out on a "bathing for -health" excursion. - -The location of the Catholic chapel was soon examined, the priest's house -communicating with it. In neat straw bonnets trimmed with white, and plain -muslin dresses, Adelaide and Hester assisted at the daily mass. In the -priest they recognized at once the Abbé Martigni, and in the noble-featured -youth who knelt by his side Adelaide traced the likeness, now first -becoming dear to her, of her late husband. A day or two elapsed ere she -could summon courage to call at the house. At length the moment arrived for -the looked-for visit; the sisters had, however, scarcely gained entrance to -the outer court, when their attention was attracted by loud sobs from a -little boy and girl, who stood weeping as if their hearts would break. The -abbé was speaking to the woman with whom they came; he then turned to the -children, and patting them on the heads, said tenderly: "I will come -directly, my poor children." He turned hastily away without receiving his -visitors. Adelaide took the boy's hand kindly. "What is the matter?" she -asked. The boy could not speak for weeping, but the woman answered: "His -mother, my lady, poor Biddy, shure, she has fallen from her seat, on to the -stone pavement, while she was cleaning the windows of a large house in -Queen street, and they say she must die." - -Adelaide whispered, "take me to your mother;" the boy looked at the woman; -"aye," said she, "do you and Sissy go home with the ladies, I will wait to -show his reverence the way." Led by Adelaide and Hester, the girl and boy -threaded back the way to their wretched home, and entered it some time -before the priest arrived. In one of those dreary places of large cities -called a "blind alley"--where the houses nearly meet in the upper stories, -and where the sunshine of heaven is excluded; surrounded by bad smells, and -the very atmosphere of which makes us shrink and shudder as we enter the -damp and dirty houses, the inhabitants of which are for the most part very -dirty also--here in a cellar, darker even than its neighbors, lay a poor -widow with four children weeping around her. The woman was barely sensible; -her brain and spine were injured; the doctor had said she could not live -till night; two women, neighbors, were with her trying "to get sense out of -her," as they said. It was the first time the sisters had ever witnessed -such a scene. The very walls were covered with dirt; the floor was partly -brick, and where these were broken away, the foot slipped into holes of the -bare earth; the windows were so covered with dust and cobwebs it was -difficult to find out what they were made of. -{36} -On a low pallet, on a dirty straw-bed, with no blankets, no sheets, naught -save one dirty coverlet, lay a figure with long, dark, lank hair, almost -covering her face and person. Adelaide approached, but the woman heeded her -not; her large dark eyes were set: she moaned from time to time, but spoke -not. "Where do you feel pain?" kindly inquired the lady. "Oh I bless you, -my lady, she cannot spake," said one of the women. "The Lord be praised, -here comes his reverence," said the other. "May the sweet Jesus lend her -her senses a few minutes, to let her spake to the priest!" The abbé -entered; he looked very grave; he sat down on the bed (there was no other -seat in the room) to examine the pulse and breathing of the patient. He -spoke to her. She answered not. "Try to rouse her," he said to the women. -They called to her: "Biddy, dear, shure here's his reverence. Biddy, won't -you spake to the priest?" She continued unconscious. "Have you a -smelling-bottle?" he said to Adelaide. "We must bring her to consciousness, -I wish I had some _eau-de Cologne_." "I will fetch you some," laid -Adelaide. - -The sisters went out and purchased the _eau-de-Cologne_, also bread -and refreshments for the children; and then in that damp, unwholesome den, -the duchess watched long hours by the side of the unfortunate woman. She -was unattended too, for Hester had grown faint, and Adelaide had insisted -on her going home, and the abbé had left for a while. At length -consciousness returned, and the poor mother opened her eyes again. The -priest was immediately sent for, as he had desired to be, and the first -words she whispered betrayed a consciousness of his presence, for they -were: "Bring me my God! O my sweet Jesus, come!" The room was cleared for a -few moments. Biddy had been a faithful member of the church--she was a -monthly communicant, and the last sacraments brought unspeakable -consolation to her. She had remained silent and in prayer for some time. A -change came over her, and she motioned the father to come near to her. "I -am dying, father, and but for one thought it were sweet to die. My -children--oh! my children! I have struggled--father, you know I have -struggled to keep them in the true faith, to make them love Jesus and Mary; -and _now_, must they go to the scoffers? must they hear their faith -laughed at? O my God! O my Jesus! have pity on my children! Mary, my -mother, send a mother to my children. Let me come to thee in love and not -in fear. O mother of God, pity my children!" Agony caused the drops to -stand on the poor woman's brow; tears streamed down her cheeks; her hands -were clasped convulsively together; it was as though the soul were anxious -to depart, but delayed in order to plead with heaven in favor of the dear -little ones it left behind. There was a solemn pause within that dreary -chamber. The dim candle seemed to take a bright unearthly light. The -spirits of all were hushed in awe. Surely angels were hovering near, -whispering to the mother that her prayer was heard, for a smile broke over -the features, the hands unclenched themselves, peace overshadowed the room; -and then, as if moved by a power she could not withstand, Adelaide came -forward and knelt down in solemnity by the dying woman's side. Taking -within her own that now almost lifeless hand, she said: "I promise you, my -sister, before God and this holy priest, that I will take care of your -children while I live, and that they shall be carefully brought up in the -holy Catholic Faith." The woman's eyes were no longer sensible to sight, -but her spirit beard the promise. "I thank thee, O my God!" she uttered. -Shortly after a ray of indescribable rapture lighted up her features, -"Jesus, Mary, I come!" she said; and the soul had flown to its home in the -bright, bright realms of everlasting bliss. - -· · · · · - -{37} - -"This must be a pauper's funeral," said Adelaide, as she rose from her -knees. "Father, I am a stranger here; will you appoint some one to see to -it?" She placed her purse in his hand as she spoke. The father looked at -her. "Surely I have seen you before," he said; "your face is familiar to -me, but I cannot remember where we met." Adelaide blushed. "I will see you -after the funeral," she said; "meanwhile, may I ask you to point out some -woman to go home with me, and take charge of these children? I will pay her -well for her trouble." The abbé sent for a woman; a coach was called, and -Adelaide took the poor children to her lodgings. Here they were fed, -washed, clothed in neat mourning, and made ready to do the last sad honors -to their mother's remains. - -A large concourse of Irish neighbors attended the funeral, though of course -all eyes were attracted to the stranger ladies, who walked up the aisle -with a child at each side of them. The priest was evidently moved as he -turned to address the assembly; and ever and anon his eye would glance to -Adelaide, as if trying in vain to make out who she was. His discourse was -on the history of poor Bridget, who lay before them. It ran something after -this fashion: "My friends, as we pass through life, and the actions and -thoughts of _real_ human beings come under our notice, one reflection -seems to strike us more forcibly than all the rest; it is this: that the -_real_ heroism of the earth is often overlooked, not only by the world -at large, but also by the actors themselves. The greatest acts of virtue -are performed by those who are unconscious of their greatness--the -greatest works done in this miserable world are done by those who never -dream that they are heroines at all. A lady is thought wondrously -condescending if, from charity, she sit for a few hours in an atmosphere -which the poor one she is tending endures always. She is deemed charitable -if, from her abundance, she bestows alms on the naked and starting. Now, -all this is _well_, very well; I would encourage such efforts to the -utmost; they bring a blessing both to the giver and receiver: but for -heroism, it is oftenest with the sufferer. I will relate to you a history -with which I have only been made acquainted within these few hours. I had -it from the lips of a friend who arrived from Ireland two days ago, in -search of her who now lies before us. Bridget Norton was the daughter of an -Irish farmer, who was somewhat better off than the majority; the farm-house -was well kept; the dairy was a picture of neatness. Everything around the -place was so fixed that they added to the completeness of the landscape. -Bridget was a fine handsome girl, sought after by many, and unfortunately -among her suitors was one base enough to vow revenge for the preference she -gave to the man she married. Bad times came; the rejected suitor became -agent for the landlord, and he perpetually harassed Norton for cash on -every possible pretense; while he made base proposals to the wife, which -were rejected with the scorn they deserved, and the rage of the deceiver -increased. The landlord was unluckily a proselytizer. He conferred great -gifts to all who would go to the English church, but was relentless against -all who held out. Young Norton took sick; when he was at the worst, the -agent found a flaw in his lease, and served an ejectment on the family at -the very time that the husband was unable to leave his bed. Then his cattle -died, some said by poison, and his crops failed. The man sank under these -reverses, and died. The landlord made many offers to Bridget of assistance -if she would send her children to his school and to church, and the agent -contrived many species of persecution to get her into his power. Bridget -fled to Liverpool, and by sheer hard work contrived to maintain her family -decently for some time; but her persecutor traced her, followed her, -blackened her character, so that she lost her employment. -{38} -Again she fled, but sickness overtook her ere she had made herself known; -she lost one of her children by sickness also, and, lastly, was compelled -to sell her little furniture to buy bread; last week she moved to the -cellar where she died. You know in what state she was found there. Yet -throughout these trials her confidence in God never has faltered; she has -for the last five years suffered hardship, penury, want, and persecution. -Amid all she has kept faithful to God, forgiven her enemy, and taught her -children the catechism. They have often wanted food, but never missed their -prayers; they have often been clothed in rags, but never neglected a mass -of obligation. This, for one brought up as Bridget had been to love -neatness and take pride in appearing respectable, argues no small victory -over human respect. But the love of God was deeply rooted in her heart; she -knew that exercise elicits virtue; she felt herself at school to an -all-wise Father, who appointed for her the lessons best suited to bring out -that unfailing trust which was conspicuous in her character, and which, in -spite of her many trials, bore her cheerily throughout them all. Yes, -cheerfulness was (as is attested by all who knew her) Bridget's most -amiable characteristic, and it proceeded from her implicit trust in God. -She had a martyr's courage and a martyr's love, and I think it would be -risking little to suppose that even now she may be wearing in heaven the -martyr's crown. Yet she passed through the world unnoticed, and certainly -was not counted among its heroines." - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - -Immediately after the funeral Adelaide called on the abbé, according to her -promise. She was accompanied by Hester. - -"Well," said the good father as soon as the preliminary compliments had -passed, "as you have taken possession of four of my spiritual children, to -whom I am in some sort a guardian, you must allow me to ask your name and -state. You are a stranger in this city, it appears.' - -"I am. My name is Adelaide: I am a widow." - -"And the name of your husband?" - -"My husband was the late Duke of Durimond." - -The father started: he looked again. "That accounts for my fancy," he said. -"I was sure I had seen you before. I recognize you perfectly now:' but what -can bring your grace hither, and in this guise?" - -"Father," said Adelaide, "I came to apologize to you for my conduct on that -dreary occasion that you know of; to beg your pardon and your prayers." - -The good priest raised the lady, for Adelaide had knelt to him as she -uttered the last words. "You have my prayers, my child," he said; "you have -long had them: it was his last request that I should daily pray for you. -And as for pardon, such an act of humility would redeem a worse offence. Be -at peace, I beg of you." - -"And did the duke really interest himself on my account?" - -"He did, and most sincerely; it was a constant topic with him. He ever -maintained that, with your nobility of character, you must eventually -follow in your brother's footsteps. I presume I may conclude you have now -done so." - -"Not so, father. Hester (whom you probably also recognize) and myself are -but inquirers as yet, and the difficulty is that our inquiry must not be -suspected just now. We came to request assistance from your charity; but we -beg you not to name us otherwise than as ladies of your acquaintance. The -Misses Godfrey will pass unheeded by, but if you address me as your grace -again, you will bring upon us the attention we are trying to avoid." - -"I will try to remember Miss Godfrey; it will be a little difficult, I -fear, but I need not tell you my services are at your disposal." - -{39} - -"This is indeed returning good for evil," said Adelaide. - -"Do not speak of it; good has already come of that to which you allude, as -is usually the case if we wait long enough. Let the past be past. But -surely I have seen you both at mass; you have, then, lost your prejudice -against the church." - -"Indeed, yes," said Adelaide. "Our great regret is that we have not faith. -The system which you propose is beautiful in all its bearings. It is our -torment to feel that all that is beautiful in poetry or in art, nay, even -in ethics, belongs to Catholicity, yet we do not belong to it. A hall of -sculpture representing the Catholic ideal, as the figures of the duke's -pantheon represent the pagan myth, would form the most sublime elucidation -of the high triumphs of soul over self that could be imagined. There is no -act of heroism, mental, moral, or physical, that would not find a -representative in some authenticated historic personage. From martyrdom -endured to maintain the truth of alleged facts, to voluntary poverty chosen -as the best preservative of the disposition to receive and maintain truth, -there is a regular chain of virtue personified. There is a reality about -Catholicity (in books at least) which we find nowhere else." - -"Where is your difficulty, seeing that you admit all this?" - -"I can hardly explain it, yet it seems to shape itself thus: Why, if men -are so blessed with a divine religion, is the world so bad? History gives -us saints, sublime ones, who make our very souls thrill with the recital of -their unselfish spirt, exemplified in act; but, on the other hand, the same -history tells us of multitudes of bad men for one good one. The men who -attempted to poison St. Benedict, were monks, men who had renounced all for -Christ; and the multitudes were Catholic up to the fifteenth century, yet -what fearful struggles for power, and indulgence of luxury in high places, -and of crime among all, high and low! Most of the saints were reformers, -combating with their fellow-Catholics for virtue; and now, are all -Catholics unselfish, unworldly?" - -"It seems," said Hester, "that a very definite amount of good has been -achieved by Christianity, in giving an impetus to the spirit of the masses -to claim intellectual rights by the recognition of man's spiritual equality -before God; and to strip off illegitimate uses of power from the sense of -justice thus evolved. It has also placed our sex on a footing permitted by -no other religion--this is much, very much; but here it seems to stop, and -these are but indirect results. Religion professes to inculcate higher -motives than the improvement of earthly position, desirable as this may be. -Men are now selfish in their avowed principle, and this, I think, must -ultimately destroy all that has been achieved. Self-gratification as a -motive, and the only motive recognized, must lead back to want of -discipline, and from that the step to barbarism is easy. Only under the -Christian dispensation has labor been honored; in all other civilizations, -slaves, captives of the sword and spear, have performed by compulsion the -work of tilling the soil and so forth; and yet men now seek to avoid labor, -the real labor of producing, as if they still thought it fit for slaves -only; any other kind of occupation is preferred, as more noble. If this is -the result of eighteen hundred years of Christian teaching, I own it -puzzles me. Where are the direct results of unselfishness and of corporal -sacrifice for the attainment of spiritual good, that books teach us to -expect?" - -"These are very painful facts," said the abbé, "which distress the heart of -many a Catholic priest; but with reference to their influence on faith, I -think a little reflection will explain most of the phenomena without -prejudice to such souls as are earnestly seeking truth. We must remember -that there was a time when whole nations suddenly assumed the name of -Christians under the influence of the ruling powers. -{40} -The majority of these people were not only ignorant, but many did not care -to learn high spiritual truths; the conversion was necessarily partial, -even that which was genuine. But because all divine truth is positive and -co-relative to natural truth, some degree of enlightenment followed even in -the natural order; and worldly minds, who had no affinity for spiritual -revelations laid hold, notwithstanding this, of the types that presented -spiritual truths, and, finding they bore an earthly signification also (as -all real enlightenment does, the body being the mate for the soul), they -seized on the lower meaning, and hence the civilization of that ilk. This -is not wrong, but it is defective; as far as it is moral, it is the -material expression of a spiritual idea; but it does not touch the first -step of the ladder by which we rise to God--it is the lesser influence of a -principle comprehending affinities of an infinitely higher character." - -"But this does not explain the corruption in high places." - -"Power and greatness and wealth do not confer spirituality; no, nor does -intellect. When the church grew wealthy and powerful, many a wolf entered -in sheep's clothing for the sake of the perquisites. The miracle is that -the church survived such destructive influences, not that she suffered by -them." - -"And the more immediate trouble with the present conduct of Catholics?" - -"May be referred to similar causes. They inherit their religion without -giving its real conditions a thought; to this may be added the fact that, -for the last three hundred years, the attention of immense numbers has been -directed to polemics instead of to the requirements of religion. There have -been so many disputes about which is the true faith, that practically faith -has been assumed to mean 'holding a correct intellectual creed.' Now, -without derogating, in the least degree, from the importance of holding the -right faith, even in this light, it is certain that these controversies -have drawn the soul from that more serious business to which a right -intellectual creed is but the first step, though an important, a very -important one. The object of religion is, the union of the soul to the will -of God. This is an individual matter, one which cannot be laid hold of -_en masse_, but must be personally brought home to every individual. -To effect this, there must be; - 1. Desire of good--real, earnest, sincere. - 2. Prayer for good, arising from the firm conviction that in God - only resides all good--from him only all good can come. - 3. Co-operation in act, including not only correct moral action, - but a constant endeavor to instruct ourselves, more and more, in - divine lore, with an earnest zeal of rising continually in spiritual - life. -Now, if you examine these conditions, you will find that few observe them, -compared with the numbers who bear the name of Catholics--and the power of -Catholicity must he judged of by its effect on those who observe its -precepts, not by the multitudes who conform by halves, or by less than that -proportion, to its teachings. You would not judge of the effect of a -medicine by those who keep it in their houses, but by those who take it." - -"Are not those Catholics, then, who do not act up to their religion?" - -"In as far as they neglect their religion they are imperfect Catholics. It -would, however, be very dangerous for us to judge how far their -imperfections arise from culpability on their part. All men are wounded by -the fall in some shape or other; some have this faculty impaired, some -that; consequently there will be gradations of virtue apparent everywhere, -the cause of which we cannot fathom, and the delinquencies of which we -cannot judge. As regards judgment, all we have to do with is with -ourselves; our faculties, great or little, with imperfections greater or -less, must, as far as in us lies be devoted to God--be improved for him--be -exercised in accordance with his will as manifested to us. 'This do and ye -shall live.'" - -{41} - - Chapter XXX. - - An Interview And A Letter. - -It were superfluous to reiterate the instructions given by the good abbé to -the neophytes under his guidance; where the instructor is learned, patient, -and gentle, and the learner docile and humble, the result may be easily -predicted. One day, in the course of conversation, the abbé said to -Adelaide: "If you are looking for examples in Christian life, I could name -one living in this neighborhood, living so simple and beautiful a life, -that those who have the happiness of knowing her, half believe her to be an -angel in disguise." - -"I think I know whom you mean," said Adelaide; "already have I paused at -the threshold of her dwelling, wishing to enter, but hardly knowing whether -I dared." - -"She will be glad to see you. She has a better memory than I; she -recognized you at church, and has interested herself warmly in your -conversion." - -Thus encouraged Adelaide ventured on the visit. The greeting between the -two ladies was that of _sisters_; they wept together, clasping each -other's hand in silence. We pass over the exciting scene. Adelaide was -completely fascinated by all she saw. For the first time in her life she -felt that glow of thrilling interest that binds heart to heart, and makes -us know what real love is, when that love is founded in God. Ellen was one -of those happy temperaments, so rare on earth, that seem formed to dispense -the sunshine of happiness on all who came under their influence. Heaven -seemed to have descended to earth to dwell with her, and in that heaven she -had learned to live--out of herself altogether. Her life was passed in -doing good, but, so unconsciously to herself was that good done, that she -seemed but to be following her own pleasure all the time. The one great -sorrow of her life surmounted, she had resigned herself (no! resignation -would not express the depth of her devotedness); rather had she thrown her -whole being into the profound abyss of the mystery of God, seeking only his -will, mysterious as it was to her. She came at last to live as a child on -the daily promise, forming no plans, asking nothing of the morrow, but ever -seeking to pour out her great love in making others happy. The poor, the -sick, the wretched, were her friends, her children, the objects of her -tenderness, and her presence was to them as a ray of sunshine to lighten -every woe. There are few Ellens on this weary earth, for nature and grace -seemed to combine in her to diffuse their charms. Those who knew her asked -themselves, where was her share of the original taint, "of that trail of -the serpent which is over us all"? Though Adelaide's senior by many years, -she had so youthful, so buoyant an expression, albeit chastened by the -atmosphere of purity and sanctity in which she moved, that you could not -connect the idea of _age_ with her frame at all. Adelaide felt that -she had obtained a friend, a sister, a guide for the future, and a -friendship was quickly cemented between the two that ended but with life. - -Meantime the hour approached when the sisters were to be received into the -church. Hester was not a little agitated as she thought of the effect that -would be produced upon her father: it was as much as Adelaide and Ellen -could do with their united efforts to calm her fears. Adelaide's firm mind -bade her take her resolution according to her conviction, and face the -consequences like a soldier. - -"Yes, if they were consequences to myself," sighed Hester; "but my future, -will it not suffer from it? Suppose he should sicken as my mother did!" - -"Dear Hester," said Ellen, "you must leave off trusting yourself, in this -manner, and apprehending consequences, as if you had the control of events. -Do you not believe God reigns omnipotent?" - -"Why, yes, certainly I do." - -"Then let your first offering to him be a practical recognition of that -belief; trust him for your father as well as for yourself." - -{42} - -Hester had had deeds prepared, restoring, as best she might, the property -which had been appropriated to her experiments, to its former destination. -To her father during life was the income of the estate assigned; to her -brother the reversion. For herself she reserved only that portion which she -had a right to consider as her share. - -The deeds were handed to Eugene for his inspection the night on which he -arrived at the abbé's abode, on the day previous to that on which the -ceremony was to take place. - -"This was not necessary," he said to the abbé, "I had already given up my -right, and was reconciled to the result." - -"That is a question for you to settle with your sister, my young friend," -said the abbé. "The young lady has acted on her own sense of what was -fitting in the matter. She did not consult me, and if she had I should have -declined interference in family matters; but I think you will hurt her -feelings if you make objections. Wait at least till her mind is more -composed; she is just now agitated on her father's account: best let the -first excitement pass away, ere you disturb her mind again." - -The ceremony was a private one, for it was a matter yet to be considered -how to break the matter to Mr. Godfrey. After its performance, the brother -and sisters were yet in consultation about the advisability of setting out -at once for London, when a courier was announced from the Marquis de -Villeneuve, with a letter to Hester. The young lady glanced over the -contents, then suddenly rose, and locked herself in her own room. Eugene -invited the man to wait. But it was some hours ere Hester admitted even her -sister to her apartment. Thus ran the letter: - - To Miss Hester Godfrey. - "Most Honored Lady: - - I have been many times at H*** lately, but dared not ventured to see you, - although from some words which my friend the abbé let fall, I rejoiced to - learn that the object of your visit was the realization of anticipations - I had long indulged in. I have long felt convinced that a mind so earnest - as yours must finally seek refuge in the ark of the true church. I dared - not disturb your retreat; I dared not intrude on the visible work of God. - But let me be the first to offer my congratulations; let me now express - the high regard, esteem, nay, may I use a softer word, and say love, with - which I have long regarded you. - - "Lady, I will not speak to you in the language of passion; for a long - time past I have had to keep my feelings under control, for deep as has - been my admiration of yourself I dared not make you aware of it while the - obstacle of faith stood between us. A Catholic man seeks in marriage a - HELP-MEET for him, a partner in joy, a soother in sorrow, a confidant and - co-operator in his views, a companion and a friend under every reverse. - To set out with diverse sustaining powers would mar this idea in the - outset, to say nothing of the want of that special blessing which God - confers on those he himself joins together. - - "Dear lady, when I came to Europe some few years ago, it was with the - special intention of taking back a wife. When my friend De Meglior in - that most solemn hour before his death confided to me the care of his - daughter, I thought the companion I sought for was found; but Euphrasie - soon showed herself so visibly the elected bride of heaven that all my - anxiety was quickly directed to preserving her from sacrilege. You then - came before me, with your earnest mind, your indomitable courage, your - high intellect and intensity of zeal. From that time my heart was no - longer my own, though I dared not give utterance to its desires. The - obstacle which stood between us is removed, yet I dare not venture into - your presence without your sanction; I should feel a repulse too keenly. - - "Lady, my father was an enthusiast like yourself. He went to America in - the hope of doing his part to sanctify the career of intelligence and of - liberty opened for the first time in the world's history for the laboring - classes as a body. He helped to build churches, to found schools in - conjunction with ecclesiastical authority, and did whatever a secular - could do to guide a movement which he respected and sympathized with, but - one which he felt would be exposed to great peril, unless that divine - principle which is the true source of government both in the family and - in the state, could be brought to bear upon it. -{43} - He feared that 'liberty' on a mere rationalistic principle, that is, - standing on purely human strength, severed from the divine idea which - gave it being, would, however beautiful in its poetry, soon degenerate - into license; soon succumb beneath the empire of passion, and be led to - tolerate laws subversive of true progress. It was the aim of his life to - inculcate that 'Truth is one;' that the human idea cannot be disjoined - from the divine idea without fatal results; that real earthly happiness, - through differing in intensity, is the same in essence as that we look to - enjoy hereafter in heaven. That all earthly intelligence, an earthly - beneficence which seeks permanence, must be founded on the repression of - such inordinate desire as impede and frustrate the development and - employment of our higher faculties. For all beauty, harmony, and love - must be brought out in accordance with that law of the spirit, which he - has given us, as our rule of action, we being children of the spirit. - - "The working out of this purpose is the legacy which my dear father, - lately deceased, has bequeathed unto his children. To this purpose I have - consecrated myself; and because I know your high power of intellect, - because I have witnessed your zeal, your energy, your devotedness to - good, I ask you to become the help-meet to carry out this purpose. - - "In all ages of the church, since the first miracle was performed at the - request of Mary, woman's aid has been in requisition for high purposes. - The conversion of every nation of Europe is associated with the name of a - woman, and woman gives the tone to society in every Christian land. I - feel then that without the aid thus specially appointed for man, my - father's purposes would lose more than half the influence necessary to - carry them out. But working together, under the sanction of the church, - surely two earnest minds might hope to effect something. If we cannot - make an impression on a world of infidelity, it will yet be something if - we are allowed to instill into the minds of Catholic children, that - 'Credo' means something more than an intellectual assent to a series of - metaphysical dogmas. If we can assist the self-sacrificing pastors of the - church in rehabilitating the idea of the divine institution of the family - and of the state which is fast vanishing beneath the crude notions of - human progress which sanction so easily the dissolution of sacred - ties--if we can throw whatever influence we do possess into the right - scale, we shall then have ample reason to begin a rejoicing which shall - last for ever. For there is the promise that however gloomy the - appearance, error shall not ultimately prevail, and happy are they who - here on earth shall have formed the royal guard of honor around the - citadel of Truth, who shall have stood as sentinels appointed to watch - beneath its glorious standard, when the combat is at highest. - - "Dear lady, may I hope you will think this an object worthy of your - ambition? may I hope you will regard with favor one who has loved you so - long, though he dared not confess it until to-day? - - "One word from you will bring me to your feet. May I hope that word will - be spoken? - - Edward De Villeneuve." - -"Well," said Adelaide, when at length she gained admission, and had taken -the letter from her sister's unresisting hand, "I think you have kept the -courier waiting long enough, and 'tis not a long answer the poor man wants, -since one word is all he asks." - -"What will my father say, Adelaide?" - -"The old marquis was my father's most dearly loved friend. He will accept -the son for the father's sake; the question is, will you accept him?" - -"I have never thought of marrying at all." - -"No, but you admire this gentleman. Your eyes, your voice betray you. I -shall send him the one word he asks for so prettily." - -"You will do no such thing;" but Adelaide had glided from the room, and -shortly after Eugene set forth with the courier in quest of his friend, -whom he finally succeeded in persuading to return with him, without -awaiting a response to his missive. - -It is not our intention to present to our readers the details of the scenes -that followed within the next few weeks; we leave to their more vivid -imaginations to fancy the arguments by which M. de Villeneuve won the -consent of his ideal lady. A few days more, and he was travelling to London -with Eugene to obtain the formal consent of Mr. Godfrey. - -"Is that the secret of Hester's dejection?" thought the father, and that -thought made his consent the readier. - -"But how can you, so staunch a member of the church, resolve to marry a -heretic?" - -"Hester it no heretic," replied the marquis. - -"Love covers all faults, I see," said Mr. Godfrey, smiling. "Well, settle -that matter between yourselves, only you must put no constraint on Hester -on the score of religion. She is a spoiled child, and would ill brook -opposition; it would break her heart if it came from one she loved." - -{44} - -The arrival of the carriage which brought Hester and the duchess back to -the mansion, put an end to the colloquy, and at the next consultation with -the ladies the marquis suggested that, seeing Mr. Godfrey had already laid -hold of the wrong idea, it was as well to let time undeceive him in a -natural way. "Your English law," said he, "compels marriage to be legalized -by the English establishment. We will receive the sacrament of marriage -privately in the morning and legalize it in your drawing-room afterward, -before an English minister.[Footnote 7] After Hester is once my wife, Mr. -Godfrey will not take it to heart that she should follow her husband's -religion, even if he inquire about the matter." And thus the matter was -managed, and the marquis and his lovely bride were already on the point of -starting on their wedding tour, when a startling missive from Annie threw -all the circle in commotion. Sir Philip Conway had been thrown from his -horse while hunting, and had broken his neck. But his wickedness had -outlived him; he had left orders in his will that his wife should be -debarred access to his house, or to his children, further providing that -neither of those children should inherit one acre of land or one shilling -of his property unless they were brought up apart from their mother. -Annie's letter was dated from a hotel near to her late husband's -dwelling-house. - - [Footnote 7: This was the case before the passing of the Catholic - Emancipation Bill.] - -"I doubt their power to enforce that will," said Eugene, as be handed the -letter to his father, after reading it aloud. - -"And so do I," said Adelaide; "at all events, Annie shall have her -children, property or no property." - -The marquis, Hester, all the party present expressed in varied tones their -indignation, and Mr. Godfrey, borne along by the current of family opinion, -at length joined in the resolve to see Annie replaced in possession of the -children _coute qui coute_. The wedding trip took the direction of Sir -Philip's dwelling, and as soon as it was ascertained that the funeral was -over, Adelaide, with that determination that marked her character, drove up -to the house, accompanied by the party comprising her father, brother, the -marquis, and Hester. She demanded to see the children. The dowager Lady -Conway appeared with her daughter. The duchess bowed, and requested to see -the children. - -The lady hemmed--hesitated--did not know. "The children were under the -guardianship of Mr. Brookbank," she said; she supposed he must be -consulted. - -The name seemed to strike the marquis. "What Brookbank?" he asked. - -"He was Sir Philip's agent and man of business, and is left his executor." - -"Is he any relative to the family at Estcourt?" - -"Why, yes, it is the same family; they have moved here." - -The entrance of the gentleman in question put an end to the questioning, -but the marquis kept a sharp eye upon him. - -With smooth, bland words and deprecating gestures, Alfred Brookbank -proceeded to explain to the duchess that it was his duty, his very painful -duty, to deny her grace's request at the present moment, until measures had -been taken to secure the due and legal administration of Sir Philip's will. -Adelaide's indignant remonstrances were unheeded, and a very painful -feeling was pervading the party, when suddenly M. de Villeneuve rose and -said: "Mr. Brookbank, may I beg the favor of a few words in private?" -Alfred rose, and led the way to another apartment. Half an-hour elapsed; -the party awaited the event in silence. Alfred did not return, but the -marquis did, and with him entered the two children and their nurse, -equipped for a drive. -{45} -With a bow, the marquis addressed the ladies of the house: "Mr. Brookbank -has consented to entrust the guardianship of these two children to me for -the present. I have the honor to wish you good morning." His wife and the -rest of the party rose at his signal, and departed, carrying off the -children with them. - -"Now," said he, when they were once more together, "let no one ask me how -this was managed, because I have passed my word that so long as Lady Conway -is not molested in her custody of these children, I will explain nothing. I -do not know how the law will decide respecting the property; Mr. Godfrey -will, perhaps, see to that. But I wish Lady Conway and her children could -be prevailed upon to cross the Atlantic with us; I fear leaving that fellow -any legal power, when I am out of the way to hold him to the bargain he -made with me to-day." - -"I will go with you, Annie, if you like to take the trip," said Eugene. - -"And Euphrasie and the dear nuns are going," said Annie; "I am willing to -travel in such good company." - -. . . . . . - - - Chapter XXXI. - - America. - -Two years have passed since the events happened which we last presented to -our readers: it is on the other side of the Atlantic that our view now -opens, but the friends we greet are of those we left behind. - -The scene is in a beautiful extensive garden, well planted with trees; -behind, on an eminence, rises a large white house with numerous piazzas -which contrast pleasingly with the green sward and shrubs before it. The -slope before the house is covered with groups of children weaving garlands, -for it is a holiday, the feast of St. Aloysius; and all the schools have -freed their pupils great and small. Feeling the privilege of the day, the -children have bounded into the grounds of their patrons, M. and Madame de -Villeneuve. They knew that a strawberry festival was preparing for them, -and on their parts were anxious to be busy. Festoons were hung from pillar -to pillar. The large refectory was opened, and the walls garlanded; merry -voices were singing childish hymns and songs, and good humor was visible -everywhere. - -The grounds were very spacious; far away might be seen grown persons in -holiday-trim; lads and lasses preparing the tables, and a band of music -sending up, every now and then, cheery notes to gladden all around. - -In yonder silent glade too, half hid by the thickness of the foliage, -Eugene Godfrey is walking with his young bride; they are not yet past the -honeymoon, and are bound for England. To-morrow is the day fixed for their -departure, and the lady-bride; formerly Elise de Villeneuve, the youngest -and fairest daughter of the house of De Villeneuve, is sentimentalizing -very prettily her regrets at leaving, perhaps for ever, the paternal -mansion. - -Clotilde de Villeneuve, who has already entered as a postulant at the -convent which is visible on that eminence to the right--rising majestically -above the world and backed in the distance by the interminable forest; from -which it is separated by that lovely series of lakes which lie at the foot -of the hill on which the building stands--Clotilde de Villeneuve has for -this one day consented to break inclosure that she may bid good-by to the -young sister she brought up so carefully since her mother died. - -There is another lady there, looking fairer and younger than when we saw -her last, giving directions in a very pleasing tone; and ever and anon -looking back, a little anxiously perhaps, to see what two young girls were -doing with a something in a bundle of white muslin, which seemed very -animated, and which the nurses are trying to kill with kindness. - -{46} - -The pastor approaches, a fine old man with mild eyes, white hair, and a -very benevolent aspect. All the little ones rise and courtesy, and Hester, -yes, our old friend Hester, comes forward to greet him affectionately. - -"Where is your husband, my dear lady?" asked the good priest, after -returning the preliminary greeting. - -"Well, I hardly know, he has been on the _qui vive_ all day, here and -there and everywhere. I hardly know where he is now. Do you want him -particularly, father? You seem uneasy." - -"Let us go in out of this hot sun," said the pastor, wiping his forehead. - -They adjourned to the parlor, which opened on both sides to a piazza shaded -by climbing plants, and thus promised a cool retreat. Hester handed the old -gentleman a refreshing drink, for he seemed weary and excited. On setting -down the glass, be whispered: "Are we alone here? Is anyone listening?" - -"Not that I am aware of." said Hester, glancing in all directions. "I see -no one, father, what is the matter?" - -"There is mischief brewing in the city yonder; I want to see your husband. -For the last six weeks there has been a strange man there, of singular -eloquence, fomenting discord about Catholics, getting up a no-popery cry, -uttering fearful scandals concerning the convent; to-night the people -threaten to burn it down." - -"Can this be true? Who is your informant?" - -"My man Walter. It seems he knew the stranger in England." - -"I know Edward has been annoyed with reports of some plots, but he thought -as little about it as he could; he never harmed any body, and cannot -imagine any body would harm him." - -"This is a religions or rather a fanatical plot. What the purpose is, it is -difficult to discover. The designer means something dark, you may be sure, -the multitude are but his tools. He has used all the plea he could find; -have not your committees refused many applications to receive pupils?" - -"Yes, Edward acts on his father's plan, and he says the old marquis always -insisted that a child was more formed by his companions than by his -teachers; that one dissipated worldly companion would contaminate a school. -It seems he loved real children, and hated the little bits of affectation, -aping men and women, which we now so often see; so Edward will positively -not have a child in the schools unless he knows the home influence they are -under. In fact, our schools are not only exclusively Catholic, those we -call normal schools are open only to picked Catholics. Edward wants them to -turn out good and efficient teachers of practical Catholicity, and before -he receives a pupil he not only exacts certain promises from the children, -but from the parents also, as to the influence they will exercise from a -distance. As long as they attend his schools they are under certain -restrictions, at home as well as abroad." - -"All this is good for the children, but it has made enemies. Those out of -the pale pretend something must be wrong in so exclusive a system; they are -jealous of advantages from which their children are excluded." - -"But a great deal of the influence exerted is purely religious; how can we -bring that influence to bear on such as are not Catholics, or who are -worldly Catholics, who come merely for secular advantages?" - -"I am not saying you are not right; I only say you have made enemies." - -"I believe my husband would rather give up the schools than compromise his -principles. He has been intimately acquainted with the management of some -Catholic schools in which all parties were admitted: the rule was to all -alike, it was difficult to make a distinction. Children, non-Catholics, -were admitted to religious societies, services, and processions. -{47} -He has a very firm conviction that the result was that they were led to -believe that assisting with due outward decorum, without the internal -feeling of reverence, was all that Catholicity required; while the -Catholics themselves, seeing others without faith were thus admitted, -naturally ceased to regard faith as so essential a matter as the sermons -heard in church proclaim it to be, and became liberal Catholics when they -retained their faith at all. My husband knows he is called bigoted, but I -do not think it has changed his feeling. He thinks the Catholic school a -sacred place; and the soul of a little baptized child a thing to be guarded -with reverential awe." - -"Yes, I know De Villeneuve's reverence: he should have lived in the times -when the catechumens were driven out of the church before the sacred -mysteries could be performed." - -"Indeed, father, I have seen his whole frame quiver with terror when any -one, Catholic or non-Catholic, behaved irreverently in the presence of the -blessed sacrament. He maintains that the worldliness of the age springs -from the want of this reverence." - -"He may be right, but meantime we must provide for the present safety. Your -brother is not gone?" - -"No, he starts to-morrow. I will send for him to come and see you." - -M. de Villeneuve was not to be found, for the very cause that brought the -priest to his dwelling. He was in earnest conference with the priest's man -Walter on the subject of the projected attack. "Are you sure it was your -brother that you saw?" - -"Quite sure, sir." - -"You did not let him see you?" - -"I did not; I was very careful on that point." - -"And you are sure they fixed tonight?" - -"Quite sure, but if disappointed tonight they will try some other night." - -"Did you hear of any one person marked out for any special object." - -"There will be an attempt made to carry off Lady Conway and her children." - -"I suspected as much. Well, we must be prepared; I will row Lady Conway -across the lake, and you can drive her up the country to neighbor -Friendly's house, without anyone suspecting the matter. Be silent and -cautious, I will prepare watches secretly. You get home as quickly as you -can from the drive." - -"I will, sir." - -The _fête_ passed off without any alarm: no one would have dreamed -that an attack was expected. The nuns one by one left the convent, which -was supposed to be the object aimed at by the attack, and let the watchers -guard the dwelling, while they took refuge at M. de Villeneuve's mansion. -They dared not alarm the inmates of the school-house, which they thought -was left out of the plot, lest their plan of safety should be frustrated. -But an armed band watched over its safety in the hovels, and wherever they -could be stationed unseen. - -It was a dreary watch, though a lovely night; the round, full moon threw -its splendid light over hill and and valley, lake and forest glades. Not a -sound was heard. The watchers did not trust themselves to speak, lest they -should give the alarm outside. Eleven, twelve, one, two; shall we wait -longer? Yes, there is a sound outside; the out-houses are already on fire, -and the school-house and the convent--all at once. A whole multitude of -rioters are in the grounds; they force the convent doors, and, to their -surprise, are met by armed men. - -"Save, save the children," is the cry; "let everything go, even the -prisoners, till they are saved." There is no engine, the city is so far -away, and rioters are all around; but ladders had been prepared during the -day, and everyone was soon in requisition. But the fire seemed then the -least evil, for as each young lady was borne from the flames a mob -surrounded her, and a fight ensued for possession. It was a terrible scene, -the more terrible as it was impossible to get the children and teachers -together to see if all were there. -{48} -There was no resource but to fire on the assailants, and accordingly a -volley was discharged. This sobered the people somewhat; they loosed their -hold and fled. One man, with a few followers, lingered awhile, apparently -very anxious still to examine the parties saved; he was observed and seized -by a strong hand and bound. Alfred Brookbank was the prisoner of his -brother Walter. - -And now are the pupils all saved? for the house is burning fast. How -anxiously they were counted! What a relief to find them all there! There -were no lives lost, and but that the building had been fired in many places -at once, that could have been saved by the valiant arms who were there to -defend it. But the evil work had been done effectually, the convent and -school-house were level with the ground. Many of the valuables had been -removed the day before; but the furniture was destroyed. The newspapers -said it was the work of the mob; yes, but that mob was excited by one man's -revengeful soul, which had animated the spirit of that mob to frenzy. -Americans are too generous to make war upon defenceless women, unless -incited thereto by some false tale of wickedness. - -To bring the poor frightened children into the house, and to send to the -city for police, occupied nearly all the night, and part of the next day; -and then they took time to examine the prisoner who had been cast bound -into the cellar. He was crest-fallen and terror-smitten at last! He knew -the tale of terror his brother would have to tell; the quarrel about the -estate; the offer to compromise; the attempt to drown him by throwing him -over-board near the falls; and, finally, the belief on Alfred's part that -the crime had been consummated when a body, disfigured and shapeless, had -been picked up below the falls. He did not wait long in jail to have this -and a long catalogue brought out against him--he died by his own hand. - -Walter Brookbank wandering, restless, and dissipated, had been seized with -fever in a wretched hovel, where he was found by some poor Catholics, who -brought the priest (then on a mission in that district) to see him. The -priest had him tended and cared for till he was well, then invited him to -his house, and converted him to a Christian life; redeemed him doubly, -first from the death of this life, then from that of the next. Walter had -been grateful, and preferred to live henceforth as servant of the church, -than to re-encounter the perils of the world by claiming his inheritance; -it passed by default to his mother and sisters. - -Our tale draws to its conclusion. - -The multitude who, deceived by Alfred Brookbank's inflammatory tongue, had -fired the convent, slunk away to their homes, ashamed, at length, of having -expended all their energy in a cowardly attack on defenceless women and -children. Would I could say they repented and endeavored to repair the -mischief; but it was not so, the convent was rebuilt, but it was by -Catholic money, by Catholic hands, and by Catholic hearts; and save the -ring-leader, who, as we have seen, judged himself, the perpetrators of the -dastardly deed remained unsought for by the authorities, undiscovered and -unpunished. - -This event checked for a while the work of the good society which M. de -Villeneuve had founded, and of which he was the president and the "animus." -This society was composed of enlightened Catholic fathers and mothers, who -were fervent in their desires of establishing high Catholic education on a -firm and practical basis. It was a committee formed to aid the practice of -those precepts delivered by the zealous pastors of the church; to examine -the books put into the hands of children, and to have them written, if none -suitable were found, on the subjects required; to discuss all points of -discipline recommended to them by the teachers, and provide that the -financial department should not harass those who had charge of the -intellectual department. -{49} -They were outside co-operators in the good work of education; valuable -coadjutors in a matter in which it concerns every good Catholic to interest -himself, for society is made up of individuals, and on the good training of -those individuals depends the public welfare. - -Their schools comprised both sexes; I will now speak of the girls only, as -it was the matter in which our friend Hester most interested herself, for -the reason that she thought that the formation of good women, wives and -mothers, is lost sight of in the fashionable circles of our large cities. -She had discovered that the fathers and husbands (men of large wealth and -of thriving business) were, through the extravagance and non-domesticity of -their families (more particularly of their wives and daughters), leading a -life of torture under the appearance of prosperity; and that young men, -with incomes of from $1,500 to $2,000 a year, shrank from marrying, because -of the extravagance and selfishness they daily witnessed among the ladies. -"Now," said Hester, with something of her old positiveness, "if this is so, -the responsibility of the shame and degradation of so many unfortunate -women lies at the door of the rich and honored ladies who turn aside from -them in disgust, and the education of true women must be the basis of the -renovation of society: for to woman's influence is confided the happiness -of the family, as to family influence is committed the guardianship of the -state. Where the family is out of joint, the state will be out of joint -too. O my dear Edward! I now comprehend the prophecy you think so much of: -'That the worship of the blessed mother of God will be in after times one -such as is not dreamed of in the present age of disruption. The blessed -Virgin is the example of all womanhood; the family of Nazareth the true -type of the Christian family; labor, purity, intelligence, submission, such -must be the watchwords of all womanly training; such will form happy -households and forward true progress.'" - -The objects of the educational institutions at Villeneuve were in strict -accordance with these views; they comprised several classes, and in each -class were several departments. - -The highest was that of a boarding-school, regulated by the nuns -themselves; it was within the enclosure, though apart from the convent, and -having its own allotted grounds. It was a normal school, the object of -which was to prepare efficient school teachers for the parochial schools -throughout the country. No pupil could enter this establishment under -fifteen years of age, or for a shorter period than three years; and if at -the end of that time she had won her diploma, she was expected for the two -years following to place herself at the disposal of the church, to teach -any parochial school that might require such assistance. Besides the -thorough course of instruction given during these three years, to enable -the pupils to fulfil their duties efficiently as school-teachers, and to -keep pace with the secular knowledge required by the age, the pupils were -required to do all their own work: they took it by turns to provide for the -household; the cooking, washing, every part of the household work, and -making their own clothes, were all done by themselves; so that at the end -of the five years, when their term of teaching had expired, they were ready -to become either efficient members of society, fit to perform the duty of -wife, mother, or teacher, or to enter religion, should such prove to be -their vocation. - -The second class of schools were named the probation schools; these, in -their various departments, received children of all ages under fifteen, but -Catholics only. The parents of the children attending these schools were -required to give a guarantee that, during the children's attendance at -these schools, they should not be allowed to read either novels or any -other books not approved by the committee, nor attend any place of -amusement disapproved by the church. -{50} -In fact, during their attendance at school, it was a part of the labor of -the directors to provide suitable relaxation within the school grounds, -that they might the more easily discourage all dissipation outside. There -were also regulations concerning deportment and dress, which formed very -efficient aids in inculcating Christian manners, but the details of which -it is not necessary to give here. - -These schools are supposed to be the Christian schools _par -pre-eminence_. The young ladies of the first-named schools were much -sought as wives, when their excellence became known; most of them could -have married rich men, had they chosen to marry out of the church, but -this, I need hardly say, they refused to do. Many entered teaching -sisterhoods, and proved very efficient members of the society which they -joined. - -The children of the second series were, on the other hand, simple, joyous, -affectionate, pious, and obedient. The age for childhood was renewed, and -the results were very pleasing. - -Besides these, the committee prevailed on M. de Villeneuve to establish -(after the incendiary fire) general schools open to the community at large. -In these schools the routine was Catholic; none but Catholic books were -admitted, and as much Catholic training was introduced as the public mind -would bear. These institutions were thronged, for the teachers were -efficient, and the discipline much approved of. These were the best -remunerating schools of the series. But M. de Villeneuve could never be -brought to be satisfied with the results, and only in deference to the -wishes of his friends did he tolerate them at all. His chief care was to -prevent children from these schools being admitted to serve in the church -or to take part in religious processions, until they had been well proved, -and then he wished them removed to the Christian schools before he -presented them to the pastor. Many thought the man a monomaniac, he had so -great a horror of sacrilege, or indeed of witnessing any irreverence in the -church at all. Strangely enough, his wife Hester saw in this only an -additional virtue, which she endeavored to assist her husband in enforcing, -as indeed she did in all his regulations. - -A week or two after the fire, when the excitement had somewhat subsided, -Eugene took his young wife to England. He found that Adelaide had been so -busy during the past two years in providing orphan asylums, refuges, and -hospitals, and so forth, that Mr. Godfrey had been very frequently alone, -and this rendered him very glad to welcome his pretty, gentle -daughter-in-law, and he persuaded Eugene to establish himself at Estcourt -Hall, that he himself might have a home for his old age. In due time he -learnt to amuse himself with his, little grand-children, utterly forgetful -that they were members of a hated church. I never heard that be became a -Catholic himself. - -Eugene soon found interest and employment in aiding the Catholic movement -which first agitated for emancipation, and then employed earnest minds in -co-operating with the declared will of the church, to give efficiency to -the measures which soon after provided a Catholic hierarchy for England. - -As soon as Mr. Godfrey's comfort was provided for in Eugene's household, -Adelaide united her efforts to those of Ellen, and together they -established a society, which in after years developed itself as one of the -many orders of Mercy which bless the great city of London. Without a -uniform, though living under a rule, these ladies and their associates -perform countless deeds of charity and kindness, the origin of which is -often unknown to the recipients. Few among that saintly community are more -anxious to obey, or to humble themselves, than the once proud duchess. -Generous to all, to herself alone she became sparing and non-indulgent, and -if the voice of praise, often publicly lauding her, met her ear in private, -she would say, with a sigh, "Ah! how easy is all this, to give when we have -more than we want, and to love those who spend their life in toil for the -comfort and luxury of the wealthy. -{51} -But to love God as Bridget Norton loved him; to trust him when nothing but -clouds and darkness were around; to face starvation, disgrace, and all, in -trust that God would bring up those dear little ones for himself--this is -heroism. Oh! talk not of the goodness of the rich; they are great people in -this world of false show, but Bridget Norton called down the angels to -witness her death and bear her noble martyr soul to heaven." - -. . . . - -Annie's children rewarded her care; the boy became a worthy priest, and the -girl, after witnessing the consecration of her brother, requested -permission to enter the convent in which she was brought up. Mother and -daughter received the veil on the same day. All efforts to recover the -property for the children proved fruitless. But they had long since learned -that happiness does not consist in wealth. - ------- - - Original - - - Kettle Song. - - - Sing, kettle, sing! - Busily boil away! - My goodman to the field has gone, - The children are out at play. - - Sing, kettle, sing! - Sing me a merry song! - You and I have company kept - This many a year along. - - Sing, kettle, sing! - I'll join with a low refrain-- - Needle and thread drawn through my work, - Like steadily falling rain. - - Sing, kettle, sing! - The far-off fancies come, - But never a sad or a weary thought - Along with your cheery hum. - - Sing, kettle, sing! - The hearth is swept and clean, - And the tidy broom in the corner stands - Like a little household queen. - - Sing, kettle, sing! - Evening is drawing nigh, - The shadows are coming down the hill - And coming up in the sky. - -{52} - - Sing, kettle, sing! - Shadows are on the wall-- - The last stitch done! a merry shout! - And here are the rovers all! - - Sing, kettle, sing! - By the merry candle-light, - And you and I'll keep company - Again to-morrow night! - - Fanny Fielding. - -------------- - - Original. - - Ritualism. - - by John R. G. Hassard. - - -In one of the up-town streets of New-York there is a Protestant Episcopal -Church dedicated to St. Alban. It is externally a plain, unattractive -little building of brick and stone, in the early English style, with a -modest little porch, and a sharp high roof, surmounted by a belfry and a -cross. Within there is little to be seen in the way of ornament about the -body of the church. The seats are plain benches rather than pews, and are -free to all comers. But any one who should enter St. Alban's, not knowing -to what denomination it belonged, and should look toward the sanctuary, -would be very apt to fancy for a moment that he had got into a Catholic -Church. Let us imagine ourselves among the crowd of curious spectators who -fill the edifice of a Sunday morning. In place of the reading-desk -conspicuous in most Protestant meeting-houses, there is a very -proper-looking altar set back against the chancel wall, and ornamented with -a colored and embroidered antependium. Behind it, instead of a painting, -there is an illuminated screen-work, with inscriptions in old English -ecclesiastical text, not much easier to be read than if they were in Latin. -Where the tabernacle ought to be, stands a large gilt cross; on each side -of it are vases and ornaments. On a shelf which runs along the wall back of -the altar there are candlesticks, three tall ones at each side, and two -others just over the altar itself. We see altar-cards, such as are used at -mass; a burse for holding the corporal; and a chalice covered with a veil, -the color of which varies with the season of the ecclesiastical year. Today -not being a festival, the hue is green. At one end of the altar is a big -book on a movable stand. At the epistle side is a credence table with a -silver paten, on which is the wafer-bread for communion, and with vessels -of wine and water that might be called cruets if they were only a little -smaller. The pulpit stands just outside the railings on the left. There is -a little raised desk on it for the preachers's book or manuscript, and this -desk is covered with a green veil. Opposite the pulpit on the right hand -side is a lectern with a bible on it. The lectern likewise has green -hangings. On one side of the sanctuary is a row of stalls, precisely like -those we see in some of our cathedrals and seminary-chapels. On the other -are benches for the choristers. The organ is in a recess just behind them, -and the organist sits in the chancel, in full view of the people, with his -back to the instrument. He wears a white surplice, and presents altogether -a very respectable and ecclesiastical appearance. - -{53} - -The appointments of St. Alban's being so very much like those of a real -church, we shall not be surprised to find the service almost equally like a -real mass. At the appointed hour an acolyte in cassock and surplice lights -the two candles on the altar. Then we hear a chorus of male voices-- -principally boys--intoning a chant, and presently a procession issues from -the vestry door and files into the chancel. First comes a lad wearing a -black cassock and short surplice, and carrying a cross on a tall staff. -Then follow the chanters, men and boys, similarly attired; then one or two -clergymen, or perhaps theological students, also in cassock and surplice; -next two little boys in red cassocks; and finally two officiating -ministers, wearing long albs. The "priest" has a green stole, crossed on -his breast, and confined at the sides by a cincture; the "deacon's" stole -is worn over the left shoulder. The clerks take their places in the stalls; -the singers proceed to their benches. The cross-bearer kneels at one side -of the altar; the "priest" kneels at the foot of the steps, with the deacon -behind him and the acolytes at his side. The service about to be performed -is not the "Order of Morning Prayer" prescribed by the prayer-book, but -simply the communion service. The officiating minister (for the sake of -convenience let us call him what he calls himself--the priest; though -without, of course, admitting his sacerdotal character) chants a short -prayer, very much in the style of the chanting we hear at mass, and the -choir respond "Amen." Then the litany is chanted antiphonally, by one of -the clergy and the choristers alternately; it is in the main a translation -of that part of our litany of the saints in which we address Almighty God -directly, without asking the intercession of his blessed. This over, the -ministers and acolytes retire in the same order in which they entered, and -the organist plays a voluntary, during which the other six altar-candles -are lighted. When the clergy return the priest is seen in a green maniple -and chasuble. The latter differs from the vestment worn by the Catholic -priest at mass only in being less stiff in texture, pointed behind, and -covering the arm nearly to the elbow; and instead of being embroidered with -a cross on the back it is marked with a figure nearly resembling the letter -Y. With hands clasped before his breast the priest now ascends the steps, -and standing before the altar, with his back to the people, goes on with -the second part of the service. We need not describe it, for it is -principally translated from the missal. The words are all repeated in a -tone which is half reading and half chanting, and whenever the minister -says "Let us Pray," or "The Lord be with you," he turns round to the people -like a priest chanting "Oremus" or "Dominus Vobiscum." The epistle and -gospel are read by the deacon. The sermon follows; a rather vague and wordy -discourse, chiefly remarkable for the frequent and affectionate use of the -term "Catholic." The preacher begins by saying "In the name of the Father, -and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," and the more devoutly disposed of -the congregation thereupon cross themselves. After the sermon comes the -most solemn part of the service, taken nearly verbatim from the canon of -the mass; and at the commencement a great many of the congregation who -apparently are not communicants, leave the church with reverential faces, -as if they supposed the old law forbidding catechumens to witness the more -sacred mysteries were still in force. But the curious spectators, who -compose a large proportion of the audience, are under no such scruple about -remaining. - -{54} - -We need not describe the order of the service in detail, because the words -are almost exactly those to which we are ourselves accustomed, and the -ceremonies come as close to those of the mass as it is possible to make -them come. Whenever the ministers or attendants pass before the altar they -make a low bow to the cross. As the time of consecration approaches, the -deacon goes to the corner of the altar, and the acolytes bring him there -the bread and water and wine, which he hands to the priest, the wine and -water being mixed in the chalice. The prayer of consecration (a translation -of our own) is chanted like the rest of the service, until the priest -reaches the words, "This is my body," etc., "This is my blood," etc.; -those, suddenly dropping his voice, he repeats in a low voice, bending -over, and immediately afterward lifting up the elements on high. The -attendants, during this ceremony, hold up the corners of his vestment. -After the consecration all make genuflections, instead of bows, when they -have occasion to pass before the altar. - -After receiving communion himself, the priest administers it to the deacon -and clergy and the altar boys. The people then approach the railing and the -priest gives them the consecrated wafer, using the formula prescribed in -the Catholic and the Protestant Episcopal liturgies alike--"The body of our -Lord Jesus Christ," etc.; but with each morsel of bread before he gives it -he makes the sign of the cross, which is a striking innovation in the -Protestant service. The deacon follows with the chalice. Before the -communion, however, a general confession is recited, and then the priest, -turning toward the people with great solemnity, repeats the form of -absolution, making the sign of the cross as he does so with outstretched -arm. After communion the celebrant scrapes the crumbs from the paten into -the chalice, and takes the ablutions at the corner of the altar exactly as -the priest does at mass. And when the congregation is dismissed at the -close, it is with a blessing and the sign of the cross, just as we are -dismissed after the _Ite, Missa est_ at the end of the mass. - -On specially solemn occasions incense is used at St. Alban's, and various -other ceremonies are performed which have been borrowed from the Catholic -ritual. For example, candles are placed about the corpse when the burial -service is read. - -We have described a service at St. Alban's, because that is the church in -which the ritualistic ideas, as they are called, are carried out to the -fullest development they have thus far attained in the United States. But -the rector and congregation of St. Alban's are by no means the only persons -of the Protestant Episcopal denomination who entertain those ideas. They -are only a little more advanced in their views than the majority of the -High Church Episcopal party. There are many places in New York where Sunday -services are conducted more or less in conformity with the practices of the -ritualists; and antiphonal chanting and other popish abominations have been -introduced, even into sober old Trinity Church itself. The number of those -who believe that divine service ought to be conducted with a more elaborate -ceremonial than any Protestant sect has thus far admitted is rapidly -increasing, and among them are many of the most distinguished and -influential of the Episcopal clergy. - -But if so many strange things are done in our own country, they are nothing -to the innovations which are rapidly gaining ground in the Church of -England. The ritualistic movement in Great Britain is not so much the -struggle of an enthusiastic party for change or reform as it is the -spontaneous working of a logical doctrinal development which is gradually -spreading throughout the community. There is a struggle attending it; but -it is the struggle of the let-alone party for its repression, not of the -apostles of ritualism for its extension. And in spite, perhaps partly in -consequence, of the bitterness of the opposition, the number of churches in -which the good old Catholic ceremonies are revived in their ancient -splendor is, daily augmenting, and the zeal of the congregations is -increasing. -{55} -Ritualism in England is not what Punch is so fond of representing it--a -mere system of ecclesiastical millinery, born of the sick brains of foolish -and fanciful young curates; but it is a genuine expression of the sentiment -of a respectable minority of the Protestant laity. The numerous -prayer-books and similar works, prepared for the use of laymen under -ritualistic inspiration, are sold by _millions_ of copies. One -entitled "The Churchman's Guide to Faith and Piety," contains formulas for -morning and evening prayer, with an examination of conscience; devotions -for saints' days; instructions for systematic sacramental confession, and -for devoutly receiving the holy Eucharist and assisting at the sacred -mysteries; and _prayers for the faithful departed_. The real presence -and the sacrificial character of the holy Eucharist are expressed in the -clearest possible manner. There are several hand-books of devotion toward -the blessed sacrament, and manuals of religious exercises in honor of -certain particular manifestations of the divine goodness, such, for -instance, as the passion of our Saviour. A collection of "Hymns, Ancient -and Modern," of which it was stated some time ago that over one and a half -millions of copies had been sold, contains simply the principal hymns of -the Breviary, and in a work entitled "An Appendix to the Hymnal Noted," the -advanced Puseyite will find complete directions for using those hymns in -public worship, according to the rubrics of the Breviary. An English -publisher has just announced a new manual containing "the offices of prime -and compline and the vigils for the dead; the forms of blessing and -sprinkling holy water; the _Missa in nocte Nativitatis Domini_; the -Lenten litanies; the blessing of the ashes and the palm branches; the -washing of the altars and the _Maundy_; the benediction of the fonts -on Holy Saturday, and the like: translated from the Latin, with an -introduction and explanatory notes, and illustrated with extracts from the -consuetudinary of the church of Sarnm and the plain-song of the Mechlin -office-books." - -"Matins" and "vespers" are chanted in many of the English churches by -choristers robed in surplices and ranged on each side of the chancel. The -Gregorian tones are used to a great extent. The officiating clergyman wears -a cope on festival days, and it has been the custom until lately to incense -the altar during the chanting of the _Magnificat_. The most complete -return, however, to the practice of the ancient church is seen in the -celebration of the Eucharist. All the Catholic vestments--the amice, alb, -cincture, maniple, stole, and chasuble--have been restored. The regulations -of the rubrics respecting different colors for different days and seasons -are followed. Sometimes the celebrant is attended by a deacon and a -subdeacon, acolytes, and censer bearers; and the use of candles on the -altar is very common. Even in churches where candles, incense, and colored -vestments are unknown, the Introit, taken from the Roman missal or the -missal of Salisbury, is frequently chanted at the beginning of the service, -and it is a very common practice to add to the regular liturgy contained in -the Book of Common Prayer various prayers taken from the ordinary and the -canon of the mass. For example, the minister often prefixes to the service -the psalm _Judica me, Deus_ with the antiphon, the _Confiteor_, -etc., which we hear every day at mass. So, too, when the celebrant is -placing the bread and wine on the altar, he borrows our offertory and the -prayers which follow it, his own liturgy not having furnished him with -anything appropriate to the occasion. The Anglican office sets down no -prayers for the priest's own communion; he, therefore, supplies the -omission by reciting in a low voice the _unde et memores_ of the -missal. - -{56} - -The use of crucifixes and images, and especially the image of the blessed -virgin, holding her divine Son in her arms, is by no means uncommon among -the more advanced ritualists; and some clergymen are in the habit of -blessing objects of devotion, such as medals and crosses, and even of -blessing holy water. A correspondent of a London newspaper writes a letter -of indignant complaint about the Christmas celebrations this season, at -some of the "advanced" churches, in one of which he declares that -"numberless tapers shed their halo of glory upon a veritable -_Bambino_," or figure of the infant Saviour lying in the manger. An -Anglican Missal has been published at Oxford, containing the order of the -Communion service, without any other part of the Liturgy. This service is -commonly spoken of as the "mass," and we even hear of "high mass," and "low -mass," to say nothing of matins and vespers. A few weeks ago we read an -account in an English paper of a nuptial mass in one of the ritualistic -churches. The faithful address their ministers as Father John, Father -Peter, or whatever the Christian name may be, and talk of their -"confessors" and "spiritual directors" with all the composure of genuine -Catholics. - -The following description of a service at St. Alban's in London in holy -week, is taken from an English newspaper: - - The altar on Maundy Thursday was vested in white and the holy Eucharist - was solemnly celebrated at 7 A.M. when many of the members of a - confraternity attached to the church communicated. After the morning - service the altar was entirely stripped of all its vestings and ornaments - except the candlesticks, and so remained until Easter eve. On Good - Friday, there was a meditation at 8 A.M., which was well attended. The - church was full at 10.30, when matins and the ante-communion office were - said. The sermon was followed by the chanting of the Reproaches, and the - hymn _Pange Lingua_. At 2 P.M., after the singing of the litany, the - Rev. A. H. Mackonochie preached the three hours' agony, the order of - which was as follows: (1.) One of the words of our Lord on the cross, was - chanted by the choir; (2.) A short sermon on the word was next - pronounced; (3.) All knelt in silent meditation, the organ playing - softly; (4.) A hymn was sung. This order was observed for each of the - words on the cross, the whole service lasting three hours and a half. At - 3 o'clock, the hour of our Lord's death, the bell was tolled for five - minutes, while all knelt in silence. Even-song, or vespers, took place at - 7 P.M. The sermon was followed by the chanting of the _Stabat Mater_ - and _Miserere_. A meditation on the taking down from the cross - closed the evening. All through the day the bell was tolled solemnly, and - most of the congregation appeared in mourning. On Easter eve there was - service at 9 P.M. The church was elaborately decorated for the coming - festival with white and scarlet hangings, hot-house flowers, and candles. - The service opened with a procession, the chanters singing the old Easter - hymn _O filii et filiae_, and three of the attendants carrying - banners. Then vespers were chanted, and after the reading of the second - lesson the sacrament of baptism was administered to twenty-eight persons. - On Easter Sunday the Eucharist was celebrated at 7, 8, and 9 A.M.; at - 10.30, matins were sung; and at 11.15 there was a grand Easter service - which we suppose the high and dry "Anglo-Catholics" would call high mass. - The ministers and attendants, with lights and banners, entered in - procession, while the choristers chanted the hymn _Ad Caenam Agni_. - As soon as they reached the altar, the Introit was sung, and the "mass" - or communion service, was then celebrated in the usual manner, another - breviary hymn, the _victimae Paschali_, being chanted at the - offertory. - -In an account of the holy week services at St. Philip's, Clerkenwell, we -read that on Palm Sunday the altar was vested in black, the cross veiled -with crape, and the retable strewn with palm branches. -{57} -The choir, bearing palms, entered the church, singing the hymn "Ride on, -etc.," preceded by the processional cross which was also veiled with crape. -At a church in the diocese of Manchester recently, the services for Good -Friday began at midnight, with a litany and sermon. At 6 A. M. there was a -litany again, with a second sermon. At 9 A. M. followed matins and a -sermon; at noon a special service and sermon; at 3 P. M. litany and sermon; -at 6, evensong, and sermon, at 9, litany, sermon and benediction. The -Church Times, a ritualist periodical, remarked that it was "cheering to -find the Catholic view of the observance of the great fast so admirably -developed in a diocese so terribly over-ridden by Puritanism." - -Some of our readers may remember the circumstances attending the funeral of -the Rev. John Mason Neale at East Grinstead, England, in August 1866. Dr. -Neale was well known as the author of some admirable translations of -Breviary hymns, as one of the most earnest apostles of ritualism, and as -the founder of a convent of women. The burial ceremonies, in the chapel of -Sackville College, included what might be called a high mass of requiem, -with priest, deacon, and sub-deacon, habited in magnificent vestments of -black silk trimmed with silver; an assistant priest; and a master of -ceremonies, or _ceremoniarius_. The service commenced with the introit -"Grant them eternal rest, O Lord." After the epistle the _Dies Irae_ -was chanted in Grergorian melody, as the gradual. When choir and -congregation assembled after communion in the college quadrangle, there to -form themselves into a procession, one of the clergy repeated the prayer, -_Deus, qui nobis sub sacramento mirabili_, which is always chanted in -the Catholic church at the benediction of the blessed Sacrament. In the -procession, besides clerks, chanters, acolytes, and cross-bearer, appeared -the "sisters of the third order;" novices; "sisters of the second order" in -white veils edged with blue; "professed sisters;" the mother superior, -assistant mother, and mistress of novices of Dr. Neale's convent; superiors -of other orders; "brothers associate;" etc. The corpse "was vested in -cassock, surplice, and black stole; a crucifix was in his crossed hands, -the same one which he was in the habit of having before him when hearing -confessions." In an appendix to a virulent little treatise against -ritualism by the Rev. Robert Vaughan, D.D., [Footnote 8] there are -descriptions of services in several of the advanced churches; and the -author says: "This is the course of things in a large number of our city -and suburban churches over the kingdom; and not a few churches in our -smaller towns, and even in our villages, do their best, as before -intimated, toward imitating the example set them by their more fashionable -and wealthy neighbors. The editor of The Church Times filled some thirty -columns of that journal with such reports as we have cited, relating to the -celebrations of last Easter, and stated that the accounts he had published -were 'only a small selection from the overwhelming mass' which had reached -him," Proof enough that the movement, as we said before, is very widely -extended and essentially popular. - - [Footnote 8: Ritualism in the English Church in its Relation to - Scripture, Piety, and Law. By Robert Vaughan, D.D. 12mo. London: 1866.] - -Everybody remembers the commotion raised a year or two ago by an -enthusiastic gentleman named Lyne who called himself "Brother Ignatius," -and made a very foolish and unfortunate attempt to establish a Protestant -order of Benedictines in England. But other efforts to introduce religious -communities into the Church of England have been more prosperous, and there -are now at least 400 or 500 members of various sisterhoods, who take vows, -some for life, some for three years. [Footnote 9] - - [Footnote 9: Sisterhood have obtained a precarious footing in the - United States. There is one in New York, whose members wear a costume - suggested somewhat of the cloister and somewhat of the mantua-maker's - shop. They have neat little things, between caps and veils, on their - heads; make-believe rosaries hanging from their girdles; and black - bombazine gown's distended to fashionable dimensions by means of - hoop-skirts.] - -{58} - -In all cases there is a novitiate of one or two years, and it is said that -women who take the vows almost always adhere to them. Brotherhoods are not -at all flourishing, but there is a loud call for them among the ritualists, -and we see no reason to doubt that they will soon follow in the general -progress of the Catholic revival. Of the number of congregations in which -ritualistic practices are followed, we have no exact account; but a -disinterested authority in which we have confidence estimates the number of -the clergy who entertain the advanced views at about 2000. Among them are a -few of the bishops, the most prominent being Dr. Wilberforce, bishop of -Oxford, and Dr. Hamilton, bishop of Salisbury. Indeed, the rapid progress -of the new ideas seems to have thrown the thorough-going Protestants into a -fever of alarm. Courses of lectures are got up to counteract the growing -spirit, and monster petitions and memorials are presented to the bishops by -the clergy and people of their dioceses. A remonstrance with five hundred -signatures has been laid before the Bishop of Salisbury; a memorial with -two thousand and three hundred names has been presented to the Bishop of -Gloucester; and four hundred and twenty-three of the clergy of London have -united in a protest. Colored vestments are worn in twelve of the London -churches, incense is used in six, and colored stoles have been introduced -in three, which have not yet adopted the full "Eucharistic vestments." - -Not very long ago a grand exhibition of ecclesiastical ornaments and -vestments from churches of the establishment in various parts of the -kingdom was held at Norwich. Eucharistic (that is, colored) vestments were -contributed by a hundred churches, and it was estimated that there were two -hundred and fifty or three hundred other churches in which they were -habitually used. The number is probably now larger. Many of these vestments -were of extraordinary richness. There were silks and velvets covered with -delicate and elaborate embroideries, and bedecked with a literal profusion -of diamonds, pearls, and various precious stones. One chasuble, not -jeweled, was valued at £220, Or $1,100. There were crosiers, mitres, -stoles, and superb crimson copes--all in use at the present day--not to -speak of numerous relics of antiquity, even relics of the saints and the -twelve apostles, and a fragment of the true cross. - -The confessional in the Anglican Church is not an innovation by any means; -but under the protecting wings of ritualism it is assuming much greater -prominence than it has ever enjoyed before. In St. Alban's, New-York, you -will not find a confessional box; but you may make a confession there, if -you feel so disposed, and the reverend pastor is ready to absolve penitents -with the usual formularies. At St. Alban's in London, however, they do -things in a much more complete style, with a box and a grating, and all the -other Catholic accessories--with the trifling exceptions of sacerdotal -character and jurisdiction on the part of the confessor. An Anglican -minister of Protestant proclivities, named Ormiston, recently made an -experimental visit of investigation to the Rev. Mr. Mackonochie's -confessional at St. Alban's, and at a meeting of the National Protestants -Institute on the 28th of January last, was cruel enough to tell all that -happened there. He went on one of the days set apart for receiving the -confessions of men, took his turn with a number of others who were waiting, -and in course of time found himself in the confessional box, peering -through a hole at the Rev. Mr. Mackonochie, who was vested in a surplice -and purple stole. Mr. Ormiston stated that he wished to make a "special" -confession, and was thereupon requested to kneel. He could not bring -himself to do this, but he made believe do it--probably he squatted--and -then proceeded to his unbosoming. The Rev. Mr. Mackonochie must have been -rather unpleasantly amazed by what followed. -{59} -Pulling out a written paper Mr. Ormiston read, in a loud tone so as to be -heard by the people outside, this humble confession of sins: "I have but -too imperfectly discharged my solemn ordination vow of being ready with all -faithful diligence to banish and drive away all erroneous and strange -doctrines contrary to God's word,' and _especially the damnable doctrine -now maintained by those priests in the Church of England, commonly called -'Puseyites,' together with their popish practices_, whereby they are -seeking to dethrone the blessed gospel of God's free grace, and to set up -in its stead the 'burning lies' of anti-christ." He asked for absolution, -but Mr. Mackonochie could not be persuaded of his penitence (though the -sinner vowed that he never was more sorry in his life), and refused to give -it. So Mr. Ormiston handed his card to the confessor, and came away, "bowed -down and crushed," as he said, "with a sense of the evil which this awful -system is working." - -The question of the legality of the ritualistic innovations, or, to speak -more accurately, of these restorations of ancient practice, has been before -the law courts and the houses of convocation, but thus far without decided -result. The Church Union in England, have published the opinions of nine -eminent lawyers to whom the matter was referred, including Sir R. -Phillimore, Sir Fitzroy Kelly, Sir W. Bovill, and Mr. Coleridge, all of -whom are in favor of the legality of the "Eucharistic vestments," six in -favor of two lights on the altar during the communion service, four in -favor of wafer bread, and all more or less against the incensing of -"persons or things." A committee of the lower house of convocation made a -report on these subjects, which was presented to the upper house last June; -and in view of the position taken by the authors of this report, and of the -legal opinions above referred to, as well as the opposition of Dr. Tait, -bishop of London, to the practices therein condemned, the rector of St. -Alban's, Holborn, has felt himself compelled to discontinue, under protest, -the objectionable manner of using incense, and the elevation of the bread -and wine at the consecration. In an address to his congregation on the -feast of the Epiphany, be declares his persuasion that the house of -convocation is wrong, but he thinks it better to yield. "I must tell you," -he adds, "for your own satisfaction, that the less obtrusive elevation -indicated in the words of the prayer-book, 'here the priest is to take the -paten into his hand,' and 'here he is to take the cup into his hand,' is -quite sufficient for the ritual purpose, that, namely, of making the -oblation of the holy sacrifice to God. The use of incense will now be -discontinued at the beginning of the service, at the gospel, and at the -offertory. Before the consecration prayer the censer will be brought in. At -the consecration, incense will be put into it by the thurifer, but it will -not be used, as at present, 'for censing persons and things.' This is a -mode of using incense allowed by the ecclesiastical opinion, and not -disallowed by the legal one." - -Some time ago a number of prominent clergymen and laymen of the American -Episcopal Church, addressed a letter to Bishop Hopkins of Vermont, asking -his opinion "whether an increase of ritualism would be advisable," or -whether it was best to be satisfied with "the ordinary average of present -parochial practice"? The reply of Bishop Hopkins is contained in a little -volume published last year.[Footnote 10] It is an elaborate defence of the -lawfulness and reasonableness of the ritualistic practices, though it -deprecates any authoritative infringement on the liberty which the -Episcopal body has heretofore exercised in such matters. -{60} -"I incline to regard it as most probable," the bishop says, "that this -ritualism will grow into favor by degrees until it becomes the prevailing -system. The old, the fixed, and the fearful, will resist it. But the young, -the ardent, and the impressible will follow it more and more. The spirit of -the age will favor it because it is an age of excitement and sensation. The -lovers of 'glory and of beauty' will favor it, because it appeals with far -more effect to the natural tastes and feelings of humanity. The rising -generation of the clergy will favor it, because it adds so much to the -solemn character of their office and the interest of their service in the -house of God." And as for the effect of the movement upon the low -churchmen, he believes that it will only become a more marked distinction -between parties which have long existed, and which might well be allowed to -appear in a more decided form without danger to the peace and prosperity of -the denomination. - - [Footnote 10: The Law of Ritualism. By the Rt. Rev. John Henry Hopkins, - D.D., LL. D., Bishop of Vermont. New York: Hurd & Houghton.] - -As might be supposed, Bishop Hopkins says a great many sensible things -about ritualism in general, though their application to the particular case -before him is not always of the clearest. The ceremonial part of divine -worship is not, he declares, a matter of indifference. God gave the most -explicit instructions for the performance of public worship under the -Levitical law. He described the tabernacle that was to be erected in the -wilderness and the temple of Solomon which succeeded it, giving minute -directions for the fashioning of all their parts; for the incense, the -golden censers, the candlesticks, and the rich priestly vestments that were -to be used when the descendants of Aaron approached his presence. And under -the new dispensation this beautiful and elaborate system, so often -pronounced by Almighty God "an ordinance for ever," was not swept wholly -out of existence, though certain parts of it passed away into a higher and -more extensive form of divine arrangement. The animal sacrifices ceased, -because they were only types of the great sacrifice which the cross of -Christ fulfilled. The restriction of the priesthood to the family of Aaron -was abolished, because the new covenant was not restricted to a single -nation, like the old, but was made with all the peoples of the earth. The -rest of the Mosaic law, Dr. Hopkins argues, remained in force. His argument -is not a good one, for it would lead him to absurdities. If the old ritual -was not abolished, why do modern Christians not observe it? What authority -have they for omitting all the more onerous parts of the ceremonial, and -retaining only the rich garments and lights and fragrant incense, which -please the senses without imposing any particular burden? If ritualism had -no better argument in its favor than the book of Leviticus, there would be -little to say in its defence. Dr. Vaughan, who reasons that ritualism is -unlawful in the Christian church, because there is no book of rites in the -New Testament corresponding to the book of Leviticus in the old, is as -logical as Dr. Hopkins. The Bishop of Vermont, however, is apparently -sensible that there must be some authoritative enactment on the subject; -that God, either by his church or by some other inspired mouthpiece, must -have abolished or modified the Jewish ritual, and substituted a new one, or -else we ought still to observe the full Mosaic ceremonial, on the principle -that laws are binding until they are repealed. To us, Catholics, the case -is clear enough. We have the authority of the church of God for all we do; -she abolished the old Jewish rites, and she ordained the Christian -ceremonial. And Dr. Hopkins is sensible enough of the importance of this -authorization, for he tries to apply it to his own denomination, and -thereby, of course, admits that the church has uniformly followed the -rightful practice, and that the Protestant sects have been all wrong. -{61} -He shows, from the writings of the early fathers and from other ancient -documents, that the term "altar" was constantly used in primitive times in -connection with the celebration of divine services; that the altars were -both of wood and or stone, and that hence there is no reason for the -restriction which many Protestants would lay upon the Lord's Table; that it -should be "an honest table, with legs to it;" and that candles and incense -were habitually used at the celebration of the divine mysteries. A much -more important matter, Bishop Hopkins says, is the use of oil or chrism in -confirmation; and this, he admits, "is plainly stated by Tertullian to have -been the established practice in the year 200." And he quotes a remarkable -passage from Bingham's" Antiquities of the Christian Church" (a Protestant -work), to the effect that "it was this unction at the completion of baptism -to which they [the early Christians] ascribed the power of making every -Christian, in some sense, partaker of a royal priesthood, which is not only -said by Origen, but by Pope Leo, St. Jerome, and many others." His remarks -on the subject of sacerdotal vestments are not less striking. He mentions -the proofs brought forward by Baronius, that St. James the Just, first -bishop of Jerusalem, and St. John the Evangelist "wore the golden ornament -which was prescribed for the mitre of the high priest in the Mosaic -ritual." He refers to Constantine's gift of "a rich vestment, embroidered -with gold," to Macarius, bishop of Jerusalem, to be worn by him in the -celebration of the sacred offices. He cites ancient decrees concerning the -_orarium_, or stole, and the different manner in which it was to be -worn by priests and by deacons; mentions the ring and staff prescribed for -a bishop; and especially refers to the fact that black, as the symbol of -sin and mourning, was everywhere excluded. Bishop Hopkins brings forward -these things by way of showing the multitude of points of conformity -between the early Christian and the ancient Jewish ritual; but they do not -seem to have awakened in his mind the question, "Which, then, is the true -Christian church?" nor does he perceive that, however strongly they may -support the Catholic practice, they do little good to the Episcopalians. -The first Church of England men understood the propriety of ritualistic -magnificence a great deal better than their descendants do. When they cast -off faith and obedience they did not at the same time cast off the rich -priestly robes, nor put out the altar lights, nor stop the swinging of -censers and chanting of psalms. The ritual of the primitive Protestants was -hardly less gorgeous than that of mother church herself. When Archbishop -Parker was consecrated in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, he wore "a long -scarlet gown and a hood, with four torches carried before him: Bishop -Barlow had a silk cope, being to administer the sacrament; four -arch-deacons, who attended him, wearing silk copes also." And a puritanical -Protestant, Thomas Sampson, complained to Peter Martyr in 1550 that the -ministry of Christ was banished from the English court, because the image -of the crucifix was allowed there, with lights burning before it. Dr. -Hopkins is at pains to show that the custom and unrepealed law of the -Church of England justify the use of a processional cross, two lights on -the altar, incense, surplice, alb, girdle, stole, dalmatic, tunicle, -chasuble, cope, amice, cape or tippet, maniple, hood, and cassock; that the -use of oil in confirmation and extreme unction, and of _prayers for the -dead_, which are found in the first Prayer-book of Edward VI., though -they were subsequently omitted from the liturgy, has never been prohibited -and is still lawful. We suspect that to many Protestants this statement -will be a little startling. - -It will not be more startling, however, than a view of what the liturgy of -the Church of England was in the first years of her heresy, and what, -according to the ritualistic party, it ought rightly to be now. -{62} -It seems to be generally admitted that what is known as the first -Prayer-book of Edward VI., published in 1549, is the standard to which the -ceremonial of the Establishment ought to be referred; that whatever was -sanctioned or permitted under the rubrics of that work may be lawfully used -or done now; and that the subsequent revisions of the Prayer-book, inasmuch -as they have authoritatively condemned none of the ancient forms and -expressions of doctrine embodied in that earlier ritual, have no -restrictive force upon the liberty of the modern revivers of old Catholic -practices. Let us see, then, what the first Prayer-book of Edward. VI. was, -in its order of the communion service, the present battle-ground of -ritualism. - -This portion of the liturgy was entitled, "The Supper of the Lord and the -Holy Communion, commonly called the Mass." It is divided into "the -Ordinary," and "the Canon." The first part begins with the Lord's Prayer; -and then follow the Collect for purity, the Introit (now omitted), the -_Kyrie Eleison_, the _Gloria in Excelsis, Dominus Vobiscum_, -Collects for the day and for the king, the Epistle, Gospel, and Nicene -Creed, the sermon, Exhortation, Offertory, and Oblation; _Dominus -Vobiscum, Sursum Corda_, the Preface, and the _Sanctus_. The canon -now consists of one long prayer of consecration, but in the Prayer-book of -1549 it comprised many other parts copied pretty closely from the missal; -and the confession and absolution, which are now transferred to an early -part of the ordinary, came in their proper place immediately before the -communion. After communion were the _Agnus Dei_ and Post-Communion, -the Collects, and other prayers and ceremonies, very much as we have them -in the mass. The rubric of 1549 says: "When the clerks have done singing -the _Sanctus_, then shall the priest or deacon turn himself to the -people and say, 'Let us pray for the whole state of Christ's church;'" to -which the present office adds the words, "militant here on earth." An able -paper in a collection of essays by advanced ritualists, published in London -last year, [Footnote 11] argues from this that prayers for the dead -formerly had place and are still allowable in the English liturgy. If this -be not so, the author says, "we shall find ourselves placed in a dilemma -which to a Catholic mind is inexpressibly painful. For.... it follows that -the liturgy of the English Church is the only living liturgy, the only -known extant liturgy which is wanting in remembrance of its faithful -departed. From which dilemma we may devoutly say, Good Lord, deliver us." - - [Footnote 11: The Church and the World: Essays on Questions of the Day. - By various writers. First series. Edited by the Rev. Orby Shipley, M. - A. Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyre. 1866.] - -In the consecration prayers there is an important part found in the book Of -1549, but now left out, of which the same writer says: "We can scarcely too -deeply deplore the loss, or earnestly desire that it may be restored to -us." This is the invocation of the Holy Ghost, and it reads as follows: -"Hear us, O merciful Father, we beseech thee, and with thy holy spirit and -word vouchsafe to bl+ess and sanc+tify these thy gifts and creatures of -bread and wine, that they may be to us the body and blood of thy most -dearly beloved son Jesus Christ." Here we have not only an authorization -but an explicit direction for the use of the sign of the cross, at which -many good Episcopalians shudder nervously as at a diabolical popish -invention. It was left out of the later Prayer-books, but never prohibited. - -Before the communion there is a formula of invitation which the minister is -to read to the people, bidding them to the Lord's table. In the present -Prayer-book it contains nothing which calls for special remark; but in that -of 1549 it embraced the following passage: "And if there be any of you -whose conscience is troubled and grieved in anything, lacking comfort or -counsel, let him come to me, or to some other discreet and learned priest, -taught in the law of God, and confess and open his sin and grief secretly -.... _that of us he may receive comfort and absolution_," etc. - -{63} - -The writer of the essay above quoted favors not only a return to the old -Edwardian liturgy, but a revival of various other usages to which we need -not more particularly refer than by saying that they all have a genuine -Catholic flavor. He sees no reason, apart from prejudice, why Anglicans -should not call their communion service by "the old English word 'Mass;" -and he deprecates the Protestant custom of consuming at once all the bread -and wine which are blessed for the Lord's Supper, without reserving any for -the visitation of the sick. "Those who minister among the lowest poor in -missionary work," he says, "can bear witness how distressing oftentimes are -celebrations in the crowded and sick rooms of a town population." And he -quotes an instance in which the Eucharist had to be consecrated for a dying -man who occupied one corner of a crowded room tenanted by several other -families. In another corner crouched a woman of the vilest class, and -during the consecration unclean insects were crawling over the "fair white -linen cloth" upon which the elements were laid. Can we wonder that to a -minister who believes in the Real Presence, and in his own power to -consecrate, a celebration such as this must seem like profanation? - -If there were nothing in this ritualistic revival but an attempt to borrow -the rich robes of faith and dress up in them the shrunken form of heresy, -it would hardly be worth our attention. It is little to us whether the -human laws of the realm of England permit the ministers of the Established -Church to stand with their backs to the congregation or not; whether they -may legally burn candles in daylight, or swing censers, or chant their -prayers instead of saying them, or wear colored and embroidered vestments -instead of the plain surplice and the black gown. Since they have taken the -liberty to discard faith and obedience, one would think it of little matter -that they should discard ceremonies also. After they have lost the -substance, why should they care for the form? If they could abolish, for -instance, the celibacy of the clergy, they had surely as good a right to -abolish a red or green chasuble. Indeed, to be logical, they ought to -ordain, alter, and abolish just what they please. But it is impossible not -to see that there is a great deal more in this movement than a mere -striving after beautiful and impressive forms. There is first a reawakening -of the Catholic idea of public worship, and a rejection of the common -Protestant theory. It is the Protestant principle, not always expressly -acknowledged, but practically acted upon, that the primary object of a -religious service is the edification of the people; it is the Catholic idea -that the chief purpose of that service is the worship of Almighty God. The -Englishman, Thomas Sampson, whose complaint to Peter Martyr touching lights -and crucifixes, we quoted just now, says in the same letter: "What hope is -there of any good when our friends are disposed to look for religion in -those dumb remnants of idolatry, and not in the _preaching_ of the -lively word of God?" And what is it but a recognition of this principle -which causes most of the Protestant sects to lay such stress upon sermons -as to make them the predominating feature of every service, and often gives -their public prayers such a doctrinal and exhortatory character that they -can hardly be distinguished from sermons except by the substitution of the -phrase "Almighty God" for "Beloved brethren"? Now, the ritualists, whatever -their shortcomings, are at any rate free from this absurdity. -Sermon-hearing or meditation, says one of their late writers, may be -salutary enough in its proper time and place, but it is not worship. Here, -no doubt, is a great advance in the right direction. -But this is not all. -{64} -An essay "On the Eucharistic Sacrifice" in The Church and the World gives -the Catholic doctrine still more explicitly, and acknowledges "that -Christian worship is really the earthly exhibition of Christ's perpetual -intercession as the sole high priest of his church, the sole acceptable -presenter of the one worship of his one body in heaven and in earth, and -that as such it culminates in his own mysterious presence, in and by the -sacrament of his most precious body and blood." - -In this recognition of the true functions of the Christian ministry, the -true character of the worship which ought to be offered in God's holy -temple, we may suppose the ritualists to be pretty well agreed. But -doctrinally, they may be divided into two classes. With the one class, a -gorgeous ritual is merely the gratification of an aesthetic or antiquarian -taste; with the other it is the logical development of an advance in -doctrine. The one class would bring back the practice of the Anglican -Church to what it used to be in old days; the other would imitate the rites -and ceremonies which were followed in the Catholic Church ages before -Anglicanism was heard of. - -The second class is, we believe, the more numerous, as it certainly is by -far the more important of the two. Its views are set forth with frankness -and decided ability in the volume which we have already quoted; and we are -certain that no one can read these essays without feeling that the -ritualists are legitimate successors of the tractarians of thirty years -ago, and that there is promise of as much good from the agitation which -they are leading as came from the great movement of Dr. Newman and Dr. -Pusey. "Ritualism," says one of the essayists, "is not employed as a -side-wind, by which to bring in certain tenets surreptitiously, but as the -natural complement of those tenets after they have been long and sedulously -inculcated." The burning of candles and incense is of very little moment, -considered as a mere form, but it is of great moment when it is done as the -ritualists do it for the sake of rendering honor to the real presence of -our Lord. It is of no consequence what order of words or what gestures or -what dress the Anglican minister uses in reading the communion office, -because he has not the priestly character, and if he followed literally the -missal itself, he could not celebrate a valid mass. But if he comes as -close to the missal as he can, by way of testifying that he believes in the -doctrines stated and symbolized in the missal; if he imitates the -ceremonies of the daily Christian sacrifice, in order to show his belief in -the sacrificial character of the Eucharist, that fact becomes of serious -importance, and indicates a genuine progress toward truth, at which every -good Catholic ought to rejoice. The practice of auricular confession is not -new in the Anglican Church; but it acquires additional significance when it -is spoken of, as it is in the Church and the Word, by the name of "the -sacrament of penance," for the Church of England recognizes no sacraments -except baptism and the supper of the Lord. - -If there is any name which a genuine ritualist really hates it is that of -Protestant. The avowed purpose of the advanced school is to unprotestantize -the Church of England; and the writer just quoted speaks of having found -comfort at a time of spiritual doubt and trial, in the belief that the -English Church was still a part of the Catholic Church, "unless she sinned -sufficiently at the reformation to justify Rome in cutting her off." "Our -place is appointed us," says the same essayist, "among Protestants and in a -communion deeply tainted in its practical system by Protestant heresy; but -our duty is the expulsion of the evil, and not flight from it, any more -than it is a duty for those to leave the Roman Church who become conscious -also of abuses within her system." The Church of England indeed, has but a -weak hold upon the faith or affection of the ritualists of this school. -{65} -We find the XXXIX. Articles spoken of as "those Protestant articles -tacked on to a Catholic liturgy, those forty stripes save one, as some have -called them, - -laid on the back of the Anglican priesthood;" and in the same book we are -told that "the universal church, and not the Church of England, is becoming -the standard to which doctrine and practice must be conformed, and the -advantages in many respects of other divisions of it over our own are -becoming recognized." Prepared as many of these men are to accept the -doctrines of the church in every particular except the supremacy of the -Pope and the immaculate conception of the blessed Virgin, and to follow her -discipline even to clerical celibacy, religious vows, and sacramental -confession, can we doubt that there is hope of their overcoming the -remaining obstacles to their conversion, and that the London Weekly -Register is right when it calls this "the most important religious crisis -that England has witnessed since the so-called Reformation." - -And even in the vagaries of the other branch of ritualists, the church -milliners, if we may be allowed the expression, who imagine they are -bringing back their errant sect to the honest life of old, when they copy -the forms and ceremonies, the lights and vestures, the incense and the -chants of the primitive liturgy, without conforming to the doctrines which -these observances are intended to symbolize; who set up as their standard -of conformity not the universal church as she has been through all ages, -but the Anglican establishment as it was in its infancy, before it had -quite forgotten Catholic truth and propriety; even in the hollow ritualism -of this school, we say, there is cause for gratification. Unlike the -builders of material temples, who must work up from base to summit, these -ecclesiastical architects can sometimes construct their foundation after -the superstructure is finished. The mere copying of sacred forms is apt to -lead them to the sacred faith and spirit; and, any way, it is something -gained to know that one can bend before a crucifix without breaking the -commandments, and that frankincense is not an abomination in the sight of -the Lord. - ------- - - Original. - - The Cross. - - - O Tree, how strong thy branches are, - To bear such wondrous, weighty fruit! - "_He_ strength imparts." - - Than all, thy fruit is sweeter far. - What genial soil doth feed thy root? - "Men's loving hearts." - ------- - -{66} - - Translated from the French. - - - Robert; Or, The Influence Of A Good Mother. - - Chapter VII. - - "To be an artist . . . . - It is his hope, his faith, his ambition." - - -Genius, however great, will not make a man famous unless he works for fame. -Robert felt this and had strength, perseverance, and courage to labor, for -he was poor and of obscure name, and he knew what he could do, and was -determined to do it. But, like all who struggle through this life, he had -his depressions and his griefs, which he bore bravely; and if -discouragement ever glided into his soul, he instantly resorted to prayer, -and peace and repose would then spread their wings over him. He imposed -upon himself the strict obligation of never wasting a moment of time, and -chained himself to his work, as a galley slave is chained; accepting his -present life, mercenary and prosaic as it is, with perfect resignation and -happiness, feeling that God has made it thus, and that he must be thankful -for it. Existence was a happiness to him, for his heart was good, and duty -was to him perfect joy; and knowing he was necessary to the happiness of -Madame Gaudin, he devoted himself to her as a son. By degrees her strength -returned, and at last she was able to resume the management of the -household, which placed more time at Robert's disposition, and his mind, -rid of these cares, regains its elasticity and primitive vigor. Artistic -reveries come back, the fire of creative inspiration fills his soul, and he -stands before his canvas, on which the faint outlines of the Virgin are -traced. Then another dream seizes him, and hours and days and weeks of -patient labor are necessary to faithfully bring out his ideas, and at first -all is chaos; but slowly the canvas becomes animated, and finally Robert, -like Pygmalion, stands in ecstasy before his work. His body trembles with -enthusiasm, his eyes moisten, his knees give way under him--and why this -emotion? He has faithfully presented the scene where, between God and his -mother, his happy childhood was passed. The picture is astonishingly and -wonderfully true. Here stands out boldly the savage grandeur of Ecorcharde, -with its rugged sides and deep ravines--there the valley through which the -silver waters of the Dordogne run--the village of Bains--the church spire, -the rectory--and all the crowning glory of this mountain, its woods and -sombre verdure. There the little house where Robert had lived for twelve -years, and, at the extremity of the valley, the peak of Sauci, which -majestically crowned the whole. The memory of the young artist is faithful, -and he forgets nothing. Standing on a clearing on the mountain side is a -woman, and a child is playing near her; it is Robert and his mother. The -sun is just sinking below the horizon, and sheds upon the scene the glory -of its waves of gold and purple. Each day Robert gave many hours to this -picture, in which he relived his childhood's days; and, when completed, it -was a perfect masterpiece of grace and taste, and finished with much care. -His touch was fresh and bold--the animals that reposed in the valley were -perfect, the trees of exquisite foliage, and the lights and shades of -delicious harmony. - -One morning the young painter was at work, bringing out a stronger effect -of light on his picture, when a loud knock at the door drew him from his -work. He opened it, and standing before him was his late master. - -{67} - -"Where have you been, my dear Robert?" asked the illustrious artist; "I -have been so uneasy about you. Tell me why you have not been in my studio -for so long a time?" - -Robert, touched by this mark of interest, given with so much affability and -simplicity, replied by a recital of the painful position in which he had -been thrown by the sickness of Madame Gaudin, and told in such warm terms -of her generous conduct to him, that the artist did not know which to -admire most--the lively gratitude of the one, or beautiful devotion of the -other. - -The artist grasped his hand, and, pressing it warmly, said, "You have done -your duty, and can never reproach yourself with ingratitude." Then, turning -toward the picture, he explained, "Can this be your work? It is wonderful?" -After a few moments, in which he was perfectly absorbed, he said, "Robert, -you are ignorant of your talent; you know more than I do, and must be a -great painter ere long." Then, clasping the stupefied young man in his -arms, be pressed him to his heart in a generous transport of admiration. - -Madame Gaudin, who had gone out to buy provisions for the day, stopped at -the open door to ask what it could all mean; and when she understood what -they were speaking about, she felt a great joy, and exclaimed, "I knew it; -I knew he would be a great painter." Her excess of happiness made her steps -a little trembling and uncertain; and, without caring for the presence of -the stranger, she said to Robert, "God will bless thee, my boy; God will -recompense thy Christian virtues, and all the affection thou hast had for a -poor old woman like me." Then, noticing the artist, she said, "I cannot -help it; excuse me, sir, but I must embrace him, I must press him to my -heart, and then I will be content." - -Robert yielded to her caresses in a manner which attested better than words -the sincerity of his attachment for the worthy woman. - -The approbation and praises given his work by his master made a profound -impression on the mind of Robert. - -"My dear boy," said the artist, "I will buy your picture at a good price. -Each one of us should aid others to find the road on which he has gathered -the flowers of fortune. God has blessed my work and made me rich, but I -cannot enjoy the favors of fortune alone; I must aid others, and share with -them the riches that God has loaned me. My purse, my credit, my protection -are yours to-day, and I want you to use them without hesitation, for I -cherish you as a pupil and love you as a friend. When I pay the debt of -life, I hope to endow a great painter. Work, then, my boy; work for glory; -you are now on the road to fame, and it will lead you to fortune." Before -leaving he put in Madame Gaudin's hand a well-filled purse, and said, "Keep -silence; say nothing of this to Robert." - -Robert had another joy on this eventful day. Toward night he was going on -an errand for Madame Gaudin, and near the Pont Neuf, by the Place Dauphine, -he heard the voice of a man uttering a kind of lament for Napoleon. The -voice was loud and strong, and in its modulations there was so much sorrow -that he hastened toward the man, to see if his features verified a -suspicion that came across his mind. He knew he had seen this man before. -He was a street singer; and the longer he listened to him, the more -convinced was he in his belief. Soon his eyes were fixed on a large wound -in his forehead, and, no longer doubting, he called out, "O Cyprien! my -good Cyprien!" at the same time holding out his hand. - -"Pardon--excuse me--I do not know you." - -"But are you not Cyprien Hardy, ex-grenadier of the Imperial Guards?" said -Robert. - -"I am no other person; but I can't remember to have seen you before." - -{68} - -"I remember you," said Robert, with expression. "The little orphan that you -took before the palace at Fontainebleau and conducted to Paris, although -eight years ago, has not forgotten his protector and friend, and now wishes -to shake hands with him; you will not refuse me that pleasure surely?" - -"Ah! truly no--a thousand times no--I cannot refuse. Touched there," said -he, putting his hand on his heart, "I know it is Robert who speaks to me; -my little Robert, grown to be a man. You have changed much, young man, and -so have I; but that does not matter; I have suffered cruelly. Oh my loved -emperor! if I could only go to him." - -"Come with me," said Robert; "we can talk entirely as we please when alone; -come with me and I will take you to a person who knows you already, and -who, I am certain beforehand, will be glad to see you." - -The idle and curious people who were standing by when this touching -recognition took place all walked off and left the place clear to our -friends. - -"A thousand thunders, Mister Robert, you are no prouder now in Paris than -when we came in together, but you walk too fast for my old legs." - -"Pardon me, Cyprien," said he, stopping quickly, "but I am so anxious to -get you home that I forget you may be fatigued and may need my arm. Take -it, my friend, for it is sure, like my affection for you; take it and we -can walk faster. I am afraid Madame Gaudin will be uneasy if I stay out so -long, and I do not like to give her the least uneasiness." - -"Oh!" said the soldier, stretching up, for he was bent more by grief than -years, "you are a worthy young man, and not proud at all. You do not blush -to give your arm to a brigand of the Loire; for that is what we poor -soldiers who regret our emperor are called. But tell me, who is this Madame -Gaudin--what in the deuce do you call her?" - -"Gaudin, my good Cyprien." - -"Gaudin! Oh! well, I suppose she is some particular person, is she?" - -"She is a good and excellent woman, to whom I owe all that I am, and who -has made every sacrifice for me, and whom I love with all my heart." - -"Ah! I understand; it is a widow that wants to catch you?" - -"Oh! no, my good Cyprien," said Robert, laughing; "it is a person that you -know, the old housekeeper of the lamented Abbé Verneuil. You know the -priest who gave me so sweet a welcome when I arrived in Paris, and who -placed me at the house of Madame de Vernanges?" - -"Yes, yes; it comes back to my memory now, and I took a bitter hatred -against her the day I pulled the door bell at the curé's. She looked at me -with a pair of eyes that shone like balls of fire, because I twisted my -mustache when I spoke to her. Well, what has become of the priest?" - -"Alas! he is dead, and much too soon for me. Oh! it was one of my dark -days, Cyprien." - -"The same as mine for my emperor. I weep for him as you weep for the curé." - -"We have good reason, my friend, to remember such men, and to forget them -would be to forget ourselves." - -"So you tell me, old Gaudin is living with you?" - -"No, no; I should have told you I lived with the dear, good woman; for -since the death of the abbé this generous woman has provided for all my -wants, spent for me her hard savings, and in every way tried to console me -for what I had lost. Yes, my friend, this good Madame Gaudin pushed forward -my taste for drawing and painting; and I thank her from the depths of my -heart, and can say without vanity that these sacrifices have not been lost. -I am rejoiced that I can give her some happiness, and it may be that in the -turning of the wheel of fortune I may gain wealth, and all that I have and -all that I may ever have shall be hers, for she has done everything for -me." - -{69} - -"Certainly," said Cyprien, "and I embrace the good woman with my heart," -mounting slowly as he said it, the four steps that led to their house. -Robert had gone in ahead of him and returned with Madame Gaudin, who -received the old soldier kindly, and feasted him as a friend, making his -lonely and bruised heart feel happier than it had for a long time. After -supper Robert asked him to tell them all that had happened him since they -last met. - -"There is but one subject for me, my dear Robert," said he, "and that is my -emperor. I have so much joy and so much sorrow when I pronounce this -cherished name; I am so moved when I recall the days when fortune abandoned -him, that it is almost better for me not to revert to the subject; but, -since you wish it, I will commence. When we had seen the last of the Little -Corporal, and I found I could do nothing more for him, I commenced singing -his praises through the streets, even at the risk of being imprisoned; and -now he is dead," said he, with a melancholy air--"died on that lonely rock -where he was held a captive, and the only hope I have left is in heaven." - -He looked so tired now that Robert made him go to bed, and before he was up -in the morning ran out and brought him suitable clothes, so that when he -awakened he found new ones instead of the rags he had laid on his bed. "I -want Cyprien to stay with me," said Robert, "for he has been a faithful -soldier, and I am young, and can work for us both;" but it was a difficult -matter to get his consent for this arrangement, and he had to tell him many -times that he would be so useful to him, and that he really needed him -before he would accept the offer. Finally he agreed to become an inmate of -the modest household. He mixed colors for the young painter, rendered -little services to Madame Gaudin, who did all she could to aid Robert to -make him happy. From this time God seemed to open to him the treasures of -the choicest favors, and to spread them in profusion on the head of the -young painter. Warmly recommended to the world by the great artist who had -been his master, esteemed for his excellent conduct, and justly appreciated -for his talent, which was now burning in all its lustre, he could look -forward to a happy future. His mother's prediction was being gradually -accomplished, and this aided him. Whenever he sat down to composing, he -first implored the assistance of God, with the firm belief that it would -not be refused; and it was not, for the blessed Lord crowns with benefits -those who serve him with love. Nothing gives courage like the certainty of -success; and, full of an indefatigable ardor for his art, he worked hard, -disdaining the vain pleasures of the world, and his labor was recompensed. -As he advanced in age, the love of his art consumed him the more, and in -place of the wild enthusiasm he felt at first he was filled with a deep and -serious sentiment, and wanted to study the old masters under the bright sky -of Italy. The only drawback he had ever had to his dreams of studying there -was the thought of leaving Madame Gaudin alone; but now that Cyprien was -with her, he would keep her company during his absence. He was too firmly -convinced of the old man's affection to doubt for a moment that he would -fail to fulfill any instructions he might give him; but before leaving -France he wished to visit his native mountain, and pray on the grave of his -mother. He was now twenty-one years of age, and had not forgotten the -package he was to receive when he attained his majority, and which he felt -sure contained some instructions from his well-beloved mother, which it -would he a pleasure for him to obey. After quieting his fears about Cyprien -and poor Madame Gaudin, he wiped away the tears of the good woman, embraced -her tenderly, and, after receiving Cyprien's promise to take good care of -the charge confided to his friendship, Robert set out for l'Auvergne. - -{70} - - Chapter VIII. - - * * * * * * - - "She sleeps--all is silent now, - No more heart-beats." - - -The most touching and beautiful affection in the world is that for parents, -for their homes, and their graves. A child who reveres his mother's memory -will keep his name free from blemish; for a good name is a precious -heritage, and the remembrance of virtues in either father or mother will -shield against bad actions like an impenetrable buckler. But, alas! a -veneration for the names of our fathers is no longer in honor among men. -Family homesteads are ruthlessly destroyed by those who forget that every -stone is sacred to some tender memory; and it seems now that cool -indifference has replaced that sweet affection which of old united parents -and children. How common a thing it is in the present day to see children -disrespectful to those who have given them birth; and to what can this -perversion of heart, which chills all natural feelings, be attributed but a -want of religious training, that sanctifying, purifying power which is -based upon God's holy will and divine commandments; and faith, hope, and -charity, the celestial virtues which ought to fill all hearts? - -With Robert, advancing years had not weakened in his soul the tender -veneration be avowed for the memory of his mother and her virtues. It was -to the principles she had instilled into his mind that he was indebted for -his present prosperity and happiness, for, though genius is the inestimable -gift of God, it needs guidance and consecration; and all the pious -sentiments which were afterward developed in his soul were from the seeds -sown by that angel mother. - -Robert took the road to Clermont, and could have flown the entire distance, -so eager was he to get to his old home. And again and again doubts would -fill his mind as to whether he would find the loved grave; whether pitiless -time would not in nine years, have effaced the letters which traced the -name of his mother? Clermont at last appeared in the distance, then the -village of Bains, and then he was at the door of the rectory, standing with -a beating heart to see a loved face, but the door is opened by a strange -priest, from whom he learns that the venerable curé whom he sought was -dead, but in dying he left instructions to his successor; begging that -Madame Dormeuil's grave should not be neglected, which gave Robert but -another proof of his imperishable love. After obeying the first wish of his -heart and visiting his mother's grave, he obtained the papers which -concerned him, and, opening them with emotion, read as follows: - - "My dear son: I did not wish you to know the contents of these papers - until you were twenty-one, because it seemed to me that before this time - you would hardly comprehend them, and I thought it best to wait until you - had experience and maturity of judgment. You know we are rarely willing - to take the experience of others for our instruction; believing that what - shipwrecked them we would have been wise enough to have avoided; that we - would have acted better, reasoned better, than those who have preceded us - on the perilous sea called the world. The blind lead the blind, and when - we fall we are astonished. It is so with all men. Being feeble, they - think they are strong; being dependent, they think they are free; being - powerless, they think they are creatures of genius. But thou, my dear - child, wilt have more strength than those who repose in themselves the - care of their conduct, and do not invoke God to light them with his - divine rays. In the moment of trial they fall; it happened so to me, my - son, when I took my own feeble reason for my guide. But, though I have no - grave faults to reproach myself for, it is not the less true that I have - compromised thy future, and forgotten my duties as a wife and my duties - as a Christian, for I have not been indulgent and forgetful of injuries. -{71} - To-day, by God's grace, I am calm. I judge myself more severely then he - will judge me, and I feel guilty and cannot excuse myself to thy eyes, by - my youth, inexperience, and the isolation in which I found myself, when I - claimed the right of breaking the links which I ought to have respected - for my son. But it was my fault, and I will have the courage to tell you - all--to confess all my sins, and then ask for pardon. Dormeuil is not thy - name, my child; it is mine, the name of my father, a plebeian name, but - without blemish. Thy name is De Verceil, and thy father is the Count - Sosthène de Verceil. At ten years of age, I lost my father; my mother - died in giving me birth, and I was left to the charge of an aunt who was - my only relative. This worthy woman was not rich, but an annuity left her - by her husband and the revenue from some savings placed her above want, - and her kind heart pitied my orphanage, and she shared everything with - me. I owe to her five years of happiness, and oh! that it were more; her - counsels and her tenderness would have spared me the regrets I feel at - this hour. She had placed me in a school of great renown, wishing, she - said, to leave me, in lieu of fortune, a good education. Notwithstanding - my plebeian name I had a crowd of friends of rich and noble heritage, for - youth never thinks of the differences in rank or the prerogatives of - birth; and it was thus that I became the friend of an amiable young girl, - Helena de Verceil. Her brother came to see her often, and, as we were - inseparable, I was generally present at these visits. I was a simple and - candid girl, and these traits made a profound impression on the young - count, and when I left the school some months after Helena I continued to - see him from time to time, at his sister's house, for she was married - immediately after leaving school. Young, ardent, impetuous, and unused to - any resistance, the count fell easily into the snare which was held out - to his inexperience by an irresistible tenderness. His passion, far from - calming, grew stronger each day, and he resolved to overcome all - obstacles and ask to marry me, although his age and his tastes were far - from this grave determination. With his fortune and hand, he came to beg - my aunt's consent, and to pray that she would not defer his happiness. - Overwhelmed with joy at so brilliant and advantageous an offer for her - niece, she gave her consent, for in all her dreams for the daughter of - her cherished brother she had never caressed so sweet an illusion as - this. She accepted it with the more gratitude as she knew she had a - mortal malady which would soon leave me alone, in the midst of the - manifold dangers that assail youth. In taking for his wife an obscure and - poor girl the count was alienated from all his family, and his proud and - noble parents would not pardon this unworthy _mesalliance_. He - could, they said, have married a woman of rank and wealth, but this - unprofitable union to the eyes of people blinded by their titles, - whatever may have been the qualities of heart, was nothing and worse than - nothing. He could obtain no favor from them, after putting so dark a spot - on their escutcheon. These humiliations and insults would have had no - effect upon me, could I have been consoled by the tender affection of my - aunt, who saw but too late that wealth does not give happiness; and in - less than two years after my marriage I was called to mourn her loss. The - love of the count was soon extinguished, and men are very apt to be - ungrateful and cruel when they cease to love. His conduct soon proved - that he had only formed for me an ephemeral attachment, but I loved him - above everything, and with all the energy of my soul; and this love - increased when I became a mother, and I dared to believe that this title - imposed by nature, and so dear to most men, would touch the heart of my - husband, but the paternal sentiment could not triumph over the aversion - the count felt for her whom, in a moment of insensate passion, he had - taken for his wife. -{72} - For one moment a ray of joy burned in his eyes when he saw that he had an - inheritor; it was the pride of having a son, nothing more. He soon left - my side, and I saw no more of him, except in the rare moments he - consecrated to thee. Carried away in a round of pleasures, stifling in - the noise of revelry the cries of conscience, regretting his liberty, - furious at finding himself tied to a woman who was the only obstacle to - his ambitious desires, be wished to give the half of his fortune to get - clear of me; he overwhelmed me with reproaches, and flew into furious - rages about my being the cause of his misfortunes. - - "One day, after a fit of fury, in which he had treated me most cruelly, - he said, 'I do not wish you to nourish this child any more; I am not - going to have him raised by you!' These words struck me dumb. I had you - in my arms, my dear Robert, and I resolved to keep you there, and fly - with you to where he could not find me. I had laid by the sum of four - thousand francs, which my aunt had left me, and some savings from my - father's pension, with the jewels my husband gave me at our marriage. - These I sold, and that, added to the rest, made ten thousand francs. I - filled a trunk with the clothing which was absolutely necessary for us, - leaving behind all luxuries, and all ornaments and jewels, save a - portrait of thy father, which is in a small medallion set in pearls, and - may aid you to recognize him. All my preparations being made, I waited - until the servants had gone to their evening meal, and then, with a - thousand precautions, left by a stairway which led to the vestibule. It - was scarcely night when I came out and found a stage to take my baggage - and myself. I did not know at first where to go, but I wanted to fly far - from the city where I had suffered so much, and to assure myself of - keeping my child; this was my only thought, my only desire. In thinking - over where I should go, I remembered that my parents were originally of - l'Auvergne, and in my childhood I had heard my father describe this part - of France, and, above all, the baths of Mount Dore. I hesitated no - longer, taking the road to Clermont, but filled with the most horrid - fears. Each time the stage stopped I fancied I saw the angry figure of - thy father, and that he jerked thee from my arms. What I suffered during - this journey I can never express to you. A thousand terrors, shudderings, - and anguishes of all kinds agitated me, until I feared I should lose my - reason. If anyone looked at me, I thought they knew my secret, and was - ready to scream with horror. The gallop of a horse made me tremble and - think I was overtaken, and my emotion would have betrayed me had the - passengers been interested in watching my movements. Every unknown person - I suspected as an enemy, and the remembrance of those hours of my life is - still so vivid that they even now fill me with horror. However, I arrived - at Clermont without accident, and remained there long enough to inform - myself of the chances of being able to find a small house to let, in the - neighborhood of the baths of Mount Dore. Here the first years of thy life - were passed, and no remarkable event has ever troubled our happy - solitude. What I have most dreaded was that I might have to return to the - world, but God spares me this; he will take me soon. Thou canst now judge - of my anguish at the thought of being separated from thee, and the - desolation of my soul, that I know will soon leave thee alone in the - world. O my child! in this hour, when my love redoubles its strength and - struggles against death to enjoy some moments more of thy sweet society, - I weep bitterly at the loneliness I have made for thee. I may, perhaps, - exaggerate my wrongs; I may have acted badly; but when the moment comes - when I will appear before my sovereign Judge, to render an account for - all my actions, if I reproach myself with voluntarily throwing off the - yoke which weighed me down, I will say also, with the same frankness, - that I rejoice to have raised thee far from the world's corruptions and - would rather leave thee alone in life than surrounded by wicked men. -{73} - I have tried to instil good principles into thy mind, and I know that - thou fearest and lovest God and will cherish my memory, and the heart is - the talisman that will preserve thee from evil. I have the firm - conviction that thou wilt never forget the sublime teachings of religion, - and that it will ever guide thee in the right way. Pardon me, my son, for - having deprived thee of thy father's caresses and protection; and as I - have need of thy indulgence, I will be indulgent to others, and efface - all remembrance of what I have suffered, and will think only of the - happiness thou hast given me. Then, if it pleases God that thou shouldst - ever find thy father, tell him that I pardoned him long ago, but that I - never forgave myself for my conduct to him. Tell him that to the last - hour of my life I regretted I could not make him happy; and, if remorse - should fill his heart, console him, my child, be to him an angel of - mercy, be prodigal of thy cares and tenderness, for repentance is a - second baptism; it is the regeneration of the soul. When thou wilt read - the lines I now trace with trembling hand, it will be long after I have - bid adieu to the transitory things of time. Thou wilt be a man and - subject to passions. If thou art pure, God be blessed a thousand times; - if thou art feeble, repent sincerely and call upon God to assist thee. - Respect, above all things, the purity of affection. Hold out thy hand to - help all who need encouragement and pity. A word of compassion does more - good than severity and reproach. What can I say more, but what thou - knowest better than I do? for I have seen little of the world, and what I - have seen makes me regard it with horror. Flee from the wicked, from whom - nothing can be gained and all lost. Whatever career you may choose, fill - it with honor and credit. Happiness consists neither in feasting nor the - brilliancy of riches; it is in the life within, in doing good and making - others happy, and in laying up treasures in heaven. Recall often the - sweet and peaceful joys of thy childhood, the twelve years of thy life - which will forever be engraven in thy heart. May these simple pleasures - inspire thee with wisdom to choose between the burning, wasting pleasures - of a vain world, and the pure joys of retirement." - -Thus finished the letter. - - "O my precious mother!" cried Robert, raising his eyes toward heaven, "if - thou wert living, I would say to thee, with lively gratitude, 'Thou hast - done well;' for, if I am exempt from the passions of youth, it is to thy - tender care that I owe it; it is to thy love and thy virtues that I am - indebted for that peace of mind which makes my whole life happy. O my - good mother! thy memory will ever be for me a precious talisman, and thy - least desires and wishes will be sacred orders for thy son; and I swear - by thy revered memory to try and find my father, if the Lord will permit - me." - -To the confession of his mother were joined the register of the birth of -Robert and the marriage of Mlle. Stephanie Dormeuil with the Count Sosthène -de Verceil. Though Robert had the right to take his father's name, be did -not wish it. He preferred the more humble one of his mother, and hoped, by -his talent, to raise it above the noble one of his father; to efface its -original plebeianism under a crown of fame. This was the generous idea of a -good son, who wished to avenge the contempt his mother had received from -his noble grandparents. He had now but this desire, and determined the -maternal name should be cited among the illustrious. - -After one more visit to the grave of his mother, and another to his loved -mountain, the little house, and all the place, which spoke so eloquently of -her, he set out for the classic land of Italy, the cradle of the arts and -sciences. - -{74} - - Chapter IX. - - "A man may lose in a moment - His glory, empire, and dazzling throne." - --Victor Hugo. - - -Robert, after having lingered long on the shores of Lake Geneva, in the -city and its environs, so rich in natural beauties, and having admired the -grandeur of the Alps, and, above all, Mount Blanc, the Jura, and Mount -Salère, arrived at Saint René, a small village at the foot of the Great St. -Bernard. This was the 20th of May, 1824. - -The young painter wished to pass the night at the convent with the monks, -so he asked for a guide, but was told that they only started in the morning -to take travellers to that high point, and the innkeeper advised him to -wait until the next day; but he was not willing to take this advice, as -time was so precious to him that a day passed in inaction was an -irreparable loss. So be started out through the village to look for a -guide, but the man had told him the truth--there was not a guide to be -found. Robert expressed so much regret at his disappointment to a worthy -old man that he replied: - -"If it were any other day Joseph would conduct monsieur better than anyone -else, for be was the oldest guide, but unfortunately he could not do it, -for it was the 20th of May, and this day he always spends at church in -praying for his benefactor. But if you will go to his house you can see -him; it is down there," at the same time pointing to a pretty little -cottage with a garden in front. "A famous history, monsieur, that of -Joseph, and if he goes up with you, be will tell it you, and I must not -take up more of your time." - -"I am much obliged for your information, my good man, and will try and put -it to profit." Then he took the road toward the house, and soon reached it, -but imagine his disappointment to find it closed! As he was turning to -leave, he met a man of about fifty years of age, with a woman, still fresh -and beautiful, leaning on his arm, and they seemed to be absorbed in each -other; and in looking at them Robert forgot for a moment the guide he was -seeking. They stopped at the gate, and were about entering it when he -asked, "Is this the man Joseph of whom I was told--the guide up the -mountain?" - -"At your service, sir," replied he. "I am the person; do you wish to be -taken there?" - -"I do, but they told me at the village that you could not be induced to go -on the 20th of May, but I thought I would ask for myself, and I assure you -I will be very grateful if you can make this sacrifice in my favor, for I -have the greatest desire to pass the night with the good monks." His -amiable and polite manner had won the favor of the guide, but still he was -undecided. Robert, seeing his hesitation, begged him to give his consent. - -"It seems a little late to start," said the guide, reflecting and looking -as if he did not care to go. - -"Oh, we can walk fast," said Robert gayly. - -"Well, I find I must give up to you," said he, half sadly, half smiling. -"Come in the house, sir, while I change my clothes, and you may flatter -yourself with having gained a victory. It has been many years since I put -my foot on the mountain on the anniversary of this great day. It has been -twenty-four years since then." - -Robert was looking at a picture while he spoke, representing Napoleon -mounted on a mule, climbing up the Saint Bernard, escorted by a guide. - -"Aye, aye," said Joseph with emphasis, "this is my history--that guide who -walks by the side of the first consul is me, I had the honor of conducting -him." - -"Indeed," cried Robert, "oh! do tell me about it. If my poor Cyprien was -only here, how delighted he would be to hear of the emperor he loves so -much." - -"Is this Cyprien one of his faithful soldiers, sir?" - -{75} - -"Yes, and he is more than that; he is one of those soldier heroes who would -give the last drop of their heart's blood for the emperor. I have had the -happiness, with God's aid, to have saved from misery this noble wreck of -imperial glory, for he was indeed miserable when he lost his emperor." - -"Well, my good young man, that decides me at once, for, since you have -saved one of the old soldiers of the emperor, I can refuse you nothing, for -I loved him also, and had good reasons for so doing. We will start, and on -the way I will tell you to whom I am indebted for this pretty little house, -so good a wife, and children, that make all my joy. We must go rapidly, or -we will run the risk of a storm, for we have only time to arrive before -night, and in our mountains storms come up very suddenly." Then turning to -his wife, he embraced her and said, "Don't be uneasy, Margaret, I will -return to-morrow." They walked briskly, and soon left the village behind -them, and the guide commenced his history. - -"Twenty-four years ago, our valley was not so peaceful as it now is. It was -invaded by French troops, whose tumult was rather a strange contrast to the -usual noise of the mountains--the roar of the tempest and the moving of -the avalanches. The guides all became worn out with fatigue, and one -morning I was ordered out. I did not receive the order with much pleasure, -but I was young, poor, and unfortunately in love with the most beautiful -girl in the valley. The officer whom I was to guide wore a three-cornered -hat, and enveloped in a sort of gray riding coat. He had with him two other -gentlemen, but be rode first, and I was at his side. He was rather -singular, and did not seem to know or care where he was, though we were -above frightful precipices which gave the bravest a vertigo, but he was as -tranquil as if on a lounge in his chamber. It seemed so strange to me that -he had no fear and was so silent. But after awhile he spoke to me, -questioned me about my life, my pleasures, my troubles. His manner was so -winning that I told him everything, and when on the chapter of my loves -told him I would die if I could not marry Margaret. - -"Well," said he, smiling, "why not marry her then?" - -"For a very simple reason," I replied. "I am poor and she is rich, and I -cannot obtain the prize until I have a house and garden." - -He listened eagerly, then questioned me a great deal, and at last fell into -a a reverie, and remained silent and absorbed, until we arrived at the -convent, where the good monks came out to receive us. I did not pay much -attention to this, I was so chagrined. A little time after, the officer -came to me with a letter, which he directed me to take to the headquarters -of the army, on the other side of the mountain. I went and returned in the -evening from Saint Pierre with the answer. Imagine my surprise and -mortification when I found that the person with whom I had spoken so -familiarly was none other than the first consul, and his companions were -General Duroe and Secretary Bourrienne. I was terrified, thinking I should -be thrown into prison for daring to speak so familiarly to my superior. -What an end to my fears! The first consul gave me for my trouble a house, -garden, and money, so that all my dreams were in an instant realized. I -could now marry Margaret, and I was so completely overcome with joy that I -thought it was a miracle. This great man did all for me, and you can now -see why I love the emperor, and why all my happy remembrances are dated -from the 20th of May. - -This was only one of the many kind acts of Napoleon during his glorious -life; and if we are electrified in reading of his high military deeds, how -much more touching are those simple charities which show the beauty of his -soul, and the goodness and generosity of his heart, that will ever render -his memory immortal. - -{76} - -Joseph had related with so much spirit and animation his astonishing -adventure, and Robert had listened with such eagerness, that neither -thought of hastening their steps. The guide had necessarily consumed more -time in relating it than we take, and night was fast coming on. The sun had -long gone down, and the guide listened uneasily to a kind of rolling noise -that sounded like distant thunder. - -"The deuce!" he cried, "it will not be long before it is upon us. It is the -voice of the storm; don't you hear it? Oh! mercy! we have lost time, and I -have been the cause of it. O holy Virgin, come to our help!" - -Robert could not conceive the cause of his fright, but, stopping to listen, -he felt the same terror. "O Lord my God, protect me!" was his simple -prayer, which gave him strength to follow the guide, and the consciousness -of danger gave them wings. - -A violent wind filled the air with the snow that was loosened by the -mildness of the atmosphere, and it was so thick that they could scarcely -see. Then the tempest flapped its strongest wings, and moved huge masses of -snow, which threatened at each moment to ingulf them. These frightful -avalanches, these precipices, these abysses without bottom, these peaks -almost lost to sight, these eternal glaciers, and the imminent peril which -appeared on all sides, and presented, above all, the image of death; all -these sublime horrors, which freeze with fear the heart of guilty man, -Robert contemplated with joyous tranquillity. Before the awful majesty of -this grand scene, he adored God, whose powerful hand can raise the anger of -the elements or calm them at his pleasure. But the tempest increased so -much in fury that he was obliged to concentrate all his faculties to -preserve his equilibrium. The snow was blinding, and the guide, in terror -of making false steps that might plunge them into some abyss, went along -hesitatingly, lamenting and believing they were lost. More uneasy for the -guide than himself, in their alarming position, Robert tried to raise his -courage by speaking of his wife and children, when in an opening of the -path a large sign appeared. - -"Oh! we are saved:" said the guide in a faltering voice, and, with a hand -made stronger by hope, rang a large bell, which had a clear, vibrating -sound. - -This was the signal of distress that told the good monks that travellers -needed their help. But in the raging of the storm the sound of the bell is -not heard at the convent, and, numbed with cold and fatigue, Joseph swoons -on the snow. Robert tries to warm him and bring him back to consciousness, -but without avail, and at last he is seized with vertigo and dreadful -shiverings, and his numbed limbs refuse to take him further. But the -strength of his soul is greater than his body, and he falls breathing a -prayer to God. Not a sound but the noise of the elements is heard, and the -sliding of the snow that covers their inanimate bodies, and threatens to -leave no trace of them. - -"O God! will you let the orphan, whom you have taken under the wings of -your love, perish in this mountain solitude? Will not his pious invocation -be carried to your throne by the angel of prayer?" - -Listen! The liberators come; the snow is scratched away with precaution, -and they are found by the noble dogs, gifted with almost sublime instincts -which they consecrate to man, with a devotion and fidelity that puts to -shame many of the human species. Yes; it was "Help" and "Saviour" who had -found the spot where Robert and the guide lay, and breathed on their hands -and faces to try to relieve them; but, being unable to do it, they made the -mountain re-echo with their barks, which brought out the monks, whom they -guided to the spot. The bodies were then carried to the convent, and after -a few hours restored to consciousness; and the kind monks heartily gave -thanks that they were permitted to rescue from certain death two of their -fellow-beings. Could any mission be more noble than theirs; any devotion -more self-sacrificing? -{77} -Impossible; and in all the known world they are honored for their sublime -virtues, and acknowledged as noble martyrs of Christian charity. - -Robert passed eight days at the convent, and on each one saw the touching -piety and indefatigable solicitude of the monks. The last few days he made -several excursions over the mountain, where perpetual winter reigns; and -was dazzled by the lustre of the immense glaciers, and the glory of his -lonely surroundings. He sometimes thought if he were not an artist he would -consecrate the remainder of his life to the practice of charity, but his -love of art was too strong, and sunny Italy held out such attractions that -be was lured on, carrying with him the benediction and good wishes of those -noble men who had brought him back to life. - - ------- - - From the Dublin Review - - - Lecky's History Of Rationalism.[Footnote 12] - - [Footnote 12: History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of - Rationalism in Europe. By W. E. Lecky, M.A., London: Longmans, Green & - Co.] - - -It has been said by a very high authority that the study of history is -destined to assume a new aspect, from the application to it of a higher -order of minds and a more philosophical method of treatment. We are passing -out of the age of speciality into the age of generalization. Innumerable -observers have collected facts, and innumerable speculators have multiplied -theories; and we now seem to have arrived at that period when it becomes -the proper function of the thinker to co-ordinate the stores of knowledge -which have been set apart for him by others; evolve laws from the multitude -of instances; separate the truth from the falsehood of conflicting -theories; conjoin effects with their causes, and trace the half-revealed -and far-reaching relations between distant and apparently unconnected -phenomena. The influence of such a spirit--long felt in the less -complicated sciences--is now, even in England, beginning to act on those -which are more intricate. For history the time is rapidly passing away -during which a great but much erring thinker could say that it was the -unfortunate peculiarity of the history of man that, although its separate -parts had each been handled with considerable ability, hardly anyone had -hitherto attempted to combine them into a whole, or to ascertain the way in -which they are connected with each other. On the contrary, he said, a -strange idea prevailed among historians that their business was merely to -narrate events; so that, according to the notion of history in his day -prevalent, any writer who, from indolence of thought or from natural -incapacity, was unfit to deal with the highest branches of knowledge, had -only to pass some years in reading a certain number of books, and then he -was, _ipso facto_, qualified to be a historian. The time is fast -coming when those dreary and monotonous narratives of court intrigues and -party cabals will exist only to memorialize an age when the history of -kings was substituted for the history of nations, and the consideration of -the actions of a few individuals for the exposition of the life of the -whole social organization. -{78} -History is growing to be less of a chronicle and more of a science; her -office is no longer thought to be confined to the registration of a few -superficially prominent facts; but the discovery, by a scientific -induction, of historical laws, and the investigation of causes, is chiefly -aimed at; and, as the circumstances which have to be taken into account in -such a method of writing history are often dismissed by the older school of -writers as almost unworthy of notice, and are, moreover, exceedingly -numerous and of almost infinite complication, a far wider and more -diversified range of learning and a far greater power of analysis than were -formerly either required or expected are supposed in the historian. - -It would be idle to imagine that the influence of this more philosophical -way of writing history will not extend, or has not extended, to theology. -One of its first results has been the unpremeditated vindication by -non-Catholic writers of the mediaeval church. And that naturally; for the -action of the church in the middle ages was founded on their social state, -and it was therefore only when history descended into the bosom of society -that she could receive a fuller meed of justice. The Catholic Church has -been more philosophically treated, and her primary attribute, that she is a -kingdom, more perfectly realized; while a flood of light has been thrown on -the historical character of Protestantism, and to that farrago of heresies -the conclusions arrived at have been almost uniformly unfavorable. Nor must -we suppose that it will affect only the treatment of the external history -of Christianity, and leave untouched the history of its dogmas. It has -effected, and will hereafter, to a still greater extent effect, that both -Catholic doctrines and heretical opinions will be studied not only, as -heretofore, in their objective aspect--with respect to their evidence and -connections one with another--but more and more in their subjective aspect, -as to their influence on the minds of those who hold them. We have, to a -great extent, yet to see the results of a profound and extensive study of -dogmas in this light; but to study them in this light is undoubtedly the -tendency of the present age. We have thus opened to us a field of -investigation almost new, and in its nature very different from the beaten -tracks in which controversialists have hitherto followed one another. -Whatever be the results that may be thus finally arrived at, there cannot -be a doubt but that they will be fraught with immense advantage to the -cause of truth; and in the course of any researches that may be made into -the subjective influence of individual dogmas a number of facts hitherto -but little attended to--will be brought forward from the most various -sources; so that it will exceedingly behove those who have to attend to the -defence of Christianity to make sure that these are truly alleged and -represented. - -Mr. Lecky, as we have before noticed, endeavors to apply to religious the -more advanced method or secular history. He attempts to trace the -subjective influence of religious opinions, the manner in which they -mutually affected each other, and in which they acted or were reacted on by -the other influences of their time. He does not pay much attention to the -question of _evidence_, or to the arguments by which they were -supported, except in so far as the use of particular arguments or lines of -argument affords him some indication of the temper of the times of which he -writes. The very idea of his work--a history of religious -opinions--compelled him to attend to this rather than to the alleged -evidence of particular doctrines: the latter being the proper province of -the theologian as the former is of the historian. But from this necessary -one-sidedness of his work Mr. Lecky seems to have been led into a -corresponding one-sidedness of mind. Every one will grant that education, -disposition, the opinions, and, still more, the tone of those around us -make it exceedingly difficult to treat religious questions on the sole -ground of evidence; and Catholics are continually urging this against the -Protestants who, by their denial of the infallibility of the church, -multiply indefinitely the number of questions which have to be thus -decided; but Mr. Lecky goes further, and says that there really is not -sufficient evidence for us, situated as we are, to come to a reliable -conclusion at all. -{79} -It is natural, therefore, that he should now and then take occasion to sift -supposititious evidence and fallacious arguments; and in several places he -states with great force the nature and logical value of the reasons given -against some or other of the old doctrines now denied by Protestants. An -instance of this may be interesting to our readers; the subjoined passage -is taken from his second chapter On the Miracles of the Church: - - "If we ask, what are the grounds on which the cessation the of miracles - is commonly maintained; they may, I suppose, be summed up such as - follows: - - "Miracles, it is said, are the divine credentials of an inspired - messenger announcing doctrines which could not otherwise be established. - They prove that he is neither an imposter nor an enthusiast; that his - teaching is neither the work of a designing intellect nor of an - overheated imagination. From the nature of the case, this could not be - proved in any other way. ... Miracles are, therefore, no more improbable - than a revelation; for a revelation would be ineffectual without - miracles. But, while this consideration destroys the common objection to - the gospel miracles, it separates them clearly from those of the Church - of Rome. The former were avowedly exceptional; they were designed to - introduce a new religion, and to establish a supernatural message. The - latter were simply means of edification; they were directed to no object - that could not otherwise be attained, and they were represented as taking - place in a dispensation that was intended to be not of sight but of - faith. Besides this, miracles should be regarded as the most awful and - impressive manifestations of divine power. To make them habitual and - commonplace would be to degrade if not to destroy their character, which - would be still further abased if we admitted those which appear trivial - and puerile. The miracles of the New Testament were always characterized - by dignity and solemnity; they always conveyed some spiritual lesson, and - conferred some actual benefit, besides attesting the character or the - worker. The mediaeval miracles, on the contrary, were often trivial, - purposeless, and unimpressive; constantly verging on the grotesque, and - not unfrequently passing the border. - - "Such is, I think, a fair epitome of the common arguments in favor of the - cessation of miracles; and they are undoubtedly very plausible and very - cogent; but, after all, what do they prove? Not that miracles have - ceased, but that, _supposing_ them to have ceased, there is nothing - surprising or alarming in the fact. ... This is the full extent to which - they can legitimately be carried. As an _à priori_ proof, they are - far too weak to withstand the smallest amount of positive testimony. - Miracles, it is said, are intended exclusively to accredit an inspired - messenger. But, after all, what proof is there of this? It is simply an - hypothesis, plausible and consistent it may be, but entirely unsupported - by positive testimony. Indeed, we may go further, and say that it is - distinctly opposed by your own facts. ... You must admit that the Old - Testament relates many miracles which will not fall under your canon. ... - But the ecclesiastical miracles, it is said, are often grotesque; and - appear _primâ facie_ absurd, and excite an irresistible repugnance. - A sufficiently dangerous test in an age when men find it more and more - difficult to believe any miracles whatever. A sufficiently dangerous test - for those who know the tone that has been long adopted, over an immense - part of Europe, toward such narratives as the deluge or the exploits of - Samson, the speaking ass or the possessed pigs! Besides this, a great - proportion of the ecclesiastical miracles are simply reproductions of - those which are recorded in the Bible; and if there are mingled with them - some that appear manifest impostures, this may be a very good reason for - treating these narratives with a more jealous scrutiny, but is certainly - no reason for maintaining that they are all below contempt. The Bible - neither asserts nor implies the revocation of supernatural gifts; and if - the general promise that these gifts should be conferred may have been - intended to apply only to the apostles, it is at least as susceptible of - a different interpretation. If these miracles were actually continued, it - is surely not difficult to discover the beneficial purpose which they - would fulfil. They would stimulate a languid piety; they would prove - invaluable auxiliaries to missionaries laboring among barbarous and - unreasoning savages, who, from their circumstances and habits of mind, - are utterly incapable of forming any just estimate of the evidences of - the religion they are called upon to embrace. .... To say that these - miracles are false because they are Roman Catholic is to assume the very - question at issue."--Vol. i. pp. 173-177. - -{80} - -There is nothing, indeed, that is particularly new in this reasoning; our -readers must have frequently seen or heard it urged against Protestants; -but it is valuable in Mr. Lecky's history, as showing the view taken of the -ordinary Protestant arguments by the higher class of anti-Catholic writers. -In a similar manner he disposes of the vulgar arguments against magic and -sorcery in a passage which, however, is, we regret to say, too long for -quotation (Vol. i. pp. 9-16). He there concludes by saying that the -evidence on that subject is so vast and so varied, that it is impossible to -disbelieve it without what, on any other subject, we should consider the -most extraordinary rashness. The subject was examined in tens of thousands -of cases, in almost every country in Europe, by tribunals which included -the acutest lawyers and ecclesiastics of the age, on the scene and at the -time when the alleged acts had taken place, and with the assistance of -innumerable sworn witnesses. As condemnation would be followed by a fearful -death, and the accused were, for the most part, miserable beings whose -destruction can have been an object to no one, the judges can have had no -sinister motives in convicting, and had, on the contrary, the most urgent -reasons for exercising their power with the utmost caution and -deliberation. The accusations were often of such a character that all must -have known the truth or falsehood of what was alleged. _The evidence is -essentially cumulative._ Some cases, it is added, may be explained by -monomania, others by imposture, others by chance coincidences, and others -by optical delusions; but, when we consider the multitudes of strange -statements that were sworn to and registered in legal documents, he -confesses that it is very difficult to frame a general rationalistic -explanation which will not involve an extreme improbability. - -And now, passing to another subject, even Catholics may find in the -following passage something worthy of being dwelt on: - - "The world is governed by its ideals, and seldom or never has there been - one which has exercised a more profound and on the whole a more salutary - influence than the mediaeval conception of the Virgin. For the first time - woman was elevated to her rightful position, and the sanctity of weakness - was recognized as well as the sanctity of sorrow. No longer the slave or - toy of man, no longer associated only with ideas of degradation and of - sensuality, woman rose, in the person of the Virgin Mother, into a new - sphere, and became the object of a reverential homage of which antiquity - had had no conception. Love was idealized. The moral charm and beauty of - female excellence was for the first time felt. A new type of character - was called into being; a new kind of admiration was fostered. Into a - harsh and ignorant and benighted age this ideal type infused a type of - gentleness and of purity unknown to the proudest civilizations of the - past. In the pages of living tenderness which many a monkish writer has - left in honor of his celestial patron; in the millions who, in many lands - and in many ages, have sought with no barren desire to mould their - character into her image; in those holy maidens who, for the love of - Mary, have separated themselves from all the glories and pleasures of the - world, to seek in fastings and vigils and humble charity to render - themselves worthy of her benediction; in the new sense of honor, in the - chivalrous respect, in the softening of manners, in the refinement of - tastes displayed in all the walks of society; in these and in many other - ways we detect its influence. All that was best in Europe clustered - around it, and it is the origin of many of the purest elements of our - civilization,"--Vol. i. pp. 234-235. - -"But," he is pleased to add, "the price, and perhaps the necessary price, -of this was the exaltation of the Virgin as an omnipresent deity of -infinite power as well as of infinite condescension." Here we have an -example of the extraordinary mistakes which are occasionally made by Mr. -Lecky. We by no means accuse him of intentional misrepresentation; and in a -work of nearly a thousand pages, of which there is scarcely a page without -a note, and scarcely a note without six or seven references or quotations, -it was impossible but that some inaccuracies should creep in. But he -unfortunately often uses a looseness and generality of reference which -makes his notes almost useless to anyone desirous of verifying them, and -his inaccuracies, some of which bear with them an appearance of great -carelessness, are incredibly frequent; while we desiderate in him that -fulness of theological knowledge which a writer ought to possess who -criticises dogmatic systems so dogmatically as he does. -{81} -In the present case he actually seems to think that the Blessed Virgin was -regarded as an omnipresent deity because it was believed that she could -hear prayers anywhere addressed to her. But the teaching of Catholic -theologians makes a very great difference between the omnipresence of God -and the manner in which the Blessed Virgin and the saints are cognizant of -the prayers poured out to them on earth. The Scotists ordinarily teach that -God reveals to the saints in glory whatever it is expedient that they -should know; the Thomists that they see in the vision of God the prayers -and the necessities of men; some have urged the elevation and expansion of -even their natural faculties consequent on their entrance into the state of -glory; but none have ever supposed them to be present, as God is, to the -whole created universe. Mr. Lecky, proceeds to state that before the belief -that a finite spirit could hear prayer wherever offered was firmly -established, it was believed that at least they hovered round the places -where their relics had been deposited, and there, at least, attended to the -prayers of their suppliants. In support of this assertion he quotes the -following words as from St. Jerome: "Ergo cineres suos amant animae -martyrum, et circumvolant eos, semperque praesentes sunt; ne forte si -aliquis precator advenerit absentes audire non possint," to which he gives -the extraordinary reference, "Epistolae, 1. iii. c. 13." These words indeed -occur in St. Jerome; but they occur as the sarcasm of an opponent which St. -Jerome gives only in order to refute it. The passage is quoted from -Vigilantius in St. Jerome's book against that heretic; but the saint -himself calls it a "portent worthy of hell," and argues, in reply to the -idea expressed in it, that we cannot set laws to God; that the martyrs -follow the Lamb wheresoever he goeth; that the demons wander over the whole -world; and are the martyrs to be shut up in a box? As to the Blessed Virgin -being regarded as a deity of infinite power and infinite condescension, -those Catholic writers who in their devotional writings have spoken the -most strongly of her power, have merely said that God will never refuse her -anything she asks, and that she will never ask anything inconsistent with -his Providence. Mr. Lecky shows in many other places the grossest ignorance -of Catholic theology. He quotes, in evidence of the present belief of the -Roman Church in demoniacal possession, a ritual which, he says, "is used in -the diocese of Tarbes." He need not have gone to an obscure provincial -ritual for proof of his assertion; he will hardly find any Catholic -theologian who denies it; and the most used, and best known of our modern -theological writers has devoted a special chapter to the subject (Perrone, -De Deo Creatore, Part I., c. v.) The doctrine of punishment by a material -fire "still lingers," he tells us, "in the Roman Catholic manuals for the -poor." If by this he meant that it does not remain also among theologians, -this is not true; Perrone, one of the most moderate, calls it, "sententia -communiter reccpta." (De Deo Creatore, Part III., c. vi. a. 3.) - -In the latter part of his chapter "on the Developments of Rationalism," Mr. -Lecky has put forward an opinion that the doctrine of the material -character of the penal fire is closely connected with the ancient opinion, -that the soul is in some sense material. The doctrine of a material fire -became, he says, the foundation of all opinion that the soul is of a -material nature; and he refers to Tertullian, citing De Anima, c. viii. -This assertion is, however, utterly without foundation. It nowhere appears -that this was the chief foundation on which this error was rested. Far from -making this material conception of punishment the chief ground of his -argument, Tertullian, in the passage quoted by Mr. Lecky, does not argue -from the materiality of the fire at all. -{82} -What he does argue from is the corporeal manner in which Abraham, Dives, -and Lazarus, are represented in the Gospel; from Abraham's bosom the tongue -or Dives, and the finger of Lazarus; and he mentions the "ignis" merely in -an incidental manner, and not to argue from its material nature, but to -found his reasoning on the general proposition that whatever is susceptible -of "fovela" or of "passio" must be corporeal. It is, of course, quite -conceivable that a writer, who believed the soul to be of a material -nature, might argue from the commonly received opinion of a material fire; -but the origin of this opinion was in fact quite different. Some of those -who held it even believed the "fire" of hell to be metaphorical. But before -the advent of Christianity the minds of the people had been constantly and -persistently directed to the sensible and the material; from the ranks of -the people Christianity was recruited; and it is not wonderful if somewhat -of their former habits of thought clung to those who were converted. It was -only by degrees, and after a patient and silent opposition to prevailing -habits of thought, that Christianity succeeded in spiritualizing religious -conceptions; and the time which elapsed before this had been effected--a -period of more than three hundred years--was one of no little confusion in -this regard. But no one seems to have been led into the error of supposing -the human soul to be material by the notion of a material fire. Some -believed this to be the case because they could not see how it could -possibly be otherwise; they were unable to rise to the idea of a spirit, -properly so called; they could not conceive anything to be real, and not -material. That this was the case, in particular, with Tertullian, cannot be -doubted, whether we consider his way of speaking in the whole book _De -Anienâ_, in the book _Adv. Praxeam_, c. xi., and in the _De Carne -Christi_, c. xi., or the pre-eminently sensuous and realistic character -of his mind. The Platonic philosophy was another foundation of this opinion -respecting the human soul. Some writers who were especially attached to -Platonism, as Origen, explained the Platonic doctrine of emanation as -meaning that God alone is a pure Spirit, all beings proceeding from God -having a trace of materiality greater or less as they are more or less -removed from him. They therefore believed all created spirits to be in some -sense material; and forms of expression which may seem properly to belong -to this opinion remained, as is often the case, long after the opinion -itself had vanished. But the source of the whole error was, as is evident, -the materialized method of conception of pre-Christian times. - -But Mr. Lecky goes much further than this. He tells us that this opinion of -the materiality of the human soul--which, if we except at most two or -three writers, had certainly died out in the sixth, if not in the fifth -century--was the dominant opinion in the middle ages: - - "Under the influence of mediaeval habits of thought, every spiritual - conception was materialized, and what at an earlier and a later period - was generally deemed the language of metaphor, was universally regarded - as the language of fact. The realizations of the people were all derived - from paintings, sculpture, or ceremonies that appealed to the senses, and - all subjects were therefore reduced to palpable images. The angel in the - last judgment was constantly represented weighing the souls in a literal - balance, while devils clinging to the scales endeavored to disturb the - equilibrium. Sometimes the soul was portrayed as a sexless child, rising - out of the mouth of the corpse. But, above all, the doctrine of purgatory - arrested and enchained the imagination. ... Men who believed in a - physical soul readily believed in a physical punishment, men who - materialized their view of the punishment, materialized their view of the - sufferers. - - "We find, however," he proceeds, "some time before the reformation, - evident signs of an endeavor on the part of a few writers to rise to a - purer conception of the soul." And he goes on to attribute this to "the - pantheistic writings that flowed from the school of Averrhoes;" and to - ascribe to the Cartesian philosophy "the final downfall of the - materialistic hypothesis." Vol. i. pp. 373-378. - -{83} - -It is not too much to say that the whole of this is entirely unsupported by -evidence. Anyone who likes to glance over the Coimbricenses _De -Animâ_, the beginning of the second book of the Sentences, the questions -_De Animâ_ in the Summa of St. Thomas, the recapitulation of the -scholastic theology on that subject in the third volume of Suarez, or the -very earliest treatises _De Angelis_, will see that, far from there -being merely "a few writers" who maintained the spirituality of the soul, -the notion of immateriality was as well defined in the dominant scholastic -philosophy as ever it was by Descartes; whose doctrine that the essence of -the soul is thought, was clearly stated by the scholastics in the sense -that intellection can only belong to the spiritual, and not to the material -and the extended. [Footnote 13] The manner in which the Scholastics -explained the punishment of a spiritual being by a material fire affords us -a test-question on this subject. _Did_ their "intense realization" of -this doctrine lead them to infer the materiality of the soul? Certainly -not. On the contrary; _because_ all thoroughly realized the -spirituality of the soul, all felt this difficulty regarding the manner of -its punishment; but, although there was sufficient diversity among them as -to its explanation, not one had recourse to the materialistic hypothesis. - - [Footnote 13: See St. Thomas Contra Gentiles, 1.2, c. 49, 50, 51, 65, - cf. 66, where an immense number of arguments, in great part, of course, - drawn from the philosophy of the day, is heaped up to prove the - spirituality of the soul.] - -Nor is Mr. Lecky correct in stating that the Arabian philosophy had a -spiritualizing influence on philosophy and theology. That philosophy -eminently favored the "_multiplicatio entium sine necessitate_," than -which nothing is more unspiritualizing. Some of those who held it expounded -the doctrine of matter and form in a manner dangerous to the spirituality -of the soul. [Footnote 14] They held the perilous doctrine of emanation, -and it would be quite a mistake to suppose that the description of error -which they taught had any conformity of spirit with the poetical and -sentimental pantheistic theories of the present day. - - [Footnote 14: See St. Thomas, Op. de Angelis, cap 5.] - -It is chiefly from the character of the then religious art, which (of -course) represented spiritual subjects by material symbols, that Mr. Lecky -argues that the middle ages materialized all spiritual conceptions. Thus, -in a note to p. 232, vol. 1., he speaks thus: - - "The strong desire natural to the middle ages to give a palpable form to - the mystery of the Incarnation, was shown curiously in the notion of a - conception by the ear. In a hymn, ascribed to St. Thomas à Becket, occur - the lines:-- - - "Ave Virgo, Mater Christi, - Quae per aurem concepisti, - Gabriele nuntio." - - And in an old glass window, now I believe in one of the museums of Paris, - the Holy Ghost is represented hovering over the Virgin in the form of a - dove, while a ray of light passes from his beak to her ear, along which - ray an infant Christ is descending."--Langlois, _Peinture sur - Verre_, p. 157. - -And our readers will remember remarks of a like bearing in the quotation -last given. Such criticisms are, however, to us merely evidence of so many -curious misapprehensions. They merely show that an acquaintance with the -history of religious art is but a very inadequate preparation for writing -the history of religious dogmas. It is perfectly impossible to represent -spiritual things in painting and sculpture otherwise than by material -images. Nothing is more common than so to represent them even among -Protestants of the present day; nothing was more common in the Old -Testament, the very stronghold of the ancient anthropomorphites. We feel no -inclination to deny that it is exceedingly difficult for the poor and the -ignorant to rise to the conception of a spirit, and almost all mankind -represent to themselves even the very Deity under some refined material -image; but when such representations occupied a prominent position in -public worship, there was an opportunity, and that frequently made use of, -of correcting an untruthful imagination. - -{84} - -We have no hesitation in saying that there is far more unconscious -anthropomorphism among the Protestant than among the Catholic poor. The -doctrines of revelation make known a world akin to, yet not the same as, -this; they tell of an order of things itself unseen, but possessing -counterparts and shadows here. It is, therefore, not wonderful that there -exists a constant tendency to forget that these are but imperfect types and -symbols, and to remodel the truths of faith into conformity with what we -see around us. To correct this tendency is one of the functions of the -science of theology; and the conclusions of theology, infiltrating among -the people, keep them from sinking into earthly and anthropomorphic views -of religion, these conclusions being communicated by the ordinary resources -in the hands of the church, which, certainly, are far more efficacious in -the Catholic than in the Protestant system. Indeed, of all the reproaches -which have been directed against the theology of the middle ages, that of -being in its spirit gross and material is one of the most unfounded and the -most unjust. With far greater truth might such a reproach be directed -against the Protestant theology of the last three centuries. In the middle -ages, theology had a code and a standard of her own; she was the queen of -the sciences; she regulated and moulded the ideas of the time. Now, -condemned to occupy a subordinate position, she is content to take her -ideas from those current in the world, and to use her terms, not in their -proper and theological signification, but in the meanings derived from the -manner of their present use in physical science and in common life. An -example of this occurs in the case of the word _person_, the loss of -the theological meaning of which among Protestants has confused, if not -obliterated, the doctrine of the Trinity. In Protestantism, the belief of -the people lives chiefly by a tradition propagated through no recognized -theological channel; a tradition which, consequently, daily grows more -feeble and less definite; which is continually becoming more and more -corrupted, more low, and earthly, and anthropomorphous. Look at the common -Protestant idea of the happiness of the blessed. The great Catholic -doctrine which places the essence of the beatitude of man, not in a -prolongation and refinement of the pleasures of this world, not even in the -sight of Christ's humanity, but in that vision of God as God which is -emphatically called beatific, had almost faded out of sight. They look -forward to an earthly millennium, which is little better than a -glorification of commerce, material prosperity, and natural virtue, to be -succeeded by a heaven of which the joys very much resemble those which some -Catholic theologians with Suarez [Footnote 15] assign to infants who die -without baptism. But against the reproach of lowness and materialism of -conception being ever directed against the theologians of mediaeval times, -the doctrine of the beatific vision, which they so fully and so beautifully -evolved, stands a perpetual protest. For in what was this coarseness and -lowness of thought more likely to appear, than in their conception of the -greatest happiness of man? Or who were more likely to teach what is far -removed from vulgar and worldly conceptions than men who placed the sum of -all happiness in the vision and fruition of divine essence, which, -according to them, could be seen by no corporal eye, [Footnote 16] and in -which was, they said, that joy which eye had not seen nor ear heard, -neither had it entered into the heart of man to conceive? The whole of the -scholastic treatise _De Deo Uno_ is but another magnificent protest -against such an accusation. -{85} -The heresy of Gilbert Porretanus [Footnote 17] would never be condemned by -the Protestants of the present day; nor has ever the conception of the -divine simplicity in perfection been so fully realized as it was by those -much-abused theologians. The mediatorship of our blessed Lord is now -commonly apprehended by Protestants in a manner which makes a real -difference of character between the father and son; but no one who knows -anything of the scholastic doctrine of the Trinity and the Incarnation can -imagine that these theologians would have tolerated for a moment a notion -so frightfully heretical. With respect to psychology, the scholastic age -saw the death of Traducianism; and anyone who has attended to the earlier -scholastic opinions respecting the manner in which spirits suffer in the -penal fire, will have seen that they are of a more "spiritual" tendency -than those of most Protestant theologians. [Footnote 18] - - [Footnote 15: De Peccato Originall.] - - [Footnote 16: St. Thomas, in ima & q.12, a. 3; and other older authors - in Sent. i. 1, d.1, & l. 4, d.49] - - [Footnote 17: Lombardus in Sent. i. 1, d.33, 34; and the commentators - _ad loc_.] - - [Footnote 18: Sensation and "sensitive imagination" appeared to the - scholastic to be of sole material a character, that they would not - admit that these and other sensitive affections can exist in a separate - spirit; and, consequently, those theologians who explain the punishment - of separate spirits by the analogy of the soul and body, were compelled - to admit that the pain must be different in kind from the "passio - conjuncti."] - -Mr. Lecky's criticisms on the opinion that the penal fire is literal and -material, and on the supposed general materialism of religious conception -in the middle ages, have led us into somewhat of a digression. We have yet, -however, one more remark to make. While he concedes that after the time of -Averrhoes "a few writers" endeavored to rise to a more spiritual manner of -conceiving the truths of faith, he asserts that in the preceding period, -before his influence and that of such sects as the Beguins had begun to be -felt, the state of things was infinitely worse. From the sixth to the -twelfth century materialism in religion was absolutely dominant. That the -period preceding the advent of the scholastic epoch was one of great -depression of theological science, cannot be doubted; and the amount of -what may in a general way be called anthropomorphism current at any period -is to a great extent conditioned by the want of general cultivation. But it -is very easy to overrate this depression. The episcopal and synodical -letters, for instance, which were exchanged concerning the subject of -adoptionism do not present to us theological science at, by any means, a -low ebb. The same may be said respecting the controversy in the ninth -century on the Eucharist; and the controversy on Predestination, if it do -not reveal any large amount of historical learning, at least exhibits -considerable activity of mind. Such of the writings of authors of that -period as the present writer has looked into, show an amount of learning -and acuteness which was certainly unexpected by him. That period was -necessarily uncritical; but we regard the taste for allegorizing, then as -formerly prevalent, to be an indication of something very different from a -degraded and material habit of thought. The great teacher of the -pre-scholastic age was St. Augustine, one of the most spiritual of the -fathers; and the writer who was chosen to supplement him was St. Gregory -the Great, who went farther than, and improved on, St. Augustine himself. -And, as to the religious art of that period, Mr. Lecky has himself alluded -to a peculiarity which, strangely enough, seems to have given him no -disquietude as to his general conclusion. In that period, he says: - - "We do not find the smallest tendency to represent God the Father. - [Footnote 19] Scenes, indeed, in which he acted were frequently depicted, - but the First Person of the Trinity was invariably superseded by the - Second. Christ, in the dress and with the features appropriated to him in - the representations of scenes from the New Testament, and often with the - monogram underneath his figure, is represented creating man, condemning - Adam and Eve to labor, ... or giving the law to Moses. With the exception - of a hand sometimes extended from the cloud, and occasionally encircled - with a nimbus, we find in this period no traces in art of the Creator. -{86} - At first we can easily imagine that a purely spiritual conception of the - Deity, and also the hatred that was inspired by the type of Jupiter, - would have discouraged artists from attempting such a subject, and - Gnosticism, which exercised a very great influence over Christian art, - and which emphatically denied the divinity of the God of the Old - Testament, tended in the same direction; but it is very unlikely that - these reasons can have had any weight between the sixth and the twelfth - centuries. For the more those centuries are studied, the more evident it - becomes that the universal and irresistible tendency was then to - materialize every spiritual conception, to form a palpable image of - everything that was reverenced, to reduce all subjects within the domain - of the senses."--(Vol. i. pp. 224-5.) - - [Footnote 19: We cannot ourselves, as Catholics, admit that there is - necessarily the smallest impropriety or inexpediency in picture or - sculptured representations of God the Father (See Denzinger, n. 1182 - and 1482); yet we may fairly argue that the absence of such, at the - period in question, disproves Mr. Lecky's assertion that the dominant - tendency of that period was anthropomorphous.] - -The most celebrated of the theologians of the middle ages is undoubtedly -St. Thomas Aquinas. St. Thomas, however, comes in for an extra share of -misrepresentation. At p. 72, vol. ii., we read of him, that he was one of -the ablest writers of the fourteenth century--he died in the thirteenth-- -and that "he assures us that diseases and tempests are the direct acts of -the devil, that he can transport men at his pleasure through the air," and -that "omnes angeli, boni, et mali, ex naturali virtute habent potestatem -transmutandi corpora nostra." Now all this is precisely what St. Thomas -denies. In the first place, anyone would imagine from the manner in which -our author writes, that the great mediaeval theologian imagined that, in -the ordinary course of things, diseases and tempests are produced by -Satanic agency. St. Thomas never taught any such thing, but over and over -again refers both the one and the other to natural causes. [Footnote 20] - - [Footnote 20: V.g., Comm. in Ps. xvii., and in Arist. Meteor. i. 2, - lect xvi.; cf. Summa, i. 2, q. 50, a. 2.] - -Mr. Lecky ought to have written "may be;" but the meaning of the words -would have been very different, and their point would have been taken away. -Secondly, while St. Thomas teaches, in accordance with Holy Writ, that the -demons can exercise power over material things, he also teaches that they -cannot directly change the qualities of things, nor produce any -preternatural change except local motion: nor that at their pleasure; for -it is a principle with him that God does not permit them to do all that -which they have _per se_ the power of doing. [Footnote 21] - - [Footnote 21: Questiones de Malo, q. 16, art. 9, etc.; Questiones de - Potentia Dei, q 6. art. 5.] - -Thirdly, as to their natural power of transmuting our bodies. We have not -been able to find the exact words quoted above, but many similar phrases -occur in the _objections_ in the ninth article of the _Quaestio de -Daemonibus_, which, it is sufficient to say, St. Thomas solves by -saying: - - But on the other hand, St. Augustine [Footnote 22] says "Non solum animam - sed nec corpus quidem nulla ratione crediderim daemonom arte vel - potestate in brutalia lineamenta poese converti." ... I reply that, as - the apostle says, "all things made by God in order," whence, as St. - Augustine says, "the excellence of the universe is the excellence of - order. ... and therefore Satan always uses natural agents as his - instruments in the production of physical effects, and can so produce - effects which exceed the efficacy of the natural agents; [Footnote 23] - but he cannot cause the form of the human body to be changed into that of - an animal, because this would be contrary to the order established by - God; and all such conversions are, therefore, as Augustine shows in the - place quoted, according to phantastical appearance rather than truth. - - [Footnote 22: De Civ. Dei. 1. 18, c. 88.] - - [Footnote 23: I.e., which exceeds their ordinary effects, because he - can use them more skillfully (cf. ad. 11).] - -At p. 350 of vol. I., Mr. Lecky tells us that the mediaeval writers taught -that God would make the contemplation of the sufferings of the lost an -essential elements in the happiness of the blessed. He does not know of -what he writes. It was taught that the essential element in their happiness ---the _Essentia Beatitudinis_,--is the vision of God; all else -accessory and subordinate. In a note to justify his assertion, he adds -these words:--"St. Thomas Aquinas says, 'Beati in regno coelesti videbunt -poenas damnatorum ut beatitudo illis magis complaceat.'" The quotation is -not accurate. -{87} -After quoting Isaias, ult. 24, be says, "Respondeo dicendum ad primam -questionem quòd a beatis nihil subtrahi debet quod _ad perfectionem -beatitudinis_ eorum pertineat: _unumquodque autem ex comparatione -contrarii magis cognoscitur_, quia contraria juxta se posita magis -elucescunt; et ideò, ut beatitudo sanctorum eis magis complaceat, _et de -eá uberiores gratias Deo agant_, datur eis ut poenam impiorum perfecte -intueantur." [Footnote 24] The passage of St. Thomas, as given by Mr. -Lecky, is just one of those which may very well bear either of two -meanings. It might mean something very repulsive and very cruel. But the -unmutilated passage can bear but one interpretation. St. Thomas does not -say that they rejoice in the sufferings themselves; but that they are -permitted to see them, in order that they may feel yet more intensely how -precious is their own beatitude, and thank God the more heartily for their -own escape. - - [Footnote 24: supplementum ad tertiam partem Summa, q.94, a. 1.] - -In a note to his chapter on the Industrial History of Rationalism, Mr. -Lecky charges St. Thomas with what is nothing less than moral obliquity. -The Duchess of Brabant, he says, had a scruple of conscience about -tolerating the Jews. She therefore consulted St. Thomas; "who replied, -among other things that the Jews were doomed to perpetual servitude, and -that all their property being derived from usury might lawfully be taken -from them." Mr. Lecky is inaccurate both as to the confiscation of their -property and as to the perpetual servitude. St. Thomas does not say that -all their property was derived from usury, and it would, indeed, have been -rather a rash judgment in him to say so. But the Duchess of Brabant had -apparently desired to impose new burdens on the Jews, and in writing to St. -Thomas had stated that all their property seemed to be derived from usury; -to which he replied, that _if this were so_, they might lawfully be -compelled to make restitution. Nor does this by any means imply that all -their property was to be taken away from them, as appears from St. Thomas's -letter among his opuscula, [Footnote 25] and from his general doctrine -respecting restitution. [Footnote 26] With respect to the perpetual -servitude what St. Thomas does say is this: "_Although according to the -laws_ the Jews be, or were, through their own fault doomed to perpetual -servitude, and thus princes could appropriate their possessions as their -own, yet this is to be understood leniently, so that the necessaries of -life be by no means taken from them. _But since we ought, as the apostle -declares, to walk honestly in the sight of those who are without, of Jews -and Gentiles, and the Church of God, as the laws declare, compulsory -service is not to be required of them, which they were not wont to perform -in time past._" He goes on to say that if ill-gotten goods were taken -from the Jews, it would be unlawful for her to retain them, but they would -have to be restored to those from whom they had been unjustly taken; and -even under these conditions he declines to sanction any proceeding against -them, but only "si nihil aliud obsistat." Mr. Lecky also quotes, he says, -the Histriones of St. Thomas. What the Histriones of St. Thomas are, we -have not, we confess, the most remote idea. - - [Footnote 25: Opusc. xxii, in calce Opusculi de Regimine Principum.] - - [Footnote 26: Summa, 2, 2, q. 61-62, etc.] - -Mr. Lecky professes to give the analyses of various theological beliefs and -tones of thought which have prevailed in other times. Of these, however, he -has had but little or no practical experience. He consequently puts before -us only certain restricted points of view, which have strongly impressed -themselves on his mind in the course of his studies and meditations. We are -hurried along by his words as by a flood; but while the effects which some -particular doctrine possibly _might_ produce if it were held alone are -vividly set before us, he totally loses sight of those other doctrines, -which were organically connected with it, and modified and regulated its -action. To evade one difficulty be falls into another: he concentrates his -gaze on a point that he may see more clearly; but, confining it there, -loses sight of those harmonies and contrasts, which make up the beauty of -the whole. In one direction this defect has had very great influence. -{88} -"Veritas" is, it is said, "in medio;" the present age has gone wrong all on -one side; and Mr. Lecky, who is an advanced disciple of the present age, -consequently considers that preceding ages have gone wrong all on the -other. He sees that there is a very great difficulty in adequately -realizing phases of thought so very different from those which now prevail. -And, because of this, he expends his strength on the points of difference, -neglecting for their sake things nearer to his apprehension; and the very -natural consequence is that he gives us a distorted and exaggerated picture -in which the common elements are not sufficiently brought out. - -An instance of this occurs in his treatment of the subject of eternal -punishment. The general organization and want of order which pervades his -work is quite insufficient to account for the pertinacity with which he -again and again recurs to the subject. Like the whole anti-Christian party, -and very naturally, he detests the doctrine with his whole spirit; and he -allows this detestation to color his whole views of the middle ages. He -attributes to its influence whatever he finds, or imagines himself to have -found, of a hard, cruel, and repulsive character in their theory and -practice. He begins by misrepresenting the character of the doctrine -itself. He separates it from the conditioning doctrines which were taught -along with it, and which regulated and directed its influence. He dwells -almost entirely on the terrible side of the then existing Christianity, and -almost altogether neglects the operation of the concurring principle of -love, the opposite pole of the Christian motives. And then he concludes -that to its influence was due the severity of punishments in the middle -ages. A universal terrorism was produced. The sense of the divine mercy was -destroyed. The sufferings of the lost were at first regarded with horror; -but as men became more used to the thing, the horror was changed to -indifference, and the indifference to a barbarous delight in the -contemplation and even the infliction of pain. It will not require many -arguments to show that such a method of treatment is monstrous. Mr. Lecky -ought to have noticed that the causes which in the middle ages led to -peculiar stress being laid on the doctrine of eternal punishment, were -causes external to, and mostly in direct opposition, to the church; and -that their tendency was met by a corresponding realization of an opposite -pole of Christian feeling. - -We cannot better introduce what -we have to say on the severity of punishments, -and the alleged callousness -of disposition in mediaeval times, and, -indeed, on Mr. Lecky's whole criticism -of the subject of eternal punishment, -than by a passage from a most able -writer: - - "One of the effects of civilization (not to say one of the ingredients in - it) is, that the spectacle, and even the very idea, of pain, is kept more - and more out of sight of those classes who enjoy in their full the - benefits of civilization. The state of perpetual personal conflict, - rendered necessary by the circumstances of former times, and from which - it was hardly possible for any person, in whatever rank of society, to be - exempt, necessarily habituated everyone to the spectacle of harshness, - rudeness, and violence, to the struggle of one indomitable will against - another, and to the alternate suffering and infliction of pain. These - things, consequently, were not as revolting even to the best and most - actively benevolent men of former days, as they are to our own; and we - find the recorded conduct of those men frequently such as would be - universally considered very unfeeling in a person of our own day. They, - however, thought less of the infliction of pain, because they thought - less of pain altogether. When we read of actions of the Greeks and - Romans, or of our own ancestors, denoting callousness to human suffering, - we must not think that those who committed these actions were as cruel as - we must become before we could do the like. The pain which they - inflicted, they were in the habit of voluntarily undergoing from slight - causes; it did not appear to them as great an evil as it appears, and as - it really is, to us, nor did it in any way degrade their minds." - [Footnote 27] - - [Footnote 27: J.S. Mill, Dissertations and Discussions; Art - Civilization.] - -{89} - -The scale, in fact, according to which degrees of pain were computed, was -much less minute then than now. This arose from the imperfect subdivision -of labor in society, and the consequently more frequently recurring -necessity of personally putting forth powers of endurance and of action; -from the continual wars and commotions; from the imperfection of the -mechanical appliances which now alleviate suffering; from a sterner and -rougher manner of living, necessitated by the undeveloped state of the -social arts; from the intimate intermingling of the civil and the military -life, arising out of the feudal system; and from a multitude of other -causes. To these, however, we must add another of far more potent -influence. The inchoate mediaeval nations were only emerging from a state -of barbarism; and the associations of that barbarism still tenaciously -clung to them in the gloomy superstitions common among northern nations, in -cruel ordeals, in internecine warfare, in the whole texture of their social -and national traditions. The causes referred to by Mr. Mill were in -operation almost as much in the civilization of Greece and Rome as in the -middle ages; but this circumstance, which is one on which we need not -dilate, increased, and must have increased, to an enormous extent the -activity of the tendencies on which be remarks. If indeed, there were two -nations exactly alike in every particular, except that the one believed -eternal punishment and set small store by pain, so as severely and even -barbarously to punish offenses, while the other did neither of these -things--we should in that case plausibly assert a direct causal connexion -between holding the eternity of future punishment and a hardness and -callousness of temper. But we cannot argue in this free and easy manner, -where the instances from which we have to make our induction are so -multifariously different as are the social condition of the present day and -the social condition of mediaeval times. We must not thus arbitrarily -single one from out of a multitude of causes. Reasoning from the known -principles of human nature, we can say with all confidence that the causes -just enumerated must have operated, and operated very powerfully, to -produce many and severe punishments, the carelessness for and of suffering, -the trials by ordeal and by torture, which existed at the period of which -we write. And thus we also see that those representations of the torments -of the lost, on which Mr. Lecky expends such a vast amount of rhetoric, -must have produced these effects immeasurably less than they would now -produce; far more powerful means had to be resorted to then to produce an -amount of feeling for which gentler methods now suffice. - -Nor has Mr. Lecky fairly represented the doctrine of eternal punishment in -itself. To contemplate the infliction of pain naturally produces, he says, -a callousness and hardness of feeling. This statement embodies only a half -truth, and the reasoning founded on it is in the highest degree fallacious. -When the Catholics of ancient times contemplated the anguish of the lost, -the habits which they endeavoured to form were habits of horror for the sin -which entailed that anguish. There is a great difference between thus -actively contemplating suffering, and beholding it merely in a passive -manner, and with a view to some other end. The surgical operator, the -public executioner, the soldier, who look at it in this latter light, may -and do in time become hardened and indifferent. But it is far otherwise in -the former case; and there is a great difference between reflecting on the -pains of others, and reflecting on the pains which may one day be our own. -It is reasonable and natural to suppose, and is found to be in reality the -case, that one who contemplates the sufferings of others merely and purely -as of others, and habitually avoids referring them in any way to himself, -will in the end become hard and cruel. -{90} -But the very essence of sympathy consists in an unconscious association of -ourselves with others in their sufferings. The Calvinist, therefore, the -believer in "assurance," who fancies himself to be one of the elect, and -from his security safely thinks of all the torments of the reprobate as -things in which it would be sinful for him even for a moment to imagine -that he can have part, may but grow callous at the thought of hell--may -even delight to think of it, and revel in the representation of the anguish -there. But such a spirit is altogether opposed to the whole bent of -Catholic meditation on that subject. The Catholic, when he meditates on -these torments, thinks of them as of others, only that the thought may more -vividly come home to himself; he thinks of them as of what he may one day -have to endure. And again, the thought of our own personal suffering can -make us hard and firm only when we consider it as a thing not to be -avoided, but to be braved. It is almost a truism to say, that those men are -of all the most soft and timid, who are continually representing to -themselves means of escape from vividly imagined dangers. And no Catholic -would meditate on these torments that he might nerve himself to brave them, -but that he might seek means to avoid them. Catholics, of course, accept, -on the ground of God's Word, that awful doctrine of our faith which we are -now contemplating. So far as they argue for it from reason at all, they say -that this doctrine is the necessary sanction of the moral law; and the -force of that argument will be felt by none more strongly than by Catholics -themselves, who, from holding the existence both of a future temporal and -of a future eternal punishment for sin, are better able to judge what -effects would be likely to be produced, if hell were, in the common -teaching, resolved into a kind of purgatory. But it must never be forgotten -that in the Catholic religion the doctrine of eternal punishment, is taught -under certain accompanying conditions, which intimately affect its -practical bearing. The first of these conditions is the doctrine of -purgatory, of which M. Comte thus speaks: - - Il serait facile de reconnaître que l'institution, si amèrement - critiquée, du purgatoire fut, au contraire, très-heureusement introduite, - dans la pratique sociale du Catholicisme, à titre d'indispensable - correctif fondamental de l'eternité des peines futures; oar, autrement, - cette éternité, sans laquelle les prescriptions religieuses ne pouvaient - être efficaces, eût évidemment déterminé souvent ou un relâchement - funeste, ou un effroyable désespoir, égalemeut dangereux l'un et l'autre - pour l'individu et pour la société, et entre lesquels le génie Catholique - est parvenu à organiser cette ingénieuse issue, qui permettait de graduer - immédiatement, avec une scrupuleuse précision, l'application effective du - procédé religieux aux convenances de chaque cas réel. [Footnote 28] - - [Footnote 28: Philosophie Positive, vol. v. p. 269 (Ed. 1864).] - -In reading this quotation, it must be remembered that M. Comte was not a -Catholic, and regarded the Catholic Church as merely a human institution. -But, the truths to which that unhappy thinker here draws attention, are so -evident, that they hardly require proof. If the sole future punishment of -sin be believed to be an eternal punishment, such as is that of hell, it is -not difficult to perceive what effects will follow. The timid, and those -who are naturally religiously minded, will form a gloomy and austere notion -of religion, which will produce some of the effects noted by Mr. Lecky, and -in the end, by provoking a necessary reaction, work the destruction of all -religion whatever. Those, on the contrary, who are irreligiously inclined, -will be still further moved to give up all ideas of religion as -impracticable, and will be disgusted by its tone and spirit; while the -doctrine of eternal punishment will lose its force by being applied to -light and trivial offences. - -But we must also notice another condition of the realization of this -doctrine; which is provided in the Catholic system; and which, like that of -purgatory, has been rather neglected by Protestantism. -{91} -It has been noticed by some writers that the sacramental system of the -church provides an admirable safeguard, and one in an especial manner -necessary in the middle ages, against outbreaks of fanaticism. According to -the teaching of the Catholic Church, the sacraments are the great means, -channels, and conditions of grace. And this produces a system and an order, -a definite method of procedure in the spiritual life, which, assisted by -the ascetical and mystical theology so minutely cultivated, abundantly -directs enthusiasm and represses fanaticism. And we do not doubt that if -Protestantism, with its doctrine of private judgment and private direction, -had been the form of Christianity existing in the middle ages, Christianity -would have sunk into a condition of which paganism and the Gnostic heresies -alone afford a parallel. But this sacramental system has also another, -though a co-ordinate effect. Grace is insensible and unfelt, to confound it -with the natural religious feelings and emotions is to make religion no -longer a discipline and a duty, but a sentiment. And because it is unfelt, -it is necessary that it should ordinarily be given through some external -and sensible rite, in order to ward off undue and pernicious doubt and -anxiety. Now, according to Catholic teaching, while, on the one hand, it is -impossible for any one to know with absolute certainty what is his -spiritual state before God; on the other hand, the doctrine of confession -and absolution supplies all with a means of knowing, with a greater of less -amount of probability, what their real condition is. On the morally -beneficial tendency of the first part of this teaching it is unnecessary to -dilate, and any scrupulosity or vain terror which, if it stood alone, it -might excite, is amply provided against by the second. And thus, through -the correlative doctrines of purgatory, of the consequent distinction -between mortal and venial sins, of confession and absolution, and by means -of its moral theology, Catholicism provides that the doctrine of eternal -punishment shall press with greater or less force, exactly as its influence -is more or less required. It does not leave the believer to the diseased -imaginations of his own mind, but provides an external code to which he -must submit, and an external direction by which he will be guided. It -provides a means by which he may know whether he is or is not in a state of -sin, and a definite remedy whereby he may extricate himself from it; while -it holds out a hope of salvation to all, and teaches that no man ever -existed whose case was so desperate that he could not, if he co-operated -with grace, as he has the power of co-operating, look for pardon. With the -heretical sects the case is widely different. The very name of Calvinism -calls up associations on which it would be painful to dwell. The -conjunction of the doctrines of eternal punishment and necessitarianism -must always, even where these doctrines are but to a very inadequate extent -realized, produce a type of religious thought and feeling as repulsive as -it is degrading. Of this it would be superfluous to speak. But -Protestantism repudiates the practice of confession and the doctrine of -absolution. Then, indeed, wherever the eternity of punishment was realized, -it produced a diseased and unhealthy state of mind. Anxiety, doubt, terror, -were necessarily the predominating feelings in the minds of men; an anxiety -which could be calmed no longer now that there was no confessional, and a -doubt which admitted of no direction now that each man had to be almost -entirely his own counsellor, while all were faltering and divided as to the -"direction of the ways of life." The "doctrine of final assurance" was, -indeed, put forward to remedy the evil. But that doctrine only served to -aggravate it. For to one class of minds it only supplied a new cause of -terror; and to another it gave a very fruitful occasion of cultivating a -disposition perhaps the most detestably proud, callous, and selfish, which -has ever appeared among mankind. - -{92} - -We must not, however, be supposed to deny that, through causes the -character of which may partially be gathered from the preceding remarks, -the doctrine of eternal punishment was very prominent in the middle ages. -And how, it will be asked, did the church of those ages meet this -extraordinary prominence? To have met it by merely insisting on the -blessedness of heaven, would obviously have been most inadequate. Our -natural constitution, and the circumstances of our life here, are such that -our ideas of happiness, and especially of permanent happiness, are, as it -has often been urged, far less definite and far less acute than our ideas -of pain; and for this reason it has been wisely brought about that what has -been made known to us of the blessedness of heaven is far less definite and -complete, than is what we know of the punishment of the wicked. But for -this very reason, the prominence of the doctrine of their eternal -punishment could not be efficaciously met by insisting on this blessedness. -But there is another set of ideas and feelings directly opposed to the -despair and unmitigated fear which would be produced by the sole -contemplation of the torments of the lost; and it is a set of ideas and -feelings which nowhere find so natural a home as in Catholicism. From the -manner in which the doctrine of the Incarnation is dwelt on in the Catholic -system, and from the consequently almost human character which is given to -the love of God and to the contemplation of the divine perfections as set -forth in Christ, there results an ardor, an intensity, an active continuity -of that love, which is simply incomprehensible to those who are external to -the machinery of the Catholic Church. If it be asked, then, how did the -church of those times meet the extraordinary, development of the doctrine -we have been considering, the answer is patent to the most superficial -reader of the mediaeval saints and theologians. They met it by an, at -least, equal development of the doctrine of divine love. St. Bernard, Hugo -of St. Victor, St. Anselm, all especially breathe in their works this sweet -and devout spirit. The writings of St. Bernard, and those passages of such -exquisitely tender devotion which occur in the writings of St. Augustine, -became, in particular, the texts on which succeeding writers expanded and -dilated. A spirit of meekness and tenderness of devotion, an intense and -fervid love of God, are the themes on which they peculiarly delight to -dwell, and the virtues on which they peculiarly love to insist. It was this -age that produced the Imitation; toward the close of it appeared the -Paradisus Animae: and whoever was the actual author of the former work, it -possesses remarkable affinity with the spirit and even the style of Gerson. -Nor was this temper of mind confined to purely mystical writers. The -writings of St. Francis of Assisi, of St. Bridget, St. Catherine of Sienna, -and others, attest, indeed, that the type of sanctity was, in some sense, -changing under its influence; but it passed on to the great theological -teachers of the age. St. Thomas of Aquino, the best and greatest of them -all, lived and struggled in the very midst of the conflict with infidelity -which was then agitating the church, and yet even he found time to write a -number of short spiritual treatises which display the most tender and the -most delicate devotion. This is especially seen in his book De Beatitudine. -Richard of St. Victor wrote a work De Gradibus Violentae Charitatis, "On -the degrees of violent charity." St. Bonaventure received the name of "The -Seraphic Doctor" from the ardor of his piety; the titles of a few of his -works--De Septem Itineribus AEternitatis, Stimulus Amoris, Amatorium, -Itinerarium Mentis ad Deum--will be sufficient to show its character. The -tender and loving spirit which those great doctors manifested in their -devotion, broke out also in their correspondence with their friends, as may -be perceived even from the extracts from the letters and sermons of certain -of them which the Count de Montalembert has inserted in his Monks of the -West. -{93} -Other momenta of a more general nature show the operation of the same -tendency. For the first time detailed lives of our blessed Lord came into -general circulation. Devotion to the passion assumed a far more prominent -position than before; of the spirit which animated it we have a most -touching example in the little book attributed to St. Juliana of Norwich. -The Canticle of Canticles suddenly took a place in the affections of the -pious, which even in the primitive church it had never known. St. Bernard -composed on it his celebrated Sermones super Cantica, St. Bonaventure and -Richard of St. Victor both wrote commentaries on it; St. Thomas has left us -two, and it was while dictating the second of these that he passed out of -this world, celebrating the blessedness of divine love. Nor can we -altogether omit to notice three devotions, two of which certainly exercised -a very considerable influence. In an age in which the spirit of love and -devotion to our blessed Lord had assumed such large proportions, in which -the doctrine of the Incarnation was for the first time completely treated -in a scientific manner, and in which the subject of original sin was more -profoundly investigated, and the questions concerning the Immaculate -Conception consequently began to be cleared up and to assume a definite -form and coherence, it was natural that a great devotion should manifest -itself to our Blessed Lady. And of the tendency and the effects of this -devotion Mr. Lecky has himself spoken. The character of the devotion to St. -Joseph, also, is sufficiently well known, and it was first, we believe, -treated at length by Albertus Magnus. Devotion to the Blessed Sacrament was -to an indefinite extent stimulated by the institution of the Feast of -Corpus Christi; and it, of a truth, is a devotion which of all others -breathes a spirit of tenderness and of love. - -We can now only make a few concluding remarks. We have already given a -general estimate of the work, on a few points of which we have here -touched; for we considered it better to speak of two or three connected -subjects more fully, than to distract ourselves and our readers by flying -comments on the many and very diverse subjects there treated. We have only -explicitly to add what we have before implied, that we consider it a very -dangerous book. It is all the more dangerous, because Mr. Lecky is not a -furious fanatic; because of his spurious candor; because of his partial -admissions; because of his engaging style. And in an age like the present, -when the dogmatic principle is so bitterly attacked by those without, and -sits so lightly on the necks even of believers, it is exceedingly -dangerous. For, as was to be expected, it sets the dogmatic principle -utterly at defiance, and from beginning to end is a continued protest -against it. Mr. Lecky's idea of education, and his theory of the manner of -formation of religious opinions, are alike thoroughly opposed to it. In -education he would have the bare principles of morality only, as far as -possible, inculcated; dogma, as far as possible, excluded; and if any -amount of dogmatic teaching is unavoidably admitted, it is to be taught -only so as to rest as lightly as possible on the mind, and with the proviso -that the opinions then taught will have to be reconsidered in after life. -With respect to the formation of religious opinions, his book teaches a -kind of Hegelianism. Society is continually changing, and the best thing we -can do is to follow the most advanced minds in society. There is an -everlasting process, in which we can never be sure that we have definitely -attained to the truth. The end of this, of course, is to make all opinions -uncertain. We may know what we like best, or what the tendencies of society -incline it and us to believe; but we can never, as to religious opinions, -know what is objectively true. - -{94} - -It is not very difficult to discover what is the nature of this process -which is called rationalism. In former times the religious spirit -predominated over the secular; but from a variety of causes, and in -particular on account of the immense development of secular science since -the time of Bacon and Descartes, the secular scientific spirit has since -predominated over the religious. And rationalism is merely one of the -results of this predominance; a consequence of the application to religious -subjects of secular habits of thought. This may manifest itself, now in one -way, now in another; in the denial now of transubstantiation, now of the -doctrine of the Trinity; but its root and origin is the same: it tends (and -this quite takes the romance out of it) to the elimination of the religious -ideas, and it is strengthened by whatever strengthens what we have called -the secular scientific, or weakens the religious, spirit. Hence that -dislike of authority and that over-clouding of the moral character of -religious truth; hence that distaste for the miraculous and the mysterious, -and that tendency to put into the background, and even to deny, the -doctrine of grace; and if the internal wants of those who have just -"escaped from the wilderness of Christianity, and still have some of the -thorns and brambles sticking to their clothes," make it necessary that -something should be substituted for that which is being taken away--a -baseless and often unreal sentimentalism is substituted for honest -religious duty and earnest devotion. It is only too much to be feared that -the world will educate itself out of this also; and that, in the case of -those who refuse submission to the Catholic Church, the secular spirit will -more and more grow toward its full ascendancy, and therefore toward a total -extinction of the already weakened religious ideas. - -------- - - Original. - - A DREAM. - - - A procession passed by in my fitful dreams, - So strange that it now like a nightmare seems. - I beheld a long line of wifeless men - Whom their living wives might claim again. - And widows and orphans who never gave - Husband or parent up to the grave. - In the hands of each of this motley train - Was a broken heart and a broken chain: - And a veil hung down over every face - Hiding the shame of a deep disgrace. - A figure they bore on a funeral bier, - Of a form that belonged to another sphere. - Not a line of humanity could I trace - In its ghastly, shadowy, hideous face. - From its jaws came a noisome, poisonous breath, - That hung o'er the bier like the mist of death; - Then spread like a pestilence through the air, - And husbands and wives standing here and there - -{95} - - Its magical circle of mischief within-- - Opened their mouths and sucked it in. - Then, straightway, like beasts, grovelled prone in the dust, - Burning with jealousy, anger, and lust. - I marvelled to see as I looked again - All these were now widows and wifeless men. - In their hands, like those in the funeral train, - Was the broken heart and the broken chain. - And as the strange throng passed hurriedly by, - They chanted this dirge with a savage cry: - - Dig its grave deep. - Hide it well out of sight, - Lest it come to the light, - And our hearths and homes smite - With a curse and a blight. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - Lest its treacherous smile - May our reason beguile; - Lest its rottenness vile - May the nation defile. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - For lust and for gold - It has bartered and sold - All that dearest we hold; - Let its death-knell be tolled. - Dig its grave deep, - - Dig its grave deep. - The land has been rife - With its bloodshed and strife - Between husband and wife. - Crush, crush out its life. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - It has stood by the side. - Of bridegroom and bride - Whom it meant to divide, - And their troth falsified. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - It feedeth on lies. - It breaketh all ties; - And all innocence dies - 'Neath the glance of its eyes. - Dig its grave deep. - -{96} - - Dig its grave deep. - 'Tis an offspring of shame - Deserving no name; - From the devil it came, - To return to the same. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - 'Tis a curse and a bane: - Its touch is profane; - And brings sorrow and pain - In its murderous train. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - 'Tis a damning disgrace - To a people or race, - Who there nature abase - To give this thing place. - Dig its grave deep. - - Dig its grave deep. - Pile earth, rocks, and stones - On its festering bones: - Naught for it atones: - Hell its parentage owns. - Dig its grave deep. - - As I looked once again on what funeral bier, - My limbs became rigid through horror and fear; - For the hideous form breathed its breath in my face, - And spreading its arms to invite an embrace, - Beckoned me on with an ominous nod; - I cried, Fiend, avaunt! in the name of God! - And awoke.--On that bier I had seen the foul corse - Of the scourge of our country, THE LAW OF DIVORCE. - -{97} - - Original. - - A Talk About Paris. - By An Old Bachelor. - -So much has been said, written, thought, and exaggerated about Paris, that -little remains to be said, written, thought, or exaggerated about it. -Still, keeping clear of the broad road reserved to guide-books and -travellers, I flatter myself that a comfortable, easy chat about it and its -inhabitants, may not be unwelcome to my friends across the broad Atlantic. - -If you hope some day to visit this great city--and what American does not -cherish that hope?--pray that that day may not be made a dark one by the -unceasing rain, and slippery, sloshy mud, which often usher in the winter. -No place so wretched as Paris in the rainy season; elsewhere one may make -up one's mind philosophically to india rubbers, umbrellas, and the blues, -but here it seems a sort of personal insult when the sun does not shine, -and brighten the long rows of while houses. Was not Paris made for -enjoyment, light-heartedness, and sunshine? At this season, it is not -unfrequent to hear visitors, with a grave shake of the head, declare that -they are really quite disappointed; that it is not at all what they had -expected, and that other places are much more interesting. They quarrel -with the emperor for his great work of regenerating and beautifying the -Paris of crooked, narrow, but picturesque memory. The changes he has -wrought are indeed marvellous; and though he may well grumble at the -wholesale destruction of old places, and also at the discomfort attendant -on constant pulling down and building up, yet the unprejudiced traveller -cannot but stand amazed at all that has been done during one man's reign, -and also feel a certain degree of gratitude for the comfort of wide, -well-paved streets, and well-built modern houses. - -My first visit to Paris was some twenty years ago, when I was sent on my -travels, before settling down to a hum-drum law office. I remember well -many quaint nooks and corners, which I look for in vain now. Among other -places, I see in my mind's eye a certain queer old tavern restaurant, famed -for its English dishes, its gray-haired waiters, and its cheapness; it -stood in Rue St. Lazarre, at the head of the Chaussée d'Antin, a wide and -populace thoroughfare. Here, escaping from my establishment "de garçon" -hard by, I used to find myself at about six o'clock waiting for my slice of -"Ros bif." Well I remember the old room, with its comfortable half light, -and white-covered tables; well, too, do I remember the old gentleman who -invariably took the cosiest nook, and secured the paper over which he -invariably dozed; and the student of medicine who carved his chicken with a -skill that made my blood run cold. But more vividly than all do I remember -a young countryman of mine, an artist, with his English wife, a young -girlish creature, who particularly interested me; they seemed so happy, -made so light of that hard struggle with poverty--which so often turns the -strength of young men to despair, and the love of young wives to sourness-- -that I made an effort, notwithstanding my shyness, to become acquainted -with them. We have been friends ever since, and as I write, the young -artist, having conquered in the battle of life, is both known and respected -in his native country; as to his wife, though she certainly is no longer -girlish, she is as merry as ever, surrounded by her bevy of grown and -growing daughters. - -{98} - -Remembering all these things, one of my first excursions was to this place, -hoping to live these memories over again, and thereby perhaps to feel young -once more. But I looked in vain; on the very spot where the humble -restaurant stood, towers at this moment a beautiful new church, with wealth -of statues and ornaments; it is called "La Ste. Trinité," and is the pride -of the neighborhood. But I looked at its highly decorated white façade with -a feeling of disappointment. I should so have liked another slice of that -famed "Ros Bif!" Everybody has heard about the boulevards of Paris, -encircling the city, and intersecting it in every direction, giving it -fresh air and beauty. Every one, too, has heard of the straight new -avenues, radiating from the Arc de Triomphe like rays from a sun, and of -the manifold new streets which have swallowed up so many old ones; and, -above all, of the wonderful opera house, which stands just opposite Rue de -la Paix, and which is to be one of the wonders of the world. I have heard -and read that it is almost finished, therefore conclude that it is my own -want of perceptive powers which makes it still appear to me like a huge, -uniform mass; lately, however, through the breaks in the scaffolding I have -perceived parts nearly finished, with ornaments of color and white marble, -and from these glimpses I conclude that when the time comes, I shall be -able to indulge in the ecstasies of admiration expected from all beholders -of this mammoth enterprise. - -But all this is not Paris, Paris of olden times, of history; it is -beautiful, but it is terribly new, and the old fogies of the Faubourg St. -Germain, emerging from their narrow streets, shake their heads at the broad -new avenues, with their unmitigated straightness and meaningless -uniformity. - -The other night I went to hear a play now much in vogue, called La Maison -Neuve, a capital satire on this "Nouveau Paris," and full of local hits. -But why should I attempt to tell you anything about it? Americans know -everything about everything, and probably while you are reading this, The -New House is figuring in large letters on the play bills at Wallack's, and -managers "out West" are conning over the possibilities of adapting this -nice little tid-bit of novelty to their stage. All the French shading, all -the palpable hits, will, alas! be made limpingly to apply to New-York, -Chicago, St. Louis, etc. We are a great people, there is no doubt; but do -we not, sometimes, in our great hurry to be ahead of everybody else, make -little mistakes? In a recent conversation with some French friends, I -mentioned that La Famille Benoiton was figuring East and West. "Mais -comment! how can they understand it? even Frenchmen, if not Parisians, -would have difficulty! mais c'est impayable." I quietly replied that we -were a great nation, which is a convenient answer on many occasions; but -between ourselves, is it not a pity that we do not aim at a little -originality? that we must ape Paris quite so much? - -But, to return to La Maison Neuve. It was hissed at first, its satire was -perhaps a little too piquant; but some of the thorns being removed, it -blooms in glory, and Frenchman clap furiously at the merciless cutting up -of Boulevard Malesherbes, and the upstart fashions of young France. From -what I have seen and observed, I fancy the play is an exaggerated, but on -the whole a tolerably faithful picture of modern French life, with its want -of depth, its tinsel, its sham, and its immorality. But let us leave the -theatre--though the charming, light, natural acting, which we heavier -Americans cannot imitate, make it wonderfully attractive--in turn once more -to Paris streets. - -{99} - -After all, life is not in the houses, or rather slices of houses, which -people call apartments, but in the streets. At this season, one does not -feel astonished at it; every body, even the rheumatic old bachelor, feels -tempted to leave the smoky chimney--why do French chimneys always -smoke?--and wander up and down peering into all the shop windows, with -their wealth of beautiful things, tempting one to buy a Christmas or New -Year's gift for every body under the sun. We must acknowledge that our -cousins of France have a most wonderful art of displaying their merchandise -to the best advantage. Did anyone ever imagine anything more seductive than -a French confectioner's? It is really dangerous to pass the establishments -of Boissier and others on the Boulevard, with their beautiful display of -boxes, caskets, vases, and quaintly dressed figures of grand ladies, etc., -all filled with delicious bonbons. As to the toys, there is positive genius -displayed in these pleasures of a moment; indeed, these shop-keepers are -not only artists, they are satirists. Approach, dear ladies, look at these -dolls, and sigh for fashion, if you can; these unimaginable gew-gaws, these -extraordinarily long robes, which give the dear creatures the appearance of -being half on the floor, and half above it, these--these ... but I lack the -milliner vocabulary, or I would stun you with the etceteras; then the turn -of the head, the stare through the miniature eye-glass, and the little -curly dog led by a ribbon! Messieurs the shop-keepers! I bow to you, you -are greater satirists even than those sharp-penned writers of a certain New -York literary review. - -The other day, having reached the upper part of the Boulevard, near the -Porte St. Dennis, I could not but stop and gaze down that long stream of -human life which lay before me; not a particle of the pavement was to be -seen, nothing but a living mass of bustling, pushing, quarreling humanity. -All classes, all ages, almost all countries, were there. Men in blouses. -and men in broad-cloth; beggars and nobles; innocent children, and men with -the inevitable marks of an ill-spent life on care-worn faces; silk attired -dames, and white-capped _bonnes_; loud-voiced ladies with unimaginable -boots, and the shortest possible walking dresses; anxious mothers trying in -vain to keep their excited little ones from running against portly -gentlemen, or loaded _commissionaires_. Fancy all this, with a Babel -of German, Italian, Spanish, and much more frequent English, with the noise -of street organists and Italian harpists, the screaming of itinerant -merchants, the dashing of carriages, the swearing of drivers, and you will -have some idea of the scene. As I stood in a sheltered nook observing, I -could not but think of Kribble Krabble, Hans Andersen's philosopher, who -showed his friend what seemed to be a city full of fighting, devouring -monsters, in a drop of water. I wonder if from those quiet stars, so calm -and pure, this busy scene does not also appear like that drop of ditch -water; whether some beings gifted with a penetrating vision denied to us, -do not see into the true natures of this elbowing host, and weep over the -monsters of cruelty, of cunning, of hypocrisy, of degradation -disclosed--inevitable adjuncts of a large city. Let us look again; we, less -gifted, see only beings one much like the other, all seemingly busy in -enjoying the gay scene around them, eagerly prying into the glittering -shops, or passing quickly by the thousand booths that during Christmas week -transform the street into a real Vanity Fair. They laugh, chat, seem happy, -and surely to be happy one must be innocent! Let us believe them so; let us -pass on, brushing by yon gaudily dressed woman, yon sinister-eyed man, and -thank heaven that we are not cursed with the magical glass of Kribble -Krabble. After all, do not those slashing satirists do more harm than good, -in bringing so vividly to the light of day things that might as well be -kept in the background? Is it not better philosophy to shut one's eyes to -much that passes around one, at this season especially, for it is Christmas -time, when there should be peace on earth? - -{100} - -Speaking of Christmas, reminds me to speak of the churches, which I have as -yet neglected. Paintings, engravings, and photographs have already made the -outside of these churches familiar to you, therefore I will not dwell on -that branch of the subject. Notre Dame, grand old Gothic Notre Dame, is on -an island in the Seine. It seems to look down, in its grandeur, on both old -and new Paris. On one side it seems sadly to recall the bloody memories of -years gone by; the rise and downfall of dynasties; the rise and downfall of -families still sheltered in the old streets of the old St. Germain quarter; -the death of the old _régime_, the breaking of hearts. On the other -hand, it seems to frown on gorgeous new Paris; on the beautiful panorama of -buildings along the bank of the river, the Tuileries, the Louvre, the Hotel -de Ville, etc., and beyond these, scores of new white buildings, and the -ruins of others, comparatively new, which are to give place to still finer -ones. The old church, with its quaintly carved monsters and old towers, -seems to stand as a warning of the time that is to come, when all these -great works of man shall be but vanity, and as chaff. This is a solemn -church, as it should be, and gloom seems to dwell in its lofty arches. - -It is the Madeleine, the beautiful, bright Madeleine, which seems to be the -favorite church of the Parisians. It was here that, with great difficulty, -I found a seat on Christmas morning. As I entered the services had begun, -and a beautifully clear boy's voice was holding a high note, while a full -orchestral band was playing the accompaniment. The church was crowded, and -I noticed that a great many Protestants, both English and American, were -present. I have heard much and read much of the impropriety and want of -respect evinced by these in sacred places, but, except for a little more -staring, and perhaps some little more whispering, their conduct, as far as -I could observe, did not differ essentially from that of their Catholic -neighbors. In these large churches there is always an amount of bustle, and -a want of reverence, which, to an American Catholic, is, I confess, very -shocking. The constant coming in and going out is occasioned, in some -degree, by the fact that often, during high mass, several low masses are -going on at the side altars; but still the want of reverence evinced by -numbers and numbers of these French Catholics, is a fact too apparent to be -denied. I do not mean to say that I have not observed many who seemed to -realize what was going on before them, but most of these had "old -_régime_" written on their faces. With young France it is the fashion -to doubt, to scoff, or to be utterly indifferent, and who dares to disobey -fashion? But let us return to the ceremony. - -The altar of this famed church has often been described. The marble group -above it is singularly beautiful, it represents Mary Magdalen, supported by -angels; the figures are of heroic size, and of the purest white marble. At -this altar ministered a large number of golden-robed priests, surrounded by -a bevy of boys in scarlet and white. Had I, too, been a Protestant, -ignorant of the deep and holy meaning hidden under these symbols, and -seeing in them but the glitter of gold and rich colors, I dare say I -should, like them, have pronounced it but a gorgeous show, a theatrical -display; as it was, my thoughts flew eagerly back to a certain well -remembered chapel across the Atlantic, where I had often assisted at the -same ceremony performed with a simplicity and devotion which contrasted -pleasingly with this grand high mass at the Madeleine. Persecution and -poverty are wonderful safeguards to the virtue of man; they are, perhaps, -also necessary to the perfection of churches. Religion--faith--must always -remain pure, but the professors thereof may easily be influenced by the -accidents of wealth and splendor. -{101} -While making these reflections, and indoctrinating myself with charity -toward our Protestant brethren, the mass went on, and the really beautiful -music filled the lofty church. But there was something discordant to my -ears in the harmony of the violins and brass instruments; to my mind the -organ alone, that most holy of instruments, is worthy of ministering to the -service of God. Still, the music was beautiful, and after all true music is -always sacred; and when at the elevation the loud instruments held their -breath, and a rich barytone voice alone was heard, I had to confess that, -whatever its surroundings, religion and religious spirit are always to be -found by him who really seeks them. - -Remember, also, that I have been talking of the Madeleine, which is -essentially the worldly church of Paris. At St. Roch, situated in Rue St. -Honoré, and from whose steps the blood-thirsty crowd jeered at Marie -Antoinette as she was being led to the Place de la Concorde, where stood -the awful guillotine; at Notre Dame de Lorette, and many others, there is -less glitter, less parade, and apparently more devotion. At St. Roch, the -beautifully trained choir of boys, and the good music given, attract many -Protestants; still the feeling of the church is more Catholic than that of -the Madeleine. Here, as elsewhere, I was struck by the vast number of -priests in the sanctuary. I thought of our own overworked, faithful -priests, and could not help wondering whether a little of their hard work -would not be good for those before me. - -As I look over what I have written I find that there is no small amount of -grumbling and fault-finding in the foregoing pages; I smile to myself as I -discover that I have fallen into the little peculiarity which I have so -often noticed in my countrymen and countrywomen in Paris: that of finding -fault. No American, or Englishman either, whom you may question, will utter -ten words on the subject, without abusing the French. "There's no trust to -be put in them; they are a lying, mean set," are among the mildest -accusations poured forth; and there certainly is some truth in the charges. -Americans, with the people at large, are a flock of rich fools, sent over -by their lucky stars, on purpose to be fleeced; consequently all the -tradespeople you employ, your servants and their ally the _concierge_, -invariably ask you about double as much as they would ask a Frenchman, and -laugh at you while pocketing your gold. The art of cheapening things, so -well understood by the people here, is a new experience to you. You do not -like to walk into a handsome shop and offer half the price asked for an -article, you are not accustomed to it, feel awkward; all of which the wily -shopman sees well enough, and, of course, you end by giving the price -required. But that French lady next to you, so handsomely dressed, does not -hesitate an instant; you think she at least would have disdained that art -of the _bourgeoisie_; not a bit of it; she insists, the clerk, bowing -much more respectfully than he did to you, wraps up the article, and the -lady sails out in triumph. - -But for all this, Americans seem to find wondrous charms in this city, and -prolong their stay for one month to two, then to six, and not unfrequently -rush back to New York, settle up their affairs, and return to live here -permanently, despising the French more and more every year, of course! At -this present moment, if all our countrymen and countrywomen, now residing -here, were suddenly transplanted to the western prairies, they would form -quite a respectable sized city, which would, according to the invariable -western custom, begin to defy its sister cities to show a bigger figure -when the census came to be taken. But I fancy very few of these Americans, -if the question were put to them, would be willing thus to be transported -for the good of their country. We are undoubtedly a very patriotic people; -but we believe, most devoutly, that charity begins at home. -{102} -Among these same countrymen of ours I notice the names of a number of -well-known artists, who, I understand are well thought of in the artistic -world. It is pleasant to hear them praised by our cousins of France, but I -cannot help thinking that America, still so young in art, can ill spare her -gifted children. - -Talking of artists, let me tell you of a sad little incident that came -under my own observation. We are all dimly conscious that poverty, -sometimes in its direst aspect, harasses the beginning or nearly all artist -lives. We have heard that N., whose beautiful picture drew crowds at the -last exhibition, and who cannot fulfil all the commissions that pour in -upon him--that the same man, not many years ago, might have starved but -for the aid of his fellow students; we know this, but, surrounded by -comforts and luxuries, it is the hardest thing in the world to realize -poverty. We walk the streets, brush by numbers of ragged women, throw a -copper to a bare-footed little beggar, but how often do we in our thoughts -follow those poor creatures to the hovels or garrets or cellars which serve -them as homes? how little we can imagine the cold and damp which chill -their bones, or the hunger which gnaws them! Still less do we realize, I -think, that beings with the education and feelings of gentlemen, should -have to endure these same horrors. I have before my mind, as I write, the -face of a young man, an enthusiast in his art, who, while engaged on a long -dreamt-of, cherished work, found that in consequence of the war in America, -the supplies on which he had calculated gave out. What to do? abandon his -work, his career perhaps? return beggared to his native western town, -without the promised work which was to show that his time had not been -wasted? Never, better starve! and starve he actually would have done, but -for the help of a student friend, almost as poor as himself, who shared his -daily loaf with him; and so the young man finished his picture, took it -over to America, where artists who saw it, seeing that it showed more than -ordinary talent, bestirred themselves, and making up a sufficient sum, sent -the young man back to his studies, feeling sure that the world would hear -of him some day. But I am wondering, let us return to Paris, and to the -incident which I was about to relate. - -Some few weeks ago I was invited to dinner by some friends settled here for -the winter. The meeting was a pleasant one, and I left the brilliantly -lighted, handsome rooms with a pleasing glow over me, a reflection perhaps -from the good cheer which both mind and body had enjoyed. As I was passing -the inevitable _concierge_ lodge, the Cerberus kennel of every French -house, I was stopped by the sound of plaintive voice, and looking around I -saw a little girl, a child of some ten years, pleading evidently for some -great favor with the gruff _concierge_ himself, who, notwithstanding -all his decided negative shakes of the head, seemed to be struggling with a -certain degree of pity. The child was wretchedly dressed, and her little -hands were blue with cold, but in her upturned, pitifully old child's face, -there was a certain look of refinement that struck me. I approached and -asked what the matter was. - -"Ah, pardon, monsieur! it is not of my fault; orders you see must be -obeyed, and the landlord ..." - -Then he told me the story. It seemed that a month or two before he had been -a witness to the turning out from a miserable hole of a poor family; the -father called himself an artist, poor devil! his wife had a baby in her -arms, and there was a little girl. Seeing their utter distress, and -remembering a couple of miserable rooms dignified by the name of -"Appartements de garçon," but which did not let easily as they were dark -and uncomfortable, he had asked the landlord to allow them to occupy them -temporarily. -{103} -Shortly afterward the poor wife, a delicate, consumptive creature, died; -the baby did not survive her many hours, and the two were buried at the -expense of the parish, "But now it is impossible that they stay longer, the -rooms are let, and they must leave. What will you? monsieur perceives that -it is not of my fault." Monsieur feels a pang cut to his very heart. In -that same house, where such a short time since he was feasting and -laughing, a weary heart, perhaps, was breaking, and a young child -struggling with sorrow that made it old. - -I asked the man if I might be allowed to see this unfortunate artist, and I -saw the child's face brighten as she slipped from his side to mine. I took -her hand and we went up, not the broad, handsome staircase which led to my -friends' apartments, but a dingy flight of stairs at the back of the court. -I was quite out of breath when we at last reached the door of this -"appartement de garçon." The child ran in, crying out: "Papa, papa I voici -an monsieur qui vient te voir." - -A man dressed in miserable, ragged clothes, with a pitiful remnant of -gentility about him, was sitting at a rickety white wood table, his face -buried in his poor, thin hands, which I noticed were white and finely -shaped. At the sound of his child's voice be hastily got up, and seeing me, -bowed and offered me the only chair in the room, with a grace worthy of a -drawing room. I felt the tears well up to my eyes as I looked at this poor -wreck, and thought to myself how many dead hopes and dead aspirations lay -buried on that heart. I did not accept the chair, but held out my hand. -Something in the simple action, or in my face, perhaps, expressed the -sympathy I felt; it was too much for the poor man; be threw himself on the -bed sobbing convulsively; you see he was weakened by hunger and cold and -sickness. I put some money in the _concierge's_ hand, and he left us, -bowing respectfully. - -When I turned I saw that the child had thrown herself by the side of her -father; he was moaning, but the sobs had already ceased. I felt his -forehead and hands, and found that he was in a raging fever. I looked -around, the place was miserable enough, and utterly unfit to be a sick -room. The _concierge_ shall be gratified, thought I, they shall leave -to-night; and sending the little girl out for a carriage, I was left alone -with my patient. - -His face was much flushed, his eyes wild, and all my efforts to keep him -quiet were vain; I was obliged to let him talk. I soon gathered his whole -history from his incoherent words. There was nothing very new in it, it was -the old story of a respectable father, with a prejudice against the fine -arts; of a weary struggle first for fame, and then, forsooth, for bread; of -a foolish marriage with a girl as poor as himself, of children born to want -and misery, of unappreciated talent, etc. There was an unfinished picture -on the easel, and several others about the room; the poor man's eager eye -followed my movement as I looked at them, and he sank back comforted as I -praised his works. Heaven forgive, the charitable falsehoods! for that -glance sufficed to show me that I was comforting one of those wretched -beings who had just talent enough to conceive great things, without the -power of executing them, which is about the saddest of sad states. - -The child soon returned, and I caused my poor invalid to be transported to -the Hotel Dieu, until I could make some other arrangement for him; his -little girl I put under the care of an honest woman who lived hard by, -where she slept; the days she spent by her poor father's bed. That bed he -never left, the hard struggle had been too much for him; the death of his -wife and child had been too severe a blow to the weak, loving, unfortunate -man. Brain fever soon declared itself and one dark, sad December day, his -little daughter and I followed his poor coffin to the nearest cemetery. The -child was very quiet, but her tearless eyes were unutterably sad. - -{104} - -I interested my friends in the sad story, and no happy mother, as she drew -her own dear ones to her heart, refused to help this bereaved one. So, we -made up a purse for her, and the other day I took her to a good school -where she is to remain until she is old enough to support herself, poor -little orphan! As I was about to leave her, she turned and said in her -quiet, undemonstrative way, a few words which I shall not put down here, -but which caused me to turn toward the door rather quickly, and to pretend -that I had a bad cold in my head. - -This is no mere fancy sketch; I only wish it were a solitary instance. -Alas! for the poor in this great, rich, bustling, worldly city! But we must -bid adieu to it, with its delights, its wonderful sights, its wild -merriment, and its dumb misery. Adieu to it, and to you, my readers, a -happy, happy New-Year! - - -------- - - Original. - - Dr. Bacon On Conversions To The Catholic Church. [Footnote 29] - - [Footnote 29: A Roman Philosopher. A Review of an Article on - Conversion in The Catholic World. By Rev. Dr. Bacon of Yale College. - "New Englander." January, 1867.] - - -We embrace the opportunity of saying a few words on the topics of -controversy which have been started between the author of the article which -appeared in our columns on the "Philosophy of Conversion" and his -distinguished opponent; not with the view of following up the line of -attack opened by our able corresponded; but rather, in order to express our -own independent judgment, as a reviewer, on the question discussed, in some -of its important bearings. - -Minor questions and side issues we leave to the opinions of those who have -read both sides, and we do not intend to meddle with them ourselves. The -gentleman attacked by Dr. Bacon has presented his view of what -Protestantism is, reduced to its logical elements and constitutive -principles. His opponent says: "I do not recognize that which you describe -as genuine Protestantism." This is all very fair. But he proceeds to infer -that the "Roman philosopher," as he designates the author of the essay in -question, either does not know what Protestantism is, or wilfully -misrepresents it. The doctor also, in turn, attempts to make a statement of -Catholic doctrine, as it appears to his mind, when reduced to its logical -elements. We, on our part, do not recognize this as a true representation. -We might, therefore, with just as much reason recriminate upon Dr. Bacon -his own accusations. We shall not do this, however; if for no other reason, -because these mutual recriminations in controversy are useless. Those who -love the truth can have no motive for misrepresenting the belief and -opinions of any class of men. Sincere Catholics and sincere Protestants -must alike desire that the principles and grounds of both Catholicity and -Protestantism should be placed in the clearest light possible and discussed -upon their naked merits, with as little mixture as may be of questions -concerning the intellectual or moral qualifications of individuals. - -The original and genuine religion of New-England was the Calvinistic -Congregationalism of the Puritans, which still survives, with more or less -of modifications among the Orthodox Congregationalists, and has its -principal seat at New-Haven. The temper and tone of mind prevailing among -the clergy and members of this denomination place them at an extremely -remote distance from the Catholic mind, and make any interchange of thought -between the two very difficult. -{105} -With the exception of a slight movement started, without much effect that -we have ever heard of, by the learned and accomplished Dr. Woods, at -Bowdoin College, there has been no tendency in this body of the clergy to -return to any higher church principles than those of the Protestant -Episcopal denomination. It is this latter body which is the medium of -contact between the Catholic Church and the remoter Protestant bodies. It -has therefore first felt the effect of the increased inter-communication of -thought and influence between the two great divisions of Western -Christendom which is characteristic of our time. It is the hierarchical -principle, distinguishing this body from other Protestant communions, upon -which the influence of the Catholic church has been felt, and most of the -controversy has taken this principle as its starting-point. Of course, -therefore, it is in a great measure irrelevant to the question as it stands -between us and the non-episcopal communions, whether these are what is -called evangelical, or liberal, in their theology. We are disposed, -therefore, in addressing members of these communions to give the -_transeat_ to the whole Oxford controversy, and to allow them to think -what they please of the causes which have produced the current setting from -Anglicanism toward Rome. The controversy as between us has to be commenced -_de novo_, and to be carried on upon an entirely different basis. -Circumstances over which neither of us have any control, make this -controversy inevitable. We will confine ourselves, for the present, in -order to simplify the question, to the relations existing between Catholics -and Congregationalists in the State of Connecticut. We say, then, that -these relations make a controversy between us inevitable, just as much as -other circumstances and relations have made it inevitable between Anglicans -and Catholics in England and the United States. The reason of this -necessity is, that we have so many things in common, and so many points of -difference, that we cannot remain quiescent toward each other, except from -isolation in distinct communities, or from mutual apathy to the interests -of Christianity. Forty years ago, when Dr. Bacon was commencing his long -and distinguished career as a pastor in New-Haven, the question of -Catholicity had but little living and present interest for a Connecticut -theologian. It was a question of by-gone ages and distant countries. There -was not a Catholic in New-Haven, and there were few, if any, in the state, -excepting a small handful at Hartford, where the first feeble parish was -collected in a small frame church, purchased by Bishop Fenwick from Bishop -Brownell and dragged on rollers to a new site. We believe there were no -Catholics at that time in Rhode-Island; there were none in Vermont, Maine -or New-Hampshire. There were a few thousands in Massachusetts, mostly -congregated in Boston. The Bishop of Boston, whose diocese included all -New-England, had hardly half a dozen churches besides his very modest -cathedral, or more than a dozen priests. When the saintly Cheverus went to -Boston, his only cathedral was an old barn. As a matter of course, then, -the Catholic religion was looked upon merely as the religion of a few poor -immigrants, a bit of wreck from the institutions of the middle ages cast on -the New-England shore by the caprice of the waves. This habit of looking at -the matter has remained to a great extent unchanged, on account of the -almost complete social segregation of the rapidly increasing Catholic -community. That it cannot remain unchanged, however, is evident to -everyone. There are now fifty priests, one hundred congregations, four -religious orders, and a population of 75,000, belonging to the Catholic -Church in Connecticut. Although, therefore, isolation has rendered the -professors of the traditional religion of the State in a great measure -indifferent to the religion of this new element in the population, thus -far, it cannot continue; and this is apparent from Dr. Bacon's own -statements and views, as expressed in his article. -{106} -Apathy is also out of the question, especially as regards the clergy. It is -evident that the religious and moral doctrines and teachings of the pastors -of one fifth of the people of the State cannot be a matter of apathetic -indifference to anyone who takes an interest in the religious and moral -welfare of his fellow citizens. It follows then, necessarily, that the -leading clergy and theologians of the Congregational body in Connecticut -must engage with great application and industry in the study of the -Catholic system of doctrine and polity, not in second-hand works, but at -the original and authentic sources. They must pay attention also to the -cotemporary Catholic literature, both in the English and in foreign -languages. Studying and thinking on these topics, they will necessarily -write, speak, and converse upon them, and thus the same topics will engage -the attention of of all their brethren in the clerical profession, and of -the intelligent laity. We, on our part, cannot be indifferent to anything -written or spoken by men of learning and high position on the great topics -of religion. Consequently, we say, there must be controversy between us. In -point of fact, a little preliminary controversy has already commenced -between ourselves and the organ of the New-Haven literati. - -We will not indulge in any premature gratulations over victories we may -hope to gain for the Catholic cause in controversy with the -Congregationalists, or conversions which may be looked for from among their -ranks. We shall on both sides agree that the truth is likely to prevail in -the end, and that whatever conquests truth may make redound more to the -honor and advantage of the vanquished than of the victors. In expressing -our satisfaction that this controversy is inevitable, we do not intend to -indicate a desire for a _polemical_ controversy in the rigorous sense -of the word. We do not wish to see the Catholic and Protestant pulpits -waging a theological artillery duel against each other; or a violent strife -for mastery, with all the bitter, hostile feelings which it engenders, -inaugurated between the Catholic and Protestant portions of the population. -On the contrary, we have particularly in view in what we are writing at -present, to bring forward certain considerations tending in an entirely -opposite direction. We desire, so far as our humble influence extends, to -forestall controversy of the sort alluded to, and to point out what we -conceive to be the true spirit and manner in which both sides should -approach the subject of the differences which unhappily divide us. - -There are two ways in which we may carry on controversy. One way is, for -each side to place its own exclusive truth and right in the strongest -light, to affirm its doctrines in its own peculiar phraseology in the most -positive and dogmatic manner, and to take a position as far remote from -that of the other side, and as unintelligible to its opponents as possible; -moreover, to take the worst and most unfavorable view possible of the -doctrines and positions of the other side, and to impute to them all the -most extreme consequences of their principles which seem to ourselves to -follow logically from them. - -Another way, is to conduct controversy, not from the two opposite extremes -of doctrine where the differences is widest and most palpable, but from -those middle terms in which both parties agree, and in relation to which -they are intelligible to each other. From these middle terms we may proceed -to the extremes, and thus endeavor to settle the points in which we differ, -by the aid of those in which we agree. The points of difference also, may -be perhaps reduced by mutual explanations, and a substantial agreement be -proved to exist in some doctrines where there is an apparent contradiction -in the terms used to express them. - -{107} - -In point of fact, these terms of agreement are numerous, and include the -most fundamental articles of the Catholic faith. The trinity, the -incarnation, the redemption, original sin, the regenerating, sanctifying -grace of the Holy Spirit, the resurrection and eternal life; the necessity -of repentance for sin, and of good works, the canonicity of the principal -books of the Old Testament, and of all those of the New Testament, their -divine inspiration, the obligation of believing all the truths revealed by -God, even if they arc super-intelligible mysteries, on the motive of the -divine veracity; these are all doctrines and principles in which there is a -substantial agreement. Moreover, the New-Haven school has brought the -Calvinistic doctrines in those respect in which it has modified them, into -a nearer approximation to the Catholic doctrines, than they were before. In -regard to the cardinal point of justification, the difference is really -less than it would appear. Although, in the New-Haven theology, faith is -made to include what Catholics call the theological virtue of hope, yet it -includes also that which we call faith, and which the Council of Trent -defines to be the "root of all justification;" that is, a firm, explicit -belief in those revealed truths which are necessary _ex necessitate -medii_, and a belief at least implicit in all other revealed truths. As -Dr. Bacon says, it is held that faith, in order to justify, must be -accompanied by charity, or the love of God. It is our opinion, therefore, -that the New-Haven divines really hold that it is _fides formata_, or -faith informed and vivified by love which justifies, and that this doctrine -is practically preached by the Congregational clergy generally. This is -identically the Catholic doctrine. In this case and in others, the sayings -of the learned Döllinger is verified, that "Protestants and Catholics have -theologically come nearer to each other." - -Perhaps we may now be able to explain to Dr. Bacon our notion of -conversion, in a way which will make it appear not quite so repugnant to -his reason and feelings, as it is at present. In order to do this, we will -resort to an illustration, which will make our meaning plain. - -We suppose Dr. Bacon will admit that the Jews before the time of our Lord -did not generally have an explicit belief in the trinity or in the divinity -of the Messiah; and that probably the apostles, when they were first called -did not have this explicit belief; although these doctrines, especially the -latter, are really contained in the Old Testament. Nevertheless, all who -were Israelites indeed were in the state of grace, and the children of God. -Let us suppose now, the case of a pious Jew, after the ascension of our -Lord, who neither believed in Jesus as the true Messiah, nor had culpably -and wilfully rejected his claims when sufficiently proposed to him. We -suppose Dr. Bacon will admit that this good man had already saving faith, -justification, the sanctifying grace of the Holy Spirit, was spiritually -united to the universal church of which Christ is the head, and was united -therefore in faith and love with St. Peter, and all the members of the -apostolic communion. St. Peter preaches to him Jesus Christ, and he -believes his word, submits to his authority as the apostle of the Lord, is -baptized, joins himself to the Christian community, and partakes of the -communion. Let us suppose, for the sake of illustration, that this was the -case with Stephen, who became the first martyr. - -Let us now take the case of Saul of Tarsus. Without deciding positively -whether Saul was morally culpable or not, for his opposition to -Christianity, we will suppose that he was so. At the time of his going to -Damascus, he was therefore without saving faith, unjustified, destitute of -sanctifying grace, and therefore not spiritually united with the church of -Christ, and with St. Peter and his brethren. By the grace of God Saul -believes in Jesus Christ, is baptized, and openly joins the Christian -communion governed and taught by the apostles. - -{108} - -Now, in those two cases, we have instances of an interior change of the -intellect and will followed by an exterior change of ecclesiastical -relations, which is properly called a conversion to Christianity. Stephen -and Saul are treated by the apostles and elders of the church in precisely -the same manner, when they apply for baptism. Yet, in the former case, the -interior change is not a conversion of the mind from unbelief to divine -faith, or of the will from sin to the love of God. It is a conversion of -the mind from an inchoate, imperfect apprehension of the revealed object of -faith to a complete and perfect apprehension of the same object more -clearly revealed. It is a conversion of the will from an implicit -determination to submit to the rightful authority of the Messiah, to an -explicit, actual obedience to the Lord Jesus as the Son of God, the -Prophet, Priest and King of the Jews and of the Gentiles. - -In the other case, conversion included in itself the renunciation of a -proud, intellectual self-reliance which excluded the spirit of submission -to the authority of God over the mind, and the substitution of the humble, -docile habit of faith; together with a change of the will or heart from a -selfish, cruel devotion to the purely national glory of Judea to a -disinterested and divine love of God and all mankind. - -In general terms, however, we speak of conversion from Judaism to -Christianity in reference to all, who have been born and brought up Jews, -and from conviction profess their belief in Jesus Christ, without -discriminating among different persons, in regard to their subjective -state. If we should undertake to give the philosophy of this conversion, we -should probably suppose our subject to represent subjectively what we -consider to be objective Judaism, whose logical basis is a denial of the -Christ foretold in the Old Testament, and personally made known in the new, -as Jesus of Nazareth. We should correctly describe this conversion as a -surrender of the mind and will to the authority of Jesus Christ; and should -correctly say that no person was thoroughly converted into a Christian, who -merely approved of such doctrines, and practiced such precepts of Jesus -Christ as he might choose, or select, by his own personal judgment and -will; but, who did not submit his mind to all the truth which Christ has -taught, on the motive of his divine infallibility, and his will to all he -has commanded, on the motive of his divine authority. - -It is plain that Stephen must have acknowledged St. Peter as the accredited -representative of Jesus Christ, through whom he received the doctrine he -was to believe, and the precepts he was to obey, as a Christian. The New -Testament was yet unwritten, and the divine word could only be learned from -the lips or the apostles. Stephen could not, therefore, submit his mind and -will to Jesus Christ, except by submitting to their authority. Now, if this -authority has really been transmitted to the successors of St. Peter, and -to their colleagues in the episcopate, it is plain that it is by submission -to this authority that we are to submit the mind and will to Jesus Christ, -who has delegated it to them. "He that heareth you heareth me;" "As my -Father hath sent me, even so send I you," Therefore, when a person who has -not hitherto formally and explicitly recognized and submitted to this -authority, makes his submission to it, we call it a conversion, because it -betokens a real interior change of the intellect and will; accompanied by -an exterior change of ecclesiastical relations, if he has belonged to any -other visible communion before, or, if not, by the assumption of these -relations for the first time. This is without respect to his former -subjective state of interior relation to Christ and the church. If he had a -divine faith before, conversion does not include the passage from a state -of unbelief to faith. If this faith was previously vivified by charity, it -does not include the passage from a state of sin to the state or grace. -{109} -If, on the contrary, he was before an infidel, or a wilful heretic, and -destitute of charity, conversion includes both these transitions. We do not -limit the application of the word conversion to a mere interior and -exterior submission to the authority of the church. We employ it also to -designate conversion from sin, and continually preach to Catholics who are -living in sin the necessity of being converted to a holy life. We apply the -term also to a change from a tepid condition of the spiritual life to a -habit of more fervent piety. It is used as a general term to denote any -marked religious change for the better, and its specific meaning must be -determined by the connection in which it is employed. Its indiscriminate -use in denoting the act of transition from a Protestant communion to the -Catholic church does not necessarily imply that no discrimination can be -made among those who make this transition. Nor does it follow that all the -language of the writer whom Dr. Bacon criticizes, can be fully verified in -regard to all Catholic converts. Numbers of them have had from childhood a -firm faith in the principal Christian mysteries, and an habitual -determination of the will, at least for many years, to the love of God. In -such instances, what is technically called "conversion," is like what we -have supposed the conversion of Stephen to have been, the evolution of the -principle of faith and obedience into a more perfect and complete -actuation. Stephen had _fides formata_ before he was baptized, and so -have converts of the kind we are describing, _fides formata_, that is -faith which worketh by love, before their external union to the body of the -Catholic church is consummated. - -The change which takes place in a convert of this kind, is not a transfer -of mental allegiance from the word of God to the arbitrary, irresponsible -dictation of a hierarchy. It is simply an increased intelligence of the -actual contents of the word of God, and of the nature of the medium through -which the knowledge of that word is transmitted. The object of faith, upon -which the intellectual act of believing terminates, is the revealed truth -considered as revealed, or as credible on the veracity of God. The medium -or instrument is the testimony by which we are authentically informed of -the fact of revelation and of its contents. In the case supposed, the -person has received from the testimony of the Church, which reaches him -through the Christian tradition, the knowledge of the principal facts and -mysteries revealed by Jesus Christ. Having, therefore, a reasonable motive -for believing, and the aid of divine grace, he was able, when he attained -the use of reason, to elicit explicit acts of faith in the Trinity, the -Incarnation, and other doctrines sufficiently proposed to him, to exercise -continually the habit of faith, and to persevere in the same without any -lapse. In this explicit faith, or faith in actual exercise, was contained -an implicit faith in all that God has revealed, but which was not known to -the subject in an explicit manner. When he examined into that testimony -through which the doctrine of Christ had been proposed to him, he found -that his undoubting belief in that testimony contained all implicit -recognition of the infallibility of the witness, and that he must either -draw the logical conclusion, or renounce the premises. He also found that -the article of the creed, "I believe in the Holy Catholic Church," as -revealed in the Scripture, and explained by the living, concrete sense of -the primitive Christians, contains in itself the idea of infallibility. -Convinced, therefore, that the Catholic Church, together with her testimony -and instruction respecting the person of the incarnate God and Saviour, -testifies and teaches her own infallibility as a witness, teacher, and -judge of controversies, and that this doctrine is contained in the word of -God, he perceives that he must believe on the veracity of God all that the -church proposes to him as contained in the material object of faith, the -_objectum materiale quod_ of theologians. -{110} -When he is further convinced that the bishop who occupies the See of Peter, -together with his colleagues, constitutes the _ecclesia docens_, the -teaching church, and that the infallible church has, therefore, proclaimed -her doctrine in the decrees of the Council of Trent; of course, nothing -remains for him to do but to seek admission into the fold of the Catholic -Church. This act has not, however, changed the essence of his faith. The -_objectum materiale quod_ of faith need not include explicitly the -infallibility of the church, since all theologians maintain that the -knowledge of God, the Trinity, and the Incarnation, is all that is -necessary _ex necessitate medii_, or by an absolute necessity, to -saving faith; and many maintain that it is the knowledge of God as the -supernatural rewarder which is alone to be placed in this category. Nor is -the infallibility of the church included in the _objectum materiale -quo_ of faith, that is in the objective motive or determining cause of -belief, which is the veracity of God. Billuart and De Lugo may be consulted -on this point by any who wish to ascertain the germane sense of Catholic -theology. Archbishop Manning, in a letter to Dr. Pusey, on the Workings of -the Holy Spirit in the Church of England, has brought out this doctrine -with appropriate proofs and citations in a very lucid and admirable manner. -The letter can be found in the Catholic World for June, 1865. The same had -been previously done by Father Walworth, in a sermon entitled Good -Samaritans, published in the Volume of Paulist Sermons for 1864. - -The church is the medium through which the object of faith is -intellectually beheld, and the only medium. It is, therefore, impossible -for her to substitute any other material object of faith in lieu of the -true object, and equally impossible that the material object of faith -should be seen at all through any other medium. Whoever, therefore, -believes what the church proposes to his belief, necessarily believes in -the true object of faith, and whoever believes in the true object of faith -necessarily believes in it through the proposition of the church. - -The first conclusion we draw from this postulate is, that the notion of -Catholics being subject to an arbitrary authority of the hierarchy or the -pope to impose whatever articles or belief they may choose, is a pure -misapprehension. The church is a witness to the doctrines and facts once -for all revealed at her original foundation. These doctrines and facts are -on record, The testimony of the church in regard to them has been publicly -given, and she cannot retract her testimony without manifestly falsifying -her claim to be an infallible witness. As a judge of controversies, she can -only judge of controversies relating to these very facts and doctrines. -These judgments, once given, are irrevocable. They have been already -pronounced respecting all the great facts and doctrines of Christianity, -and are on record. One who submits to these judgments knows to what he is -submitting. The synopsis of all Catholic doctrine is given to him in the -decrees of the Council of Trent. Since that Council there has been but one -definition of faith made, and that was the definition of a doctrine already -universally believed before it was defined. The notion that a Catholic is -subject to capricious, arbitrary, and unlimited decrees binding his faith -is altogether chimerical. There is no room for further definitions except -in regard to certain theological questions relating to doctrines already -defined, and the practice of the church has proved how slow she is to limit -the liberty of opinion in the schools by a final decision of questions of -this kind. The argument from the tyrannical nature of church authority is -therefore a mere begging of the question in dispute between Catholics and -Protestants. If the church, as Catholics define the church, be not -infallible, her judicial decisions of doctrine are tyrannical. If she is -infallible, they are not, and do not enslave either faith or reason. -{111} -It is no tyranny over faith, to make known with unerring certainty what God -has revealed, or what is a deduction from that which he has revealed. It is -no tyranny over reason to furnish it with certain universal principles and -indisputable data, from which to make its deductions. The only real -question, therefore, respects the infallibility of the church. So far as -the great mysteries of faith which are believed by orthodox Protestants are -concerned, they must admit that the Catholic Church holds and teaches them; -is compelled by her own formal principle to hold them, because she has long -ago put on record her testimony respecting them; and can never change her -doctrine on any of these vital points. - -Our second conclusion is, that the notion of Catholic doctrine which -conceives of it as requiring one to believe that there is no true faith or -holiness outside of the visible communion of the See of Peter, is equally -erroneous. All that Archbishop Manning has said of the workings of the Holy -Spirit in the Church of England is equally applicable to the Congregational -Church of Connecticut. We have no just reason for regarding the original -colonists as formal heretics or schismatics, and even less reason for -including the subsequent generations in that category. All who have lived -and died in that faith which worketh by charity we acknowledge as the -children of God and our brethren in Jesus Christ. Those now living who have -this _fides formata_, are spiritually united to the Holy Catholic -Church, the communion of saints. Consequently, if any of these shall -hereafter enter the visible body of the church, not only will they not be -required to deny the validity of their baptismal covenant with God, and to -abjure their former spiritual life, but they will find in the tribunal of -penance that both will be recognized. - -We repeat, therefore, once more, that the proper basis on which we may -confer together concerning the faith, is to be found in those doctrines in -which we agree, and not in those in which we differ. We may not make a -positive judgment in regard to the interior and subjective relation of -individuals toward God or the true Church of God. We leave that to him who -is the only judge of hearts and consciences. We are sure of this, however, -that we are bound to cultivate the spirit of Christian charity toward those -who profess allegiances to our common Lord, to the utmost possible extent. -This charity forbids us to make an arrogant and harsh judgment that they -are, _en masse_ and by the simple fact of their outward profession, -aliens from the household of faith, or that any particular individual is -so, unless he makes it plainly manifest in his conduct. We are agreed on -both sides that we are responsible to God for our belief; and bound, as -teachers and theologians, to study conscientiously the truths of the divine -revelation. We have also a common interest in endeavoring to come to an -agreement, so far as this is necessary in order to establish unity of faith -and of ecclesiastical fellowship. Let us suppose for a moment that Dr. -Bacon represents the Congregational clergy of Connecticut, and that we have -the honor to represent the Catholic clergy. We shall agree that it is our -common interest to defend the authenticity and inspiration of all those -books of the Holy Scripture which we revere in common as canonical, and the -historic truth of the Mosaic and Evangelical records, against infidel -rationalism. Also, to solve the difficulties raised by modern science in -relation to the harmony between rational and revealed truth. Also, to -preserve the faith of the people in the Trinity, the Incarnation, and other -doctrines which we hold in common, and which are strongly attacked by many -popular preachers and writers in New-England. Also, to counteract the -tendency to indifferentism and apathy in regard to religion which is so -common. -{112} -Also, to take all possible means to bring the mass of the people under the -influence of the spiritual and moral truths of the Gospel. Also, to protect -the Christian ordinance of marriage from being to a great extent subverted -by the practice of divorce. Also, to suppress intemperance, licentiousness, -and immoralities destructive of the well-being of society. Also, to protect -the religious liberties and rights of all religious societies, and the -property, which is devoted to religious, charitable, and scientific -purposes. Also, to do all in our power to blend the various elements of the -population into one homogeneous body, and to educate them in an enlightened -and devoted attachment to the political principles of the founders of the -state. - -We will not go any further with our enumeration, for fear of assuming too -much in respect to the sentiments of our respected friend, Dr. Bacon. We -speak for our individual self alone, in saying that we cannot but deplore -the obstacle which is put in the way of carrying out into practical results -our common desire for the spiritual, moral, and social well-being of the -people of our native and ancestral State, by the schism which exists among -those who profess in common so large a portion of the Christian faith. The -spectacle presented by a divided Christianity is to us extremely painful. -We think it ought to be, also, to a member of the church founded by the -Puritans. The forefathers of New-England undoubtedly intended to plant the -pure church and faith of Christ. They made the greatest sacrifices and the -most heroic exertions in order to do it. They expected their church to -flourish, to remain, and to include in its fold all their posterity. They -took somewhat stringent measures to secure the success of their plan, and -notwithstanding our difference of judgment from them as to the justice or -wisdom of their policy, we must allow that they were conscientious. Things -have turned out, however, quite otherwise than they sanguinely expected. -Not to speak of the more extreme change which has taken place at the -headquarters of Puritanism, Connecticut is divided up among -Congregationalists, Episcopalians, Methodists, and Baptists, to say nothing -of the small sects which exist there. Rival colleges and seminaries have -been established, and even rival schools of theology among the -Congregationalists dispute over their respective interpretations of the -ancient standards of doctrine. Dr. Bacon and his friends have had no little -to suffer during their public career as ministers and professors of -theology, from the imputation of heterodoxy, and they know well how -frequently and how deeply religious differences have interfered with the -peace of families, the union of friends, and the success of religions -efforts. The Catholic Church we say nothing about, for this has been almost -exclusively the church of a late immigration of poor people, who have -sought an asylum from English tyranny among the descendants of those who -long ago fled from that same tyranny, and so nobly broke its yoke from -their necks. - -However tolerable and unavoidable such a state of things may appear to -some, we cannot but think that the foresight of it would have made the -stern old Puritans of the ancient times groan in spirit. We confess that we -sympathize with them, and that it occasions mournful thoughts to look on -the failure of such a high-souled undertaking as theirs. We sympathize with -their strong affirmation of strict dogmatic and ecclesiastical principles, -and with the same affirmation as made by those who have adhered to the -doctrine handed down from them. We cannot help looking on division -respecting that which pertains to the true, orthodox faith, and the -essential terms of Christian communion, as a great evil. The complaint made -by the late eminent president of Brown University, Dr. Wayland, of the -extensive and growing scepticism of educated men, and the general decay of -practical faith, must be well known to the educated religious public of New -England. -{113} -It is our opinion, that the separation and disagreement among the professed -teachers of Christianity is one great cause of this, and that it breaks the -moral force of the evidence of Christianity in the minds of a large portion -of the most intelligent class, and in the popular mind also. It -disintegrates and neutralizes that power which a united body would have, -and which would give it an irresistible moral force against infidelity, -irreligion, and public immorality. We cannot help longing for the time, -when all those who are now disunited shall be brought together in one fold, -professing one faith, exhibiting the divine truth of the religion of Jesus -Christ by their charity and peace, training up their children from infancy -in the practice of religion, worshipping at the same altar, participating -in life and at the hour of death in the same holy rites, and fully -realizing what a Christian people ought to be. - -The Puritan fathers of New-England had a foreshadowing of this state of -things, a foreshadowing, as we hope, of a reality to come. In our opinion, -"they builded better than they knew." We believe they were led here by the -providence of God, and guided by a higher power than their own. So far as -their work was merely human and defective, it was temporary and must pass -away. So far as it was divine, it was lasting and must stand forever. They -have founded noble institutions of learning and general education. They -have transmitted a Christian tradition, which has entered into the very -roots and fibres of intellectual and social life so strongly as to be -ineradicable. However the plant may languish, the root is still vital. Even -those who have wandered far beyond the region of Unitarianism into -speculations so vague and misty that they are almost atheistic, show in -their language, habits of thought, and entire mental structure, that they -have come from a Christian stock. The question of questions is always, what -is the religion of Jesus Christ and the meaning of his life and death upon -the earth? We hope, therefore, that the work commenced by these sternly -earnest men may be completed. In our view of the matter, it was necessary -for divine Providence to interfere, after a long lapse of time, to carry -out its own far-seeing purposes, into which this first and human plan was -to be made to blend and lose itself. The first refugees from the spiritual -tyranny of the British crown sought only an asylum for themselves and their -progeny, where they might realize their own peculiar ideal of a Christian -state and church, in a condition of colonial dependence on the mother -country. As in the political order, the results of the colonization of -America have taken an unforeseen form and magnitude, so in the spiritual. -Roger Williams led out a new band of _Puritanissimi_ from among the -Puritans, which made one division among them. The Church of England -stretched her roots also over to the virgin soil of New-England, and her -vigorous offshoot, Methodism, followed. Rationalism, too, has run its -course, as we all know, from the starting point of Channing, to the most -advanced position of Emerson. Finally, another race, distinct from the -English race by a difference of origin running back to the deluge, whose -origin as a people dates from the period of the grandfather of Moses, and -as a Christian people from the period of the Fathers of the Church, has -transplanted that form of Christianity which it has kept unaltered for -fourteen centuries, to the same soil, where it grows and flourishes "like a -green bay-tree." It is our opinion, that the Providence of God will bring -something out of this far grander and more perfect than the ideal church of -our ancestors. We think that the blending of races will produce a more -perfect type of manhood and a stronger people. We think, also, that the -religion of this people will contain all the positive qualities of the -different elements that will combine to form it. -{114} -Catholic dogma and discipline, which contains in itself all that is -positive in every form of religion, will assimilate whatever is good in all -it finds around it, integrating the noble fragments which have been rent -from the great edifice of Christianity into a perfect unity with -architectonic skill. The collision, intershock, abrasion, and melting -together of these various intellectual and spiritual forces will result in -the harmonizing of all into a unity in which the opposite tendencies -counterbalance each other. Depth and simplicity of interior life with a -rich and varied ritualism, moral strictness and self-abnegation with a -noble magnificence, taste and sobriety with fervor of devotion, unwavering -orthodoxy with a genuine rationalism, stability of forms with a genial -variety, hierarchical order with a manly liberty of personal action, form -the grand features of the type of Christianity destined to be realized in -the future. This is merely _our_ opinion, and we do not expect that it -will be generally received by those who will read these words at the -present time. We are confident, however, that their truth and force will be -recognized hereafter, long after we are numbered with the dead. We have no -expectation that the schism among those who profess the Christian name will -be healed in a summary manner, or as the simple result of discussion and -conference. It must be the work of the Creative Spirit, and cannot be -accomplished without an extraordinary communication of grace. It requires -time, also, and a gradual process. We have no intention of making an -arrogant claim of immediate submission to the authority of the Catholic -Church upon those who are not reasonably and calmly convinced of its -legitimate foundation. We are simply desirous of making a beginning in the -explanation of our own belief, in order to promote a better mutual -understanding of the question at issue between us. We ask simply, what we -are willing to concede to fair and honorable opponents, a hearing and a -candid consideration. The only weight we profess to give to the conversions -out of which this discussion has arisen is a moral weight entitling the -reasons and causes which have produced them to a serious examination. Dr. -Bacon has placed in the opposite scale the notorious fact of the great -losses the Catholic Church has sustained by the defection of her own -members. We beg leave to suggest, however, that there is no parity between -the two facts he endeavors to balance against each other. Those who lapse -into infidelity have first extinguished their conscience. They are not -seeking to draw near to God and to serve Jesus Christ, but to escape from -the dominion of both. Those who have become Protestants have not been -instructed and pious Catholics who were seeking for more light and grace, -but the offspring of parents through whose negligence or misfortune they -had been left to grow up without instruction or practical religion. On the -contrary, a large number of intelligent, well-instructed Protestants, some -of whom were clergymen of the highest standing, like Dr. Newman, Dr. -Manning, and Dr. Ives, have been led by the very effort they have made to -come up to the highest standard of faith and piety presented by their -church, after long and careful deliberation, to the threshold of the -Catholic Church, and have crossed that threshold. Dr. Bacon denies that -this fact has any particular moment for those who are not in the _viâ -mediâ_ of the Anglican Church, but are standing on what he deems the -surer foundation of the Reformed religion as established by Luther and -Calvin. Let his exception have its full value. Nevertheless, the same thing -has occurred on a lesser scale in the Lutheran and other churches of -Switzerland and Germany. Haller, Schlegel, Hurter, and Phillips are names -probably not unknown to the learned Protestants of our country. -{115} -In our own country, among the German Reformed Presbyterians, Dr. Nevin and -others have advanced to a position whose logical direction is straight into -the Catholic Church. The efforts of the illustrious Leibnitz in a former -century, and of Guizot at the present moment, to span the chasm between -Protestant orthodoxy and Catholicism are well known. The beginning of a -reactionary movement of the orthodox Protestants toward Rome is indicated -in the most terse and decisive manner by the great historian Leo, whose -authority is indisputable. Leo is the friend of Hengatenberg the -illustrious vindicator of the Bible against neology; a professor in the -Protestant University of Halle; and the author of a Text Book of Universal -History, which is both a scientific masterpiece and also one of the most -splendid arguments for divine revelation and the truth of Christianity -which this century has produced. These are his words taken from the work -just mentioned: - - "We shall be obliged to seek for the authorization of Protestantism and - its mission in something widely different from church development, and - forced to concede that Protestantism in the main forms only an - exceptional case in the shape of a place of shelter from ecclesiastical - difficulties, and that the Roman Church, when once released from the - duties of her mission in other quarters, will also turn her attention, - not to the abolition of papal authority, but to its more distinct - definition, and secure it from arbitrary acts of administration, such, - for example, as occur in the statement of the Thomist theses regarding - the connection between indulgences and the doctrines of the church, and - in one of the decrees against the Jansenists, and then will the - possibility of the Protestant world returning to the church be realized." - [Footnote 30] - - [Footnote 30: Univ. Geschichte, vol. iii., p.181.] - -We have nothing to say on the particular point the learned historian raises -about doctrinal decisions of the Holy See, but have quoted his words just -as they stand in order to show the similarity of his position to that of -Dr. Pusey, and to prove that thoughtful minds in Germany as well as in -England are beginning to desire a reconciliation of the separate communions -with the great body of Christendom. The Catholic tendency is, therefore, -not one which has sprung solely out of the hierarchical and sacramental -doctrines preserved by a kind of semi-Catholic tradition in the high church -school of the Anglicans. It has a deeper seat and a wider extension. It is -not possible to nullify its importance by qualifying converts to the -Catholic Church as men who have made an "abnegation of reason, of the -faculty which discerns right and wrong, and even of choice and personal -responsibility to God," stifled their faculties of thinking for themselves -and of discerning between truth and falsehood. This theory will not hold -water, as the judgment of the English press on the controversy between Mr. -Kingsley and Dr. Newman amply proves. The prejudice against Catholics is -wearing away. Many, even devout Protestants, have no longer any objection -to join in the prayers or listen to the sermons or read the books of -Catholic priests. Catholics and Protestants are becoming connected by ties -of blood or marriage, they mingle in the social circle, and they have -fought side by side on the bloody battle-field. The impressions made on the -imagination of childhood must necessarily be effaced by contact with the -reality. The Catholic religion will become known for what it is, and its -advocates will receive the respectful hearing to which they are entitled. - -We have all along intimated that it is not so much the mere exterior -argument for the authority of the church, as the dogmatic theology and the -interior spiritual doctrine preserved and transmitted by her authoritative -teaching, to which we desire to see the attention of our evangelical -brethren directed. The soul of the church is the noblest of its parts, and -the vivifying principle of the body. The really cardinal question at issue -concerns the method by which the individual soul is united with this soul -of the church, nourished and perfected in divine knowledge and love. In -this is included the nature of that manifestation of itself which the soul -of the church makes in its visible body. -{116} -We have no time to go into this subject at present. Courtesy to both the -writers whose articles we are reviewing requires, however, that we should -notice some of the topics over which their polemical weapons have clashed -so vigorously. - -The writer of the article in this magazine denies that Protestants hold the -doctrine of the visibility of the church, while the writer in the "New -Englander" indignantly affirms that they do hold it. Both are in the right, -because each has an entirely different idea of the visible church from the -other. The Catholic idea will be found very ably exhibited in an essay on -the Two Sides of Catholicism, translated from the German, and published in -some of the earliest numbers of this magazine. Want of time and the -necessity of keeping our article within proper limits oblige us to leave -the matter without further remark, simply observing that no Catholic -theologian would ever think of denying that orthodox Protestants hold to a -visible, universal church, in the sense explained by Dr. Bacon. - -In regard to justification, the first writer asserts that, according to the -Protestant doctrine, every man who believes he is saved by Christ is by -that sole belief united to the invisible church, which his opponent also -vehemently denies. It is the original, genuine Lutheran doctrine, _Sola -fides formaliter justificat_, Faith alone formally justifies, which is -in question. We do not think Dr. Bacon either understands or believes this -doctrine. The New England theology has from the beginning had a character -of its own, in which the subjective change called regeneration, a change of -heart, or conversion, consisting in an inward, supernatural transformation -of the soul through the grace of the Holy Spirit, has been made very -prominent. The Catholic formula, _Fides, una cum aliis requisitis, -dispositive justificat_, Faith, together with other requisites, -dispositively justifies, expresses better the spirit of this theology than -the Lutheran formula. That the merits of Christ are the meritorious cause -of justification is agreed upon by all parties. The exact sense of the -Lutheran formula is difficult of apprehension and of expression in clear -terms. As we understand it, it imports that the justification of the -sinner, which is, in this system, a mere forensic justification, and is -from eternity objectively perfect, is subjectively applied by an act of the -mind firmly believing on Christ as the substitute and ransom of the -particular subject making this act. In the strict Calvinistic system, the -doctrine that Christ redeemed only the elect is distinctly made the basis -of the doctrine of justification by faith alone. Saving faith, therefore, -implies that the subject believes that Christ died for him in particular, -and that consequently he is entitled to the favor of God and eternal life, -irrespective of his personal acts, although he cannot receive this favor or -be prepared for the happiness of heaven without the gift of a grace which -gradually sanctifies him. Fletcher of Madely, the great theologian of the -Methodists, wrote most ably against this Solifidian system. It has also -been strongly combated within the past few months by Dr. Young, of -Edinburgh. It is our opinion that this doctrine tends to reduce religion to -pure individualism, and thus to obliterate both dogma and church. It -concentrates the method of salvation into a mental or spiritual act by -which Christ is apprehended in the relation of Saviour. This act is -supposed to be excited by a supernatural inspiration of the Holy Spirit; -but, as there is no test by which the reality of the inspiration can be -certainly verified, it reduces personal religion to a subjective sentiment. -A subjective personal trust in and affection to Jesus Christ becomes, -therefore, the principal mark of a Christian and of a member of the true -church. All who have this ought, therefore, to fraternize and commune -together. The principle of private judgment on matters of doctrine is -closely connected with this principle of individualism in the relation of -the soul to Christ. -{117} -Intellectual and spiritual individualism is the metaphysical note of -Protestantism. Spiritual illumination not being anything which can be -verified, except by miracles, the principle of individualism has a tendency -to eliminate it, and to substitute pure rationalism. Hence, the great -Protestant writer Leo says, in the immediate context of the passage above -cited from his history, that "entire Protestantism has continually -complained of its inability ever to arrive at any union as regards the -question whether the Scripture is to be interpreted by reason alone or -through interior illumination." When we talk about Protestantism, we -include the whole nominal Protestant world, and do not restrict our remarks -to the comparatively small number of faithful adherents to the old orthodox -confessions. We speak of the logical principles which distinguish -Protestantism from Catholicity, as they are in their abstract essence, and -as they work out their effects of negation and individualization. As to the -actual, concrete condition of Protestant bodies, it is very easy to use -loose expressions, and to make hasty generalizations, which can easily be -criticised. The writer attacked by Dr. Bacon may have fallen into some -inaccuracies of this kind. They afford no ground, however, for the charge -of either ignorance or wilful misrepresentation. We do not care to analyze -either his statements or the counter statements of his opponent. The -manifest fact that a considerable body of Protestants do hold to the -dogmatic formularies of their churches, and to strict practical rules of -moral and religious duty, is one which we not only acknowledge, but take a -great pleasure in knowing to exist. We are glad to estimate the Christian -faith and piety which exist among them at its highest probable maximum. - -Another point to be noticed is the estimation in which the Holy Scriptures -are held among Catholics. This is a point of great importance in our -estimation, and one in which it gives us great pain that the true Catholic -sentiment should be misunderstood. Controversialists may sometimes -exaggerate the difficulty of understanding the meaning of the Scriptures, -when they are intent on proving the necessity of Catholic tradition and a -teaching authority, or use expressions which would at first view appear to -a devout Protestant like Richard Baxter or Dr. Bacon, lacking in due -reverence for the written word of God. It is only, however, a want of -acquaintance with the real doctrine and spirit of the Catholic Church which -causes a person to be scandalized by such things. It is in the works of the -fathers, of the doctors, of the great theologians, of the saints, that we -find the just and adequate expression of the mind of the church. It is -impossible to exaggerate the sentiment of reverence for the Holy Scriptures -with which these great writers are filled. It is the perennial source, pure -and undefiled, from which their inspiration is drawn. The Bible is the work -of God, as the firmament of heaven is his work. It has the precedence of -dignity over tradition, decrees of councils, theology, science, literature, -every other work in which man concurs with the spirit of God; because in -the production of the Bible the Spirit of God has concurred with the spirit -of man in a higher and more immediate manner. There is but one question to -be asked: How shall we ascertain the true sense of the Scripture? For, as -soon as it is ascertained, it demands the homage of the mind _per se_ -as the revelation of infinite truth. - -We concur in what Dr. Bacon has written on this point, so far as its -general scope is concerned. He establishes all we desire to maintain, -namely, that the truths of revelation are not given in the form of -systematized dogmatic teachings in the Scripture. Therefore it is that we -need to be imbued with the sense of the Scripture by traditional teaching, -and to be furnished with a dogmatic formula in which its doctrines are -clearly defined, in order to be able easily and certainly to perceive in -their sublimity and completeness the divine truths contained in it. -{118} -Hence, the Jews, for want of this, cannot see Christ in the Old Testament. -Unitarians cannot see the Trinity or Incarnation in the New Testament. -Catholics, Anglicans, Congregationalists, Calvinists, Armenians, -Rationalists, Friends, Campbellites, and many others, cannot agree as to -the combination principle which will unlock the whole meaning of the -Scripture. We do not attribute this to the Scriptures themselves, but to -the incapability of the individual mind or spirit to take the place of the -divinely appointed, infallible witness, teacher, and judge of -controversies, to whose keeping the sacred Scriptures have been committed. -When faith is fixed as regards the great universal dogmas, and the canon -authoritatively settled, a perfect universe is opened to the student of the -Holy Scriptures, where he may prosecute his studies uncontrolled by -anything except reason, conscience, and a just humility. We have no -question whatever that all the articles of the Catholic Faith can be -conclusively proved by Scripture. None whatever that the principles on -which sound criticism and exegesis are conducted are truly scientific. We -believe that the books of Scripture are intelligible, and a perfect mine of -intellectual, spiritual, and moral treasure. This is true, eminently, of -the sacred books as they are studied in their original languages. It is no -less true, however, that its most important treasures of knowledge are -equally open to those who can read the best versions. No book has ever been -so many times well translated as the Bible. Let a version be warranted by a -competent authority, and one may expatiate in it with as much freedom and -confidence that his mind is really borne up on the ocean of divine truth, -as if he could read the Hebrew and Greek with the readiness of a Mai or a -Hengstenberg. It is, therefore, without doubt, a most excellent and -profitable exercise for good, plain people, able to read and understand the -English Bible, to read it continually and attentively. In proportion as one -become capable of understanding the Holy Scriptures, and has the means of -prosecuting his studies, in the same proportion will the advantage to be -gained increase. We have no fear of any intelligent, instructed Catholic -being injured by reading the Bible. Nor do we consider the very general and -high esteem of King James's version among English-speaking Protestants, and -their general familiarity with it, as an evil, or as an obstacle to the -spread of Catholic doctrines. We regard that version as among the best in -literary excellence, and as substantially accurate. We would as soon argue -from it with a Protestant as from the original texts. Indeed, we think it a -special blessing of God that one version, and that one so generally -faithful to the true sense of the Scripture, should be almost universally -diffused through the English-speaking world. Would that all who have -inherited the Christian name were firmly persuaded of the divine -inspiration of the Scriptures and sincerely desirous to learn their true -meaning! With all those who acknowledge Jesus Christ to be an infallible -Teacher sent from God, we feel that we have one firm spot to stand upon. -Where not only this truth is held, but, also, that he is the true and -eternal Son of God, and that the New Testament of our Lord and Saviour -Jesus Christ is so inspired by his Spirit that every statement it contains -respecting doctrine, morals, and the facts connected with them is -infallibly true, we have another firm spot broader than the first. As for -those who have altogether lost their footing upon even the first of these -solid Christian principles, we may well shudder at the magnitude and -difficulty of the work of their re-conversion to Christianity. Yet, this is -the great work really impending, unless we would see a large portion of -Christendom swept away into infidelity, and involved in all its appalling -consequences. -{119} -For this reason we desire with all our heart that the differences among -those who believe that all the hopes of the human race are contained in the -Christian revelation should be finally settled, and that all should agree -as to what that Christianity is, which shall be proposed to the acceptance -of all mankind. This desire has been our motive for endeavoring to pierce -through the special and personal issues of the controversy before us, and -to bring it upon broader and more open ground. We have endeavored to get -the question out of a region where we conceive that misunderstanding and -useless contention will be interminable. There is an antecedent difficulty -in the way which we know very well, and did know before we were so -distinctly reminded of it by our learned friends of New-Haven. It is the -preconceived opinion they hold respecting the end and object which the -advocates of the Catholic religion have in view, and the policy according -to which they act. We have not been sanguine enough to suppose that -anything we can say will remove this difficulty. Until our respected -friends become familiar with the works of our great theologians and -spiritual writers, and come into closer intellectual contact with the -general Catholic mind and heart, there must be a non-conducting medium -between us, which will obstruct the communication of thought and sentiment. -We aim only to recommend this study, on grounds of reason, policy, and -Christian charity. We have already seen its effects in many instances in -bringing nearer together those who are widely sundered, and therefore we -will cherish the hope that its ultimate result may be a complete and -universal reconciliation. - ------ - - Abridged from the Dublin University Magazine. - - Athlone And Aughrim. - - - Preparations for the Struggle. - - -During the winter and spring of 1691, General Ginckel had the comfort or -seeing the forces under his command tolerably well clothed and fed, and -housed in different cities and towns, while their antagonists in Connaught -enjoyed these advantages but sparingly. Tyrconnell returned from France in -January, leaving 10,000 louis d'or at Brest to purchase provisions, etc., -and bringing to Limerick about 18,000. He established public confidence to -some extent by reducing copper crowns and half-crowns to their just value. -He gratified the Irish party by producing a royal patent, creating -Sarsfield Earl of Lucan, Viscount of Tully, and Baron of Rosberry. - -In May of the same year arrived in the Shannon the French fleet, laden with -provisions, arms, ammunition, and clothing, but neither men nor money. -However, what they did bring must have been a great boon to the poor -soldiers, whose pay, when money was available, had hitherto not exceeded a -penny a day. With these supplies came General St. Ruth to assume the -command of James's forces in Ireland, which at and from that time included -no French soldiers. The main strength of William's, armies was concentrated -about Mulingar, and the Dutch commander was ably seconded by his officers-- -Talmash, Mackay, and De Ruvigny, names familiar to the readers of Richard -Ashton's play of the "Battle of Aughrim." St. Ruth had for assistants -Majors-General d'Usson and De Tesse, and Lieutenant-General Patrick -Sarsfield, but unhappily for the cause he came to maintain he assumed airs -of reserve and superiority with the Irish nobleman, which the latter could -ill brook. - -{120} - -On June the 6th of that eventful year the campaign may be said to have -begun with the march from Mullingar. We learn from "Tristram Shandy" that -the army in Flanders swore frightfully, and indeed it was not much better -in Westmeath. We find Baron de Ginckel giving strict orders, while the army -was proceeding westward, that the chaplain should read prayers at the head -of each regiment at ten in the morning, and again at seven in the evening, -and exhort their flocks to desist from swearing, "a vice (as Rev. Mr. Story -complains) too common among us." "Stealing" seems to have been another -prevalent weakness; the chaplain relates how "a fellow stole a horse and -was hanged for it, which wrought some reformation for a time." The -following order implies considerable demoralization among the varied -populace in arms ruled by the able Dutch general: "No sutler or other -person whatever should buy any ammunition, arms, or accoutrements, or any -thing that belonged to the soldiers on pain of death; because the soldiers -for a little money would be apt to sell their cloaths or shoes; and if as -great care were not taken of most of them as of children, they would soon -be in a very indifferent condition." - -The only incident that varied their march to Athlone was the taking of the -strong fort of Ballymore. Mr. Story censures the commander, Myles Burke, -for "not listening to the general's mild proposals." After vigorous -salutations of powder and shot on both sides, Ginckel sent a verbal demand -to surrender within two hours or else--! Governor Burke requested the -message to be conveyed to him in writing, but gained nothing by the motion. -The following missive was immediately sent in writing: - - "Since the governour desires to see in writing the message which I just - now sent him by word of mouth, he may know that if he surrenders the fort - of Ballymore to me within two hours, I will give him and his garrison - their lives and make them prisoners of war. If not, neither he nor they - shall have any quarter, nor another opportunity of saving themselves. - However, if in that time their women and children will go out they have - my leave. - "Given in the camp, this - 8th day of June, 1691, - at eight a clock in the - morning. - Bar. De Ginckell." - -The general was not so severe in deed as in word, for though resistance -continued to be made with two Turkish cannon mounted on cart-wheels, much -beyond the stipulated two hours, he still treated the defenders as -prisoners of war. - - - The Siege of Athlone. - -On the 19th of June the English cannon began to thunder on the devoted -outworks of the English town of Athlone, to wit, that portion of it which -stands on the eastern side of the Shannon. Story gives the number of the -English army at this time as eighteen thousand, well provided with all -warlike appurtenances. A breach was made in the indifferent defence, and -next day the assault was made by four thousand men. The defenders after -losing two hundred men made their way into the Irish town on the western -bank, taking care to leave behind them toward their own side two wide -chasms, below which flowed the Shannon deep and rapid. This was the amount -of the destructive work done on the second day. St. Ruth, hearing of the -taking of the English town that evening, advanced within three miles of the -still untaken portion, having about fifteen thousand men, horse and foot, -under his command. - -{121} - -The next things done were the erection of batteries on the eastern side of -the river, and the subsequent demolition of the eastern wall of the castle, -and other fortifications on the Irish side, by the incessant storm of -cannon-balls from the strong defence on the eastern bank. A horrible -incident of this siege was connected with a mill resting on the bridge, -which, being fired by the English grenades, its sixty-four defenders were -burnt alive. Two only escaped by springing into the river. - -As fast as castle walls and other fortifications were demolished, new posts -of defence and annoyance were set up on the Irish side, and the breaches in -the bridge could not be floored over, owing to the unwelcome neighborhood -of the Irish guns. The English general, weighing the difficulty of an -effectual transit, bethought of sending a lieutenant with an exploring -party to examine a reported ford toward Lanesborough: - - "Where there might be an easy and undiscovered passage for most of our - army, while our cannon amused the enemy at the town. This party went and - found the pass according to information, but tho' he (the lieutenant) was - positively ordered to return as soon as he had passed the river, yet such - are the powerful charms of black cattle to some sorts of people, that the - lieutenant, espying a prey some distance from him on the other side, must - needs be scampering after them, by which means our design was discovered, - and the enemy immediately provided against it by throwing up strong works - on the other side. The lieutenant, I heard, was afterward try'd, and - suffer'd for it." - -Good-hearted as we imagine our chaplain to have been, he could never bring -himself up to the point of impartial laudation of the good qualities of his -opponents. The ford toward Lanesborough being out of the question, the most -vigorous efforts were made to get possession of the bridge; but the stern -determination of the Irish party foiled every attempt. - -At last the Irish breastwork, which prevented the English engineers from -laying a flooring over the now solitary chasm, was destroyed. It consisted -in great part of fascines (fagots), which being in an unlucky moment set on -fire by English grenades, were quickly consumed, owing to the dryness and -heat of the weather. The opportunity was not lost, planks were thrown -across, and even a flooring laid on in part, when a heroic band of ten men -of Maxwell's regiment, commanded by a sergeant, and all in armor, advanced -from the western end of the bridge, and began to tear up planks and boards, -and fling them into the river. A storm of bullets soon levelled them -despite their harness before they had completed the daring deed; but their -places were taken by another devoted eleven. They succeeded in -precipitating the remaining beams into the river at the sacrifice of the -lives of nine of their number. Two escaped, and the bridge was once more -impassable. - -The name and fame of the historic or mythic Horatius Coeles has been -preserved for upward of two thousand years. There is not a verse extant to -the praise of these score of heroic men, martyrs to their cause. Their very -names are lost, if we except the sergeant, and probably _Custume_, the -name by which his memory is preserved, is either a mistake or a nickname. - -The next attempt to pass the river was well arranged beforehand. It was -decided that at an early hour in the day efforts should be made at three -different points--the bridge, a ford lately discovered below the bridge, -and a point still lower to be crossed on pontoons. However, the boats -required more time to reach their places than was calculated on, and a -covered gallery, intended to facilitate the passage at the bridge, was -destroyed at the commencement of the advance. The Irish and English -grenadiers on the bridge began to fling their peculiar weapons at each -other, and luck being with the Irish on this occasion, their grenades set -fire to the enemy's fascines and to the covered gallery. There being a -strong westerly wind at the time, the flames spread rapidly, and caused -much confusion. -{122} -St. Ruth had received previous intimation of the design, and the flower of -the Irish troops were ready to receive the unwelcome visitors. Detachments -had poured into the garrison, and the main army remained under the cover of -the western ramparts of the Irish town, to rush in on the storming body if -they succeeded in crossing the river. The event of the strife on the bridge -prevented the attempt by the ford or the pontoons. - -This check had a very disheartening effect upon the besieging forces; for, -though their cannon ceaselessly continued to play on the defences of the -Irish town, a council of war was held, wherein the difficulties of staying -there any longer were represented. - -The council came to a wise resolution under the circumstances. It was -dangerous to retire, it was dangerous to advance; but glory and honor might -wait on the latter alterative, and it was adopted. The report of two -deserters who succeeded in coming across encouraged them in their -courageous resolve. They represented St. Ruth and his officers as put off -their guard, and expected to hear of the retreat of the English at any -moment. They also reported the garrison at that moment as consisting of -three of the rawest regiments in the whole force. - -The report was in the main correct. St. Ruth had given a large party to the -ladies and gentlemen of the country, and universal joy and negligence ruled -in the army. The general, wishing to season the latest recruits, sent them -to keep garrison, directing that the fortifications in the rear, chiefly -consisting of earth works, should be levelled, so as to afford facility for -the new hands to retire, if they found themselves crowded by the foe, and -also facility to the tried men in the camp to come to their relief under -the same undesirable circumstances. D'Usson represented the want of wisdom -in the appointment of the raw hands to the post of danger, and further -objected to the destruction of the ramparts. The Irish chiefs did not -cordially co-operate; and there was a palpable want of wisdom in their -councils. The earthworks remained untouched, and the inexperienced soldiers -were set to learn their first dangerous lesson, a fierce foe in front, no -means of safe retreat in the rear, and a prodigious stake depending on -their firmness. [Footnote 31] - - - [Footnote 31: It is mentioned in some accounts that when these new men - found themselves at their posts they were unprovided with powder. - Having after some delay got this article, they had to apply again for - bullets. Captain Maxwell, to whom the application came, thinking they - were already provided, jestingly asked, "Was it to shoot larks?"] - -The ford already mentioned had been tried in the first instance by three -Dutchmen in armor, the English guns firing volleys apparently at them, but -in reality over their heads during the transit. This device protected them -from the Irish bullets, as they were supposed to be deserters. However, -when they turned round after a reasonably near approach to the Irish side, -they began to find the leaden shower pelting about their ears from that -quarter. They made their escape with some slight wounds, the water at the -deepest having only reached their waists. The season was a remarkably dry -one, and that ford had never been so shallow in the memory of man. - -De Ginckel and his chiefs, having come to the resolution of trying another -bold assault, did not defer its execution till the enemy should become -apprised of their intention. The hour of relieving guard at six o'clock was -chosen, when the Irishtown men saw nothing very unusual in the crowding of -the English soldiers into the garrison. Everything being minutely arranged -between the Dutch general and his officers, a body of determined men moved -toward the ford. This was the critical movement on the success of which -depended the action to be taken at the other two passages. And here a -quotation from the memoir of Patrick Sarsfield, by J. W. Cole, Esq., will -help to make the state of things at that hour more clear: - -{123} - - "Sarsfield apprised St. Ruth of the enemy's intention. He turned a deaf - ear to the messenger who found him dressing for a shooting excursion, - laughed at the idea of bringing up the army to repel an imaginary attack, - and said scoffingly that his officers were tired with dancing at last - night's ball. Sarsfield repeated the intelligence, representing in the - most urgent terms that not a moment was to be lost. 'They dare not do - it,' said the confident Frenchman, 'and I so near,' adding that he would - give a thousand louis to hear that the English durst attempt to pass. - 'Spare your money and mind your business,' was the gruff retort of - Sarsfield. 'I know the English better than you do. There is no enterprise - too desperate for their courage to attempt.'" - -Col. Charles O'Kelly gives it as his opinion that the Scotch Colonel -Maxwell "sold the pass." Here is a translation of his Latin: - - "One of his legions having swam over the Lycus that afternoon, no sooner - came to Ororis (Ginekel) and delivered him a private message than the - party was immediately detached to attack the river. When the soldiers - called out to Maxilles for arrows (bullets), he would give them none, but - asked them whether they should shoot against the birds of the air. He - ordered the men to lie down and take their rest, saying there would be no - action till night. So that when the enemy entered, the soldiers for the - most part were asleep, and few or none in their posts. When the first man - of the enemy mounted the breach, be boldly asked him, 'Do you know me?' - whereupon he got quarter, and all the rest were put to the sword; this it - seems being the signal to distinguish the betrayer from the rest, and it - is supposed that Ororis commanded those who were upon the attack, to use - the officer well who should put that question. ... Lysander (Sarsfield) - accused him a few days before in the general's presence, and it is - certain it was not prudently done, after giving you such a public - affront, to intrust to him the command of a post of that importance, but - it seems Corydon (Tyrconnel) would have it so, and Pyrrhus (St. Ruth) did - not think fit to disoblige the viceroy." - -We are not convinced of Maxwell's treachery, Col. O'Kelly's surmises -notwithstanding. He intensely disliked Tyrconnel, and this dislike was -shared in by all who enjoyed his favor. The public accusation, and the -important post intrusted soon after to the accused are the reverse of cause -and effect. We shall presently set his behavior at the assault in a better -light. - - - The Passage of the Shannon. - -A few minutes after the tolling of the church bell at 6 o'clock P.M., the -English batteries commenced playing furiously on the town, seconded by -numerous volleys from marksman who were stationed on ladders placed against -the inside of the wall in English town. In directing this deafening uproar -Ginckel seems to have badly co-operated with Colonel Maxwell in putting the -poor raw recruits to sleep. Simultaneously with this flourish, the trial of -the ford was made, to describe which we prefer the words of the -eye-witness, Story, to those of any other, including our own. - - "About 2,000 detach't men were now ready, and Major-General Mackay to - command them. Major-General Tettcau, the Prince of Hesse, and Brigadeer - La Molliner were likewise of the party, and Major-General Talmarsh went a - volunteer with a party of grannadeers, commanded by Collonel Gustavus - Hambleton. And for the greater encouragement to the soldiers, the general - distributed a sum of guinea's amongst them, knowing the powerful - influence of gold, though our armies had as little occasion for such - gratuities (I mean as to that point of whetting their courage) as any in - all the world, and have done as much without them. - - "The ford was over against a bastion of the enemies where a breach was - made already, and the river being try'd three days before, ... and found - passable; so that all things being in this order, six minutes past six a - clock, Captain Sandys and two lieutenants led the first party of 60 - granadeers, all in armour and 20 a breast, seconded by another good body, - who all with an amazing resolution took the river, the stream being very - rapid and deep (?) at which time our great and small shot began to play - from our batteries and works on our side upon the enemies works on the - other, and they fired as thick as possible upon our men that were passing - the river, who forced their way thro fire and smoak, and gaining the - other bank the rest laid planks over the broken part of the bridge, and - others were laying the bridge of boats, by which our men passed over so - fast that in less than half an hour we were masters of the town. ... A - great many of the Irish were killed in their works, and yet its - observable that our men when they saw themselves really masters of the - town, were not at all forward to kill those at their mercy, though it was - in a manner in the heat of action. But the rubbish and stuff thrown down - by our cannon was more difficult to climb over than a great part of the - enemies works which occasioned our soldiers to swear and curse even among - the bullets themselves, upon which Major-General Mackay told them that - they had more reason to fall upon their knees and thank God for their - victory, and that they were brave men and the best of men if they would - swear less. ... -{124} - Among the (Irish officers) were slain during the siege and attack, Col. - O'Gara, [Footnote 32] Col. Richard Grace, Col. Art. Oge Mackmahon, two of - the Mack Genness, and several others." - - [Footnote 32: This is probably a mistake, as there is record but of one - Col. O'Gara in King James's forces, and he is afterward heard of at - Limerick. Col. Richard Grace had fought vigorously for Charles I. till - the surrender at Oxford in 1646. Returning to Ireland he raised at his - own expense a force estimated at from three to five thousand men, and - enjoyed the honor of having his head valued at £500 by Cromwell. In - 1652 he was permitted to retire to the continent with a contingent of - 1200 men. The Duke of York always treated him with the greatest - friendship. After the restoration his estates in the King's County and - were restored to him. He had defendant Athlone during Cromwell's wars, - and again in 1690 against Douglas. During his government of this - garrison he was rigid in repressing any outrages on the country people - by the military, and on one occasion he had 10 soldiers hung at the - same time from the outer wall for such offenses. He was killed the day - preceding the capture, and his body discovered when the English got - possession. His activity and energy could not be surpassed. In bringing - up forces from a part of Kilkenny to Athlone he walked with the men - seventy miles in two days. Another time he rode from Dublin to Athlone - and back, 116 Irish miles in twenty-four hours.] - -Notwithstanding the treachery imputed to Col. Maxwell, he exerted himself -gallantly to cover the retreat of the poor recruits, who found the rear -fortifications sadly in their way. St. Ruth, on receiving the fatal news, -sent off Major-General John Hamilton with two brigades of infantry to drive -out the enemy. But as the western ramparts had been considerately left for -the protection and comfort of this same enemy, the scrambling over these -works, and the subsequent driving out of the numerous and flushed forces -behind them, was not to be accomplished by a mere _coup de main_, and -two infantry brigades. They did what in them lay. They covered the retreat -of the fugitives, and gave the vanguard of their pursuers a warm reception. -Col. Maxwell, now a prisoner, and a passive spectator, afterward declared -that he had entertained great hopes of being rescued during the short but -deadly strife between the combatants. St. Ruth's feelings were not to be -envied the night of that dismal day; for he must have been sensible that, -owing to his contempt of the enemy, over-weaning confidence, and neglecting -necessary precautions, or not insisting on their execution, he wretchedly -permitted the great stronghold of the king for whom he commanded to be -taken out of his bands. - - "At Ballinasloe (we quote Mr. Cole) he drew up his forces intending to - make a stand. Sarsfield, backed by the other general officers, - represented that it was madness to risk a certain defeat there by - engaging a superior and better disciplined army, flushed with the recent - conquest of Athlone; that the wiser plan would be to hold Galway and - Limerick with strong garrisons, to march with the remainder of the - infantry and all the cavalry into Munster and Leinster, intercept the - enemy's communications, and perhaps make a dash upon Dublin, which was - left in a state unprepared for resistance. St. Ruth yielded to their - remonstrances, and retreated to Aughrim; but here he suddenly and in evil - hour for his own cause changed his determination, and resolved to risk a - battle. He was either stung by the loss of Athlone, or prompted by - personal vanity which whispered to him that he was destined to - immortalize his name by a great victory." - -Having made up his mind to abide the brunt of Ginckel's well-appointed and -well-disciplined and numerous forces, he halted his dispirited but -determined troops on the hill-side of Kilcomedan, about three miles -south-west of Ballinasloe. - - - The Field of Aughrim. - -Probably most of our readers are in the same predicament with relation to -this hill of dismal memory. They have not looked over that battle-field, -and probably never will, the Great Western railway notwithstanding. So we -borrow the graphic account of a writer who examined the ridge from end to -end, the Danish fort on its summit, and the unlucky old castle, conversed -with an aged man of the village, who had long since spoken with an aged -woman, who when a very young girl had brought some country produce to King -James's soldiers, and had witnessed with terror and curiosity some of the -occurrences of the fatal 12th of July, 1691. - - "The hill of Kilcomedan is in no part very steep. It forms a gradual - slope extending almost due north and from end to end, a distance of about - a mile and a half; and at the time of which we speak it was perfectly - open and covered with heath. Along the crest or this hill was perched the - Irish camp, and the position in which St. Ruth was resolved to await the - enemy extended along its base. - -{125} - - "The foremost line of the Irish composed entirely of musketeers, occupied - a series of small enclosures, and was covered in front throughout its - entire extent by a morass through which flows a little stream, and this - swamp with difficulty passable by infantry, was wholly so for cavalry. - Through two passes only was the Irish position thus covered assailable - upon firm ground, the one at the extreme right much the more open of the - two, and called the pass of Urrachree from an old house and demesne which - lay close to it, and the other at the extreme left, by the long straight - road leading into the town of Aughrim. This road was broken, and so - narrow that some annalists state that two horses could not pass it - abreast; in addition to which it was commanded by the castle of Aughrim, - then as now it is true but a ruin, but whose walls and enclosures - nevertheless afforded effectual cover, and a position such as ought to - have rendered the pass impregnable. Beyond those passes at either side - were extensive bogs, and dividing them the interposing morass. The - enclosures in which the advanced musketeers were posted, afforded - excellent cover, and from one to the other communications had been cut, - and at certain intervals their whole length was traversed by broad - passages, intended to admit the flanking charge of the Irish cavalry in - case the enemy's infantry should succeed in forcing their way thus far. - The main line extended in a double row of columns parallel to the - advanced position of the musketeers, and the reserve of the cavalry was - drawn up on a small plain a little behind the castle of Aughrim, which - was occupied by a force of about two thousand men. The Irish army - numbered in all, perhaps, about twenty thousand men, and the position - they held extended more than an English mile, and was indeed as powerful - a one as could possibly have been selected." - -Begging the author's indulgence for this needful theft, we own ourselves -unable to resist the temptation of committing another, especially as, if he -had been under harness himself that day in the Irish camp, he would not -have voluntarily shared in the solemn function so vividly describes: - - "Many of our readers are doubtless aware that the field of Aughrim was - fought upon a Sunday, a circumstance which added one to the many - thrilling incidents of the martial scene. The army had hardly moved into - that position which was that day to be so hardly and devotedly - maintained, when the solemn service of high mass was commenced at the - head of every regiment by its respective chaplain; and during this solemn - ceremonial were arriving at every moment fresh messengers from the - outposts, their horses covered with dust and foam, with the stern - intelligence that the enemy were steadily approaching; and amid all this - excitement and suspense, in silence and bare-beaded, kneeled the devoted - thousands in the ranks in which they were to receive the foe, and on the - very ground on which they were in a few hours so desperately to contend. - This solemn and striking ceremonial under circumstances which even the - bravest admit to be full of awe, and amid the tramp and neighing of - horses, and jingling of accoutrements, and the distant trumpet signals - from the outposts, invested the scene with a wildness and sublimity of - grandeur, which blanched many a cheek, and fluttered many a heart with - feelings very different from those of fear." - - - The Pass of Urrachree. - -A thick vapor, called up from the surrounding bogs and marshes by the hot -morning sun, kept the rival armies concealed from each other's sight till -about 12 o'clock, when, all becoming clear, the men on Kilcomedan had a -full sight of the allied forces, commanded by eight majors-general, and -arranged in double columns, their rich appointments presenting an -unpleasant contrast to their own much more modest if not shabby garb and -accoutrements. As soon as General Ginckel could command a distinct view -from a height toward the left of his lines, he was enabled to judge of the -strength of the position held by the Irish, and the skill shown in the -disposition of the forces adverted to above. He could see one portion of -the cavalry prepared to dispute the pass at Urrachree, another watching the -pass at Aughrim, the main body of horse posted below the crest of the hill, -the infantry still lower disposed in two columns, and he could guess the -presence of musketeers in the ditches at the bottom of the hill, prepared -to receive the hardy infantry who would venture across the morass to -exchange shots with them. Sarsfield's horse beyond the brow of Kilcomedan -on the Irish left, he probably did not observe. There was the shrewd and -fiery chief placed, with strict orders from his unfriendly superior not to -stir from that spot till expressly ordered. -{126} -Had the gallant Dutchman at that moment known that St. Ruth had not -communicated to any of his general officers the scheme be intended to -observe through the engagement, his hopes of victory would have been much -more sanguine. Feeling the inexpediency of commencing a general engagement, -yet impatient of the scene of inactivity before him, he gave orders to a -Danish captain of horse commanding sixteen men to attempt the pass of -Urrachree. The small body was warmly received by some watching cavalry -still fewer in number, and though the brave officer justified the -reputation of his country for dogged courage, his men were deserted by that -virtue so essential to every soldier, and "ran like men." - -Ginckel, fully aware of the importance of the pass in case a general -engagement should take place, next directed Colonel Albert Conyngham to -take possession of some ditches near where one branch of the stream entered -the morass. The chief of this party had received orders not to advance -beyond the mere boundary, lest he should be intercepted, and thus bring on -a premature engagement. The Irish party, after receiving the enemy's fire -and returning it, showed their backs, and their assailants pursued them -beyond the limits pointed out by the sagacious De Ginckel. An ambush had -been prepared in expectation of this proceeding, and, while they were least -expecting it, a destructive fire was opened on them from behind cover. Many -immediately dismounted, and, taking advantage of a hedge, returned the fire -with deadly interest. They had little time to enjoy the success of this -move, when they were startled by the rush of a strong cavalry force -sweeping down on them from behind the extremity of the hill, and the old -manor-house of Urrachree. They were obliged to retire in disorder before -this new enemy, but the watchful eye of the justly displeased general had -well marked the progress of the action, and provided for the expected -repulse. D'Eppinger's royal regiment of Holland dragoons came on amain to -get between the pursuing Irish horse and the hill. But other detachments of -Irish cavalry were at hand to frustrate this design; the Earl of Portland's -horse were sent to support the forcing party, and a stern combat was waged -for about an hour, fresh parties joining the strife from the natural -impatience of men of heart to remain still while blows are bandying before -their eyes. At three o'clock this contention came to an end, both sides -having lost several stout partisans, and the relative positions being much -the same as at the beginning of the skirmish. - -For the next hour and a half nothing was done on either aide. The English -generals were in close consultation as to whether it were better to renew -the attack or defer it till next morning. The brave old Scotchman, Mackay, -decided his fellow commanders for present action. He counselled a renewed -and more effective attempt at Urrachree, which, causing re-enforcements to -be drawn from the Irish centre and the neighborhood of Aughrim, would -enable the infantry to try the morass where it was narrowest, and also -enable the cavalry on the right wing to force the dangerous pass at -Aughrim, watched by the garrison of the ruined castle. - - - The Morass And The Hedges. - -At this time (half-past four in the evening) the main body of the English -formed two lines directly before the morass, the generals on each side -having a pretty correct idea of the state and efficiency of their foes. In -other respects the advantage was with the allied army. There was a perfect -cordiality and understanding between De Ginckel and his generals, and even -in the case of his death and that of his second in command the Duke of -Wirtemberg, Mackay, or Talmash, or De Ruvigny were perfectly apprised of -the general plan of the action. - -{127} - -The Danish horse and a body of infantry were ordered to the extreme left, -with the apparent design to out-flank the enemy on that side, and thus draw -away from the Irish centre and left wing much of the strength there needed. -This body (the Dutch, to wit) kept that postilion during the remainder of -the battle, doing as good service as if actually engaged. Three French -regiments, namely, those of La Mellonière, Du Cambon, and Belcassel, -commenced to assail the advanced forces of the Irish in the neighborhood of -these inactive troops, and obliged St. Ruth to weaken his left and centre -to support them. Except the cannonading from both sides there was no -fighting going on until six o'clock along the entire line, except this in -the neighborhood of Urrachree. - -Mackay, in order to weaken still more the Irish left wing, advised Ginckel -to separate a considerable body of horse from Talmash's troops, who were -waiting for a favorable opportunity to tempt the narrow pass toward -Aughrim, and to send them toward Urrachree. This had the desired effect, -and now preparations were made to cross the morass at the narrowest part -and attack the Irish centre. - -While detachments of the second line of the left centre of the Irish were -marching to defend the pass at Urrachree, and thus leaving their late -positions comparatively weak, four English regiments, commanded by Colonels -Erie, Herbert, Creighton, and Brewer, effected the passage of the marsh, -and were received by a volley from the men ensconced behind the lowest -fence. Openings (as before mentioned) being ready, these marksman, as soon -as they were dislodged, retired behind the next shelter, and repeated the -process till they had drawn the British soldiers nearly half a mile up the -hill. - -Now their orders had been to wait till a much greater force had crossed at -a wider portion of the morass lower down (that is, near Aughrim, the stream -in the centre of the morass flowing in that direction), and effected a -junction with them. So when they saw their cunning enemies, joined by the -main central force, and these again backed by cavalry, all preparing to -sweep down on them, they remembered too late the wise orders they had -received. However, if the charging party were Irish wolf-hounds, the -charged were English bull-dogs, and determined to make courage repair evil -done by rashness. The gallant Colonel Erie cried out: "There is no way to -come off but to be brave!" But neither the courage of the men nor the -ability of the leaders could resist the downward charge of horse and foot, -and the flanking bullets that rained on them. Colonels Erie and Herbert and -some captains were taken prisoners and rescued, and recaptured, and we are -sorry to record that Colonel Herbert was killed while prisoner, from -apprehension of his rescue. The English did not or could not make use of -the fences in their downward flight, as their pursuers had done when -enticing them upward, but were driven, as it were, by press of men till the -survivors once more gained the bog. - -Meantime five regiments, for whose safe lodgment these rash men ought to -have waited, had crossed the wider part of the morass lower down, under the -command of the veteran Major-General Mackay and Prince George of Hesse. -This fiery young warrior was ordered by his senior to keep his division -stationary in a cornfield until he himself should have made a sufficient -_detour_ to the right among difficult ground and to attack the enemy -in flank while Prince George was assailing them in front. - -The same error as that just previously committed by the staid English -colonels was repeated by the impetuous young German prince. Being fired at -and probably jeered or mocked by the ditch holders he advanced to chastise -them, and both parties came to such close quarters that the ends of their -muskets nearly touched. -{128} -Back went the Irish musketeers, after them pushed the assailants, new -shelter taken, fresh shots fired, fresh dislodgments, no attention paid by -Englander or foreigner till they found themselves surrounded and assailed -front, flank, and rear, by the Irish. There was a skirmishing retreat made -till the corn-field was reached by the survivors, some even whose care for -self overpowered love of fame or fighting, never stayed till they had put -the morass between themselves and the pestilent hedgemen. - -General Mackay, having mastered the difficulties before him, was in hopes -of having the Irish foe between himself and the holders of the cornfield, -but was thunderstruck on his return at the demoralized condition of his -rash friends. He sent to request aid from General Talmash, and the three -parties renewed a desperate onslaught on the musketeers who occupied the -fences. They were received with the same determined resolution and deadly -fire as on the two former occasions, and were obliged by the close and -uninterrupted musket volleys and flank charges of horse to fall back on the -cornfield, the marsh, and even to the dry ground on the eastern side on a -line with the English batteries. - -Three times did the tide of battle flow and ebb across the bog on that -memorable afternoon, each party inspired with the dogged determination and -hate that a struggle for life and for a darling cause inspired. Even the -Williamite chaplain was obliged in a manner to do justice to the bravery of -the Irish enemy. Describing the beginning of the attack, he says:-- - - "The _Irish_ in the meantime laid so close in their ditches that - several were doubtful whether they had any men at that place or not, but - they were convinced of it at last, for no sooner were the _French_ - and the rest got within twenty yards or less of the ditches, but the - _Irish_ fired most furiously upon them, which our men as bravely - sustained, and pressed forward, though they could scarce see one another - for smoak. And now the thing seemed so doubtful for some time that the - by-standers would rather have given it on the Irish side, for they had - driven our foot in the centre so far that they were got almost in a line - with some of our great guns planted near the bog, which we had not the - benefit of at that juncture, because of the mixture of our men and - theirs." - -During the continuance of this deadly strife in the centre, De Ginckel was -directing the efforts of the foreign auxiliaries against the defenders of -Urrachree. The general himself, regardless of his own safety, exposed his -life on more than one occasion. He was re-enforced more than once from the -left, but all that the greatest skill and energy on the part of himself and -his generals, and bravery on the part of their men could effect, were -insufficient to remove the Irish cavalry from their ground of vantage. Next -to this mingled war of cavalry and infantry, and nearer the centre, the -French infantry regiments of La Mellonière, Du Camben, and Belcassel -struggled, like the fiery stout fellows they were, to drive the Irish -infantry opposed to them from their ditches. They (the French) fortified -their positions when any advantage was gained by _chevaux de frise_, -but these were again and again taken and destroyed by their opponents. -Scarcely did any portion of the mingled peoples suffer so much in the -deadly struggle at Aughrim as these gallant Frenchmen. Had De Ginckel's -cavalry, and these French infantry, succeeded in dislodging their -opponents, they would then be in a position to take the Irish centre in -flank, and bring the struggle to a speedy close, but this was not the mode -in which it was the will of Providence to decide the day. - -Where was St. Ruth employed during these momentous struggles? Just where he -should have been, in front of his camp near the crest of the hill, watching -the fluctuations of the battle, issuing orders, and sending aid wherever -they were needed. Our chaplain says that he was so pleasurably excited by -the charges of his central infantry to the very line of the British -batteries that he flung his gold-laced hat into the air, extolling the -bravery of the Irish infantry, and exclaiming that "he would now drive back -the English to the gates of Dublin." - -{129} - - How the Pass of Aughrim was Forced. - -So far the Irish forces were sustained in their gallant struggle; but now -the scale of fortune began to waiver. Their final defeat began in a quarter -from which it was totally unlooked for by either themselves or their -antagonists. The castle of Aughrim, so well garrisoned, looked on a narrow -pass crossed by the stream before mentioned, but a little to the S. E. this -isthmus of firm land opened out to a tolerably wide space "in the shape of -a spindle furnished with its complement of thread." Here at about this time -of the fight, the extreme right of the English force planted some cannon, -and cleared of its defenders the gorge of the isthmus just between them and -the space before the castle. So far a step was made in the right direction; -they were enabled to make the next by the stupidity or treachery of an -officer who had been directed to send to Urrachree a detachment from the -second or rear line of the army toward the left. Along with this complement -he sent away a battalion from the front line; [Footnote 33] and this being -remarked by the English officers, three infantry battalions making use of -hurdles, slipped across the edge of the morass in front of the castle, -[Footnote 34] and took possession of a cornfield on the Irish side. The -Irish musketeers stationed behind the hedges in that quarter, aware of the -wide breach in the main columns behind them, retreated after delivering one -discharge, and took refuge in the hollow near the castle, the post of the -reserve cavalry. A troop of these coming to the rescue, the Englishmen took -to the shelter of the hedges where they had little to fear from a charge. - - [Footnote 33: Colonel Henry Luttrell having had to do in this transfer - of the front line force where they were needed, gave a color to the - tradition of his having "sold the pass at Aughrim."] - - [Footnote 34: Let it be borne in mind that the castle was on the north - side of the narrow road or pass, and that its defenders had before - their eyes the N.E. side of Kilcomedan and the morass so often - mentioned. The village of Aughrim lay to the west of the castle, and - Irish reserve force partly between castle and village.] - -This successful manoeuver encouraged the passage of two other regiments -nearer to the centre, namely, those commanded by Lord George Hamilton and -Sir Henry Belasyse, and the moment seemed favorable for the approach of the -cavalry through the defile which they had cleared of its guards as already -mentioned. They were accompanied by infantry, who not being restricted to -the narrow limit of the boggy road, were prepared to fire on all the -visible defenders of the occupants of the outer works of the place. After -all, it is really difficult to account for the apparently rash movement. -There were 2,000 men in and about the castle, and two field-pieces were in -readiness to rake the pass in front. What possibility was there that a line -of horsemen two or three abreast, unable to return the fire of the -protected enemy, could escape destruction? We knew that small parties of -men have exposed their lives as on forlorn-hope enterprises, but here were -whole regiments. - -Could it be that the leaders were aware that the danger to be incurred did -not exceed in degree the ordinary risks of warfare? - -The chaplain says in reference to the apparent danger of the attempt: - - "The French general seeing our men attempt to do this, askt, '_What - they meant by it?_ and being answered that they would certainly - endeavor to pass there, and attack him on the left, he is said to reply - with an oath, 'They are brave fellows; it's a pity they should be so - exposed.'" - -It is very probable that the words were uttered by the general, for the -long file of horses and cavaliers were distant only thirty yards from the -sheltered marksmen. - -The adventurous bands owed their safety to a direct interposition of -Providence, to a detestable deed of treachery, or to the grossest piece of -negligence or stupidity in the annals of warfare. - -{130} - -We are told that Colonel Walter Bourke, commander of the garrison, having -sent to the camp for ammunition, four barrels of gunpowder and four of -bullets were sent to him. But when the barrels of ball were opened, on the -approach of the enemy, the eyes of the men engaged in the operation were -blasted by the sight of cannon-balls! The confusion and misery of the -defenders, officers and men, may scarcely be comprehended. However, they -resorted to the only means in their power. To supply ammunition they loaded -with buttons, with nails, with bits of stone, with their ramrods when all -else was expended, and did what execution they could. - -The infantry regiments of Hamilton and Kirke, having found materials at -hand, barricaded a wide opening on the east side of the castle, in order to -prevent a charge on the cannon when passing from the Irish reserve in the -rere, and then they took possession of a dry ditch, whence they dislodged -the defenders of the castle's outworks, whose ammunition was expended, and -who for their misfortune lived before the bayonet was invented. - -The Irish reserve, hearing from the fugitives how things were going on, -sped round to the opening on their left, through which they might charge on -the advancing artillery train; but there they found themselves checkmated -by the barrier set up by the English infantry. They wheeled round, and, -having made the circuit of the castle, they found themselves face to face -with Lord Oxford's regiment, who, under Sir Francis Compton, had already -gained the open ground. A brisk engagement took place, and the English -cavalry were twice driven back, but, being soon re-enforced by the horse -and dragoons of De Rouvigny, Langston, Byerly, and Levingston, they made -good their footing, several being slain on both sides. - -It may well be supposed that St. Ruth was not a little surprised to see the -narrow and dangerous passage so well and safely achieved, and the lodgment -effected at the bottom of the hill by the English infantry. Still there was -nothing very disheartening in all this. He was at the head of a fine body -of cavalry; only four squadrons of the enemy had as yet effected a standing -at the north-east extremity of the hill; he and his troopers would charge -down and annihilate the rash intruders; and if need were, he could easily -summon the brave Earl of Lucan and his horse, who had been kept inactive to -this moment, and dared not stir till the word was given. - -Here a tirade might very appropriately come in against the spite of fortune -toward the Irish cause, and particularly toward the aspirations of the -single-minded and heroic Patrick Sarsfield. He had been kept at the fight -of the Boyne in attendance on the king; at Aughrim he sat his horse on one -side of Kilcomedan while the exciting battle game was being played at the -other, and in neither case had he an opportunity of charging, or ordering -to charge, or directing a movement, or striking a blow. A complete insight -into the workings of his troubled and ireful heart on these days would not -be desirable. - - - One Shot Decides the Victory. - -The general, doomed to enjoy but a few minutes more of existence, was -radiant with confident hope. Preparing for the final swoop, he cried, "They -are beaten; let us beat them to the purpose!" He gave some directions to an -artillery officer, placed himself at the head of his guard, and was about -to give the command to charge when his head was blown to pieces by a -cannon-ball! - -Does not it now seem an easy thing for the next in command then to have -sent at once to Lord Lucan, inform him of the fatal accident, and summon -him to take the chief command? It was a simple matter to charge on the -advancing columns, and through superiority in number and fresh untired -forces render what they had effected of no avail. No. A cloak was laid over -the body, and it was conveyed to the rere; part of the guard accompanied -it, and the rest soon followed. - -{131} - -The historians do not agree on the final resting-place of the body of the -gallant but ill-advised Frenchman, but the probability is that it was -conveyed to Athenry and interred in its roofless church; peace to his -memory! [Footnote 35] - - [Footnote 35: From the Green Book of Mr. O'Callachan, we extract - (abridged) a curious traditional passage connected with the death of - St. Ruth. The day before the battle, a neighboring gentlemen, by name - O'Kelly, presented himself before him demanding payment of sundry sheep - driven off his lands by the soldiers. The general refused, alleging - that he should not grudge food to the men who were fighting for him and - his country. O'Kelly persisting, the general used harsh language, and - the other turning to his herdsman, bade him in Irish to mark St. Ruth - and his appearance. "You are robbed, master," said the herd, "but - anyhow, ask for the skins." These were needed by the soldiers for bed - furniture, and all that master and herd obtained by the second request - was a preemptory order to be gone. They obeyed and sought the English - general, who recommended them to the care of a certain artillery - officer named Trench. When the passage before the castle was made, - Trench got his piece of ordinance fixed in an advantageous place on the - edge of the marsh by means of planking, and as soon as the treacherous - herd caught sight of St. Ruth he cried out, "Take aim! There he is, a - man dressed like a bandsman." One wheel of the carriage being lower - than was requisite, Trench put his boot under it, and everything being - adjusted aim was taken, and O'Kelly and his herd got their revenge, and - the favor of the ruling powers.] - -However unaccountable it may seem, Sarsfield received no intelligence of -St. Ruth's death till it was too late to repair the mischance. Meanwhile -the English who had crossed at Aughrim found time to assist their -struggling friends in the centre, and the musketeers were gradually driven -upward. The main body of Irish infantry on right of the centre were as much -discouraged by the death of Rev. Dr. Stafford, an energetic chaplain, as -the guards had been by that of the commander-in-chief. The right wing at -Urrachree, after incessant fighting, were obliged to retreat before the -increasing numbers of their assailants released from duty elsewhere, and -the English and Danish cavalry at Urrachree were at leisure to relieve the -Huguenot infantry on their right from the fierce attacks of the Irish -infantry to whom they had been opposed. - -It was now past sunset and the rout of King James's adherents had become -general, the last to retreat being the infantry next to Urrachree, who had -done such good service against the regiments of La Mellonière, Du Cambon, -and Belcassel. - - - After the Battle. - -The infantry fled to the protection of the large red bog on their left, and -the cavalry made an orderly retreat south-west, along the road to Loughrea. -The poor infantry were slaughtered without mercy by the pursuing cavalry, -but a thick mist mercifully sent saved the lives of many. An ingenious -diversion in their favor was made by a brave and thoughtful officer of the -old race of O'Reilly, who, getting on a small eminence, sounded the charge -for battle, and stopped for a few minutes the bloody pursuit. One skilled -in the domestic economy of battles may explain why the Irish cavalry did -not combine and present a strong and effective obstacle to the English -horse, while the poor fellows on foot were getting away under their -shelter. The present writer being a mere civilian can allege no sufficient -reason. Neither does he seek to excuse the party to whom the garrison in -the old castle surrendered. Two thousand living men occupied the premises -in the morning, and of these (the few killed excepted) only the commander, -Walter Bourke, eleven officers, and forty soldiers, were granted their -lives. To account for the absence of mercy on the English side it was -asserted that NO QUARTER was among the instructions given to the Irish -before the battle. We are not in condition to decide whether the fact was -so or not. - -The number of killed and wounded on both sides is variously estimated. -Story says the Irish loss was 7,000. Others state it at 4,000. Captain -Parker, on the English side, says that there were slain of the allied -troops, about 3,000. This is a problem in the solution of which we feel no -interest. -{132} -We are gratified by the heroism displayed on both sides, and our -gratification would be much enhanced by finding it recorded that when -resistance ceased, quarter was generously granted. With few exceptions this -was not the case. Ardent partisan as the chaplain was, we are sure that his -better feelings were stirred by what he looked on "three days after when -all our own and some of theirs were interred." - - "I reckoned in some small enclosures 150, in others 120, &c., lying most - of them by the ditches where they were shot, and the rest from the top of - the hill, where their camp had been, looked like a great flock of sheep, - shattered up and down the countrey for almost four miles round." - -Were we sure of keeping our temper we would here commence a lay sermon on -the iniquity of those, whether emperors, kings, presidents, or evil -oouncillors, who for wretched objects, in which vanity or covetousness has -chief share, arm myriads of children of the great human family against each -others' lives, and feel neither pity nor remorse at the sight of poor naked -human remains, flung broadcast over heath, and moors, and hill-sides, like -grey stones, or the scattered sheep of our chaplain's illustration. - -The English occupiers of the ground after the battle buried only their own -dead, unless where the presence of the other bodies interfered with their -convenience, and as the inhabitants of the neighborhood had quitted their -homes when the expectation of a battle became strong, the bodies of the -Irish soldiers remained above ground till nothing but the bones were left. -We quote an affecting incident from our chaplain relative to this sad -condition of things: - - "Many dogges frequented the place long afterwards, and became so fierce - by feeding upon man's flesh, that it became dangerous for any single man - to pass that way. And there is a true and remarkable story of a greyhound - (wolfhound?) belonging to an _Irish_ officer. The gentleman was - killed and stripped in the battle, whose body the dog remained by, night - and day; and though he fed upon other corps with the rest of the dogs, - yet, he would not allow them or anything else to touch that of his - master. When all the corps were consumed all the dogs departed, but this - used to go in the night to the adjacent villages for food, and presently - to return to the place where his master's bones were only then left. And - thus he continued till January following, when one of Col. Faulk's - soldiers being quartered nigh hand, and going that that way by chance, - the dog, fearing he came to disturb his master's bones, flew upon the - soldier, who being surprised at the suddenness of the thing, unslung his - piece thereupon his back and killed the poor dog." - -Though our drama cannot conclude till the articles come to be signed at -Limerick, the fight we have endeavored to describe with full justice to -both parties, may be considered the catastrophe or _denouement_ of the -piece, no engagement of its magnitude or so decisive in its results having -taken place afterward. - - - From Aughrim to Limerick - -Sarsfield, at the head of the cavalry and some infantry, proceeded to -Limerick after the defeat of Aughrim; D'Usson conducted the main body of -the infantry to Galway, before which city De Ginckel arrived on the 20th of -the month. D'Usson had but few of the qualities requisite for a good -military chief, and negotiations were entered on next day, the Irish -evacuating the city, and the English general allowing them to proceed to -Limerick with the honors of war, and all the conveniences in his power to -afford them. - -After Baldearg O'Donnel had much excited the expectations of the country -being freed through his valor and wisdom, he is found at this time a mere -chief of straggling parties, a greater terror to the natives by their -exactions than to the common enemy. He opened a correspondence with the -English general, and like some modern patriots was rewarded for the -annoyance he had hitherto given the English Government by a valuable -pension for life. - -{133} - -Such was not the system acted on by our brave old acquaintance, Thigue -O'Regan, now a knight, and Governor of Sligo. Baldearg having deserted his -old-fashioned and loyal associate, Sir Thigue found himself on the 13th of -September at the head of 600 men and provided with twelve days' food, the -town and part of the citadel in the enemy's hands, and 5,000 fresh men sent -against him by Lord Granard ready to smash his fortifications, or starve -him into a sense of his condition. The little man of the long periwig, red -cloak, and plumed hat, had a head as well as a heart. He capitulated and -received all the respect due to loyalty and courage. He and his garrison -were conducted out with honor, their twelve days' provisions (their own -residue) given them, and all conveniences supplied them for their march to -Limerick. To honor the peppery old knight, the same terms were granted to -all the little garrisons in that country. - -Omitting negotiations, marches, and petty affairs, important only to those -concerned, we come to De Ginckel's camp at Cariganless (as our chaplain -spells the name) in his progress to Limerick. On August 25th, the army left -that town. - - - Limerick's Last Defence. - -On the 26th of August the besiegers of Limerick were at their posts, and on -the 30th the bombardment commenced. It was so severe and spread such -devastation within Irish town that many inhabitants took their beds and -migrated to the English town within the arms of the river, and Lords -Justices and delicate ladies and sundry lovers of quiet set up their rest -two miles inland in Clare. On the 10th of September forty yards of the -defending wall of English town were reduced to rubbish, but the arm of the -river was in the way, and no assault followed. - -September 15th a bridge of boats was laid across the Shannon toward -Annabeg, and a large detachment of English horse and foot crossed to the -right bank of the Shannon. These took up their station beyond -Thomond-bridge, the Irish cavalry, whose place that was, being obliged to -remove to Sixmile-bridge. The laying of the bridge and the passage of the -detachment were effected through the gross negligence or treachery of -Brigadier Clifford, who was tried by a court martial for the offence. He -acknowledged the negligence, but stoutly denied the treason. Colonel Henry -Luttrell [Footnote 36] proved traitor without any doubt, and was kept close -prisoner till King James's will could be ascertained. Before that time came -the fortress was given up and Luttrell set at liberty. England rewarded him -for his intentions; and his name has since been a word of ill-omen in the -mouths of the Irish peasantry. - - [Footnote 36: This is the same Colonel Luttrell who sold the pass at - Aughrim, as before mentioned. Ed. C. W.] - -22d. De Ginckel attacked the Irish post on the Clare side of -Thomond-bridge. The three regiments of Kirke, Tiffin, and Lord George -Hamilton, overpowered Colonel Lacy with his 700 men, and when these sought -shelter in the city, they found themselves shut out by the town major, a -Frenchman, who feared that the foes would enter pell-mell with the friends. -Little quarter was given, and only 130 got the privilege of being made -prisoners of war. This is one of those instances in which the Irish party -suffered so fatally from the treachery or detestable negligence of some -among themselves. - -The Duke of Tyrconnel died at the residence of D'Usson during the siege. - -This was the last trial of arms between the friends of William and James in -Ireland. Next day a truce was agreed on and preliminaries of peace -commenced. With the "Conditions of Limerick," a dismal household word with -the peasantry of Ireland from that hour to the present, we shall not -meddle. They do not come within our scope, which merely embraces the -stirring events of the three years' campaign, our design being to present -these in a picturesque and interesting light, and in a spirit of genuine -impartiality. This being our design, we have seized on everything that -could reflect honor or credit on the chiefs of both parties, or the conduct -of the common soldiers. We have found much more rancor and want of humanity -distinguishing both parties, the military chiefs excepted, then we could -wish. These we have softened as much as truth would permit. No one reading -our sketches but will, as we hope, think better of the party whose -principles he repudiates, than he did before the perusal. - ------- - -{134} - - Original - - - Asperges Me. - - by Richard Storrs Willis. - - - I - - Prostrate at thy altar kneeling, - Not a thought or fault concealing, - Hear me cry with inmost feeling, - _Domine, asperges me!_ - Ah! What sins I come confessing, - Since I last received thy blessing! - Yet with all this guilt oppressing, - Still I pled _asperges me!_ - - II - - Sins of thought, of word, of action, - Many a righteous law's infraction, - Many an hour of wild distraction-- - _Domine, asperges me!_ - Oft I think can Christ forgive me-- - With such guilt can he receive me? - What if my fond heart deceive me-- - _Dare_ I plead _asperges me!_ - - III - - Come I must, for thou dost bid me! - Ne'er for coming hast thou chid me! - From my guilt, ah! quickly rid me-- - _Domine, asperges me!_ - That my heavy heart grow lighter. - That my love for thee burn brighter, - That my soul than snow grow whiter, - _Domine, asperges me!_ - ------- - -{135} - - From The Month. - - Ancor-Viat--A New Giant City. - - -If any would-be discoverer of ancient monuments is envious of the laurels -of Mr. Layard and other celebrities of the same class, let him at once set -out by the overland route, and make his way as fast as he can to -Ancor-Viat. Few people have yet heard of it, but if what is said of it be -true, it must be simply the most stupendous collection of magnificent -monuments in the world. If the traveller in Central America, who, like Mr. -Stephens, quits the beaten tracks and plunges into the depths of vast -forests, is amazed at the ruins of Copan, Palenque, Uxmal, and Chichen, -with their huge truncated pyramids, palaces, corridors, and sculptured -bas-reliefs, he would, it seems, be still more surprised if he extended his -researches to the Empire of Annam, and, advancing toward the utmost -boundary of Cambodia, where it skirts Thibet, he came, mounted on an -elephant, to the gigantic temples and forests of marble pillars which mark -the site of which we speak. It was thus that a French officer in the -service of the King of Siam recently visited the spot; and the account he -has given of it may be found in the Revue de l'Architecture, and is in -great part reproduced in the Revue Contemporaine of December, 1866. No -European writer before him has ever mentioned it, and in reading his -letters we must make allowances for possible exaggeration. He is a mandarin -of the third class, and has obtained the rank of general in command of the -Siamese army. M. Perrin (for such is his name) proposes revisiting -Ancor-Viat with a complete photographic apparatus; and when he has done -this, and had given us the pleasure of examining his photographs, we shall -be better able to judge of his veracity. Meanwhile the editor of the Revue -Contemporaine is of opinion that the clearness and simplicity of his -account leaves little room for doubting its truth. - -When M. Perrin first visited Ancor-Viat, he saw nothing of its ancient -splendor; for in "Indian China," as in Central America, monuments of large -dimensions and great beauty are often unknown to the people who dwell -within a few hundred yards of them. The concourse of intelligent and -wealthy travellers alone teaches ignorant natives the value of their own -surroundings. On his second journey M. Perrin's attention was directed to -the ruins by a curious circumstance. The King of Kokien pays a yearly -tribute to the King of Siam in kind, and among the articles saltpetre -figures largely. In the whole of India beyond the Ganges--in the Birman -Empire, Siam, Malacca, and Annam--the people, children-like, have a -passion for fireworks, and consequently consume a large quantity of -saltpetre. Now the excrement of bats and night-birds that haunt in great -abundance the cities of the dead furnishes, it seems, a copious supply of -this substance, and is, in fact, as fruitful in the production of squibs -and rockets as guano--the dung of Peruvian sea-birds--is in the cultivation -of corn and rye. It is collected by malefactors who work in chains, and is -dissolved in water mixed with ashes. After some days the water and ashes, -with the macerated dung strongly impregnated with ammonia, is passed -through tight sieves, and exposed in big caldrons to the action of huge -fires. -{136} -The entire substance then evaporates leaving behind it crystals of -saltpetre. The East was famous of old for the manufacture of nitre; and we -have all have noticed how it forms spontaneously on the walls of stables, -slaughter-houses, cellars, and the like, from the decomposition of animal -matter, and even from the breath and sweat of beasts. - -No wonder M. Perrin was struck as a foreigner by the strange spectacle of -convicts collecting bird-dung. The birds of night have a strong affinity -for ruins, and crumbling towers and terraces are--to use an expression of -Virgil's-- - - "Dirarum nidis domus opportuna volucrum." - -It was along the northern part of the great city of Ancor-Viat that M. -Perrin halted frequently to watch the culprits of Cambodia plying their -foul task. During six days of elephant march he travelled on without coming -to the end of the city. Here and there be penetrated into the ruins where -explorers had opened a passage. No one, he says, would believe him if he -told all be saw. The monuments, the palaces, the temples, the pillars, -stairs, and blocks of marble pass description. The circle of the ruins was -computed by the people of the country at ten or twelve leagues in diameter. -Now considering that London, with its three millions of inhabitants, -measures about eleven miles from east to west, and that Ancor-Viat by this -calculation covered about three times as much ground, there must have been -a pretty large concourse of human beings under the shadow of its colossal -halls. It may have been the capital of an empire; it may have been an -empire in itself. There, doubtless, as in the ancient cities of Mexico, the -rich and the great dwelt in spacious edifices, with gardens and groves -enclosed, while the poorer sort herded together in huts like those of the -rudest tribes of Indians. There were no parliaments and philanthropic -societies then to look after the dwellings of the poor; as space was no -object in those days, they made up for straitened accommodation at home by -plenty of spare room for building within the walls. Subaltern officers in -the British army in Ceylon, who have surveyed that island of late years, -report cities of enormous size, and covered in with jungle, as inviting -excavation. Anarajaphpoorra, they tell us, must have been larger than -London, and Polonarooa (be indulgent to the spelling, ye students of -Cingalee!) contains statues of Anak height. The recumbent Buddha in the -last of these two cities is 24 feet in length, and the Buddhist temples, -built of a kind of granite, are huge in proportion. What bullock-power and -elephant-power it must have required to move blocks of stone so unwieldy in -an age when machinery and engineering were unknown! What thews must these -Titans have had, before the time of eastern effeminacy, to build their -towers of uncemented ashlars piled up like "Pelion upon Ossa"! M. Perrin -assures us that he saw in Ancor-Viat temples in a good state of -preservation, but overrun with weeds and shrubs, which measured a league in -circuit. Pillars rose around him on every side, tall as cedars, and all in -marble. The stairs, though partly buried under the soil, still mounted much -higher than the noble flights one sees at Versailles or on the Piazza di -Spagna at Rome. The buildings in some places were as solid as if they had -been raised yesterday. According to local tradition, they are four or five -thousand years old; and yet, but for lightning and the overgrowth of -luxuriant vegetation, they would even at this day be perfect and intact. -"Oh! that I had brought a photographic apparatus with me!" exclaims this -traveller. "I assure you, whether you believe it or no, that the most -famous monuments ancient or modern which we can boast of are mere sheds -compared with what I have seen: our palaces, our basilicas, the Vatican, -Colosseum, and the like, are just dog-kennels to it, and nothing more!" - -{137} - -If we had never heard of the Indian cities of Central America which the -tribes are supposed to have deserted six or seven hundred years ago, when -warned by their priests of the coming of the Spaniards, we might feel -disposed to reject M. Perrin's account as no less fabulous than the travels -of Baron Munchausen. But when we follow the steps of Captain Del Rio and -Captain Du Paix, and still more those of Mr. Stephens in Chiapas and -Yucatan; when we see them working their way through dense forests in -Honduras with fire and axe, and arriving at a wall six hundred feet long -and from sixty to ninety in height, forming one side of an oblong enclosure -called the Temple, while the other three sides are formed by a succession -of pyramids and terraced walls that measure from thirty to a hundred and -forty feet in height, we are not easily repelled by any report of ancient -cities merely because the measurements in it run very high. There was a -phase in the history of civilization when half barbarous races who knew not -the use of iron, delighted in constructing lasting monuments, and made up -for beauty of detail by huge proportions, and for writing and hieroglyphics -by picture-painting. M. Perrin may be guilty of great exaggeration, but we -ought not to charge him with it too hastily. Modern research has more than -verified all that the Spaniards vaguely reported of the cities of the West, -where immense artificial mounds are crowned with stately palaces, and the -dauntless industry of former races is proved by the provision they made for -water supply in a dry and thirsty land--by the vast reservoirs for water -which have been excavated, and are found to be paved and lined with -stone--by the pits around the ponds intended to furnish supplies or water -when the upper basin was empty in the height of summer--by the wells hidden -deep in the rock, and reached by the patient water-carriers by pathways cut -in the mountain to a depth or 450 feet, and conducting them to that depth -by windings 1400 feet in length--by the long ladders, made of rough rounds -of wood and bound together with osiers, up which the Indians carried, and -still carry, on their backs from these deep sources the water requisite for -the consumption of 7,000 persons or more, according to the size of the -villages, during four months of the year--and by the subterranean chambers, -which the Indians of old probably used as granaries for maize, and which -were made, like the ingenious cisterns just spoken of, by slaves obedient -to more intelligent masters. These and similar discoveries in America add a -color of probability to the description M. Perrin has given of Ancor-Viat -in Asia. At the same time we would rather he had not forgotten his -photographic machine. - -"I was anxious," he says, "to ascend to a temple that seemed tolerably -perfect. There were eleven staircases, of I know not how many stairs each, -to reach the first five only of peristyles! I began climbing at half-past -six in the morning, and at half-past seven I had barely been able to -examine two or three of the lower apartments. I was obliged to shorten my -stay, fearing that I should have to descend the stairs while the sun was -hot. All the walls are sculptured and ornamented. The first effect the -ruins produced on me was that of stupefaction. Yet I am not a man to cry -out with astonishment at trifles. The following day I went up by a winding -staircase to the top of an immense tower situated on a height, from whence -I enjoyed a good view of the surrounding remains. In hollows and parts -where one cannot penetrate there are palaces of colossal height and -grandeur. I had an excellent opera-glass, and could observe the details. An -untold store of architectural treasures was before me, stretching as far as -the frontier of Cambodia, which is ten or twelve leagues off! Just think -what Paris would be in ruins. Heaps of stones and ashlars scattered over a -surface no more than two or three leagues in diameter. Here there is on the -ground, and under the ground, marble, already hewn, enough to build after -the fashion of giants all the cities in the universe!" - -{138} - -This is indeed a climax; and one needs to pause and take breath before -following M. Perrin any further up his winding stairs. Can we attach any -credit to one who is so lavish in the use of words and figures? He has -evidently a supreme disregard for nice distinctions, and ordinary measures -of time and place. Marble enough in Ancor-Viat to build all the cities in -the world? _C'est un peu fort, M. Perrin._ But let us hear him to the -end. We can believe a good deal about cities excavated or still -underground, for we have seen several such with our own eyes; but credulity -itself has its limits. "I saw," M. Perrin continues, "the leg of a statue -the great toe of which measured eleven times my fowling-piece in the -length. It is in marble, like the rest of the figure; there is no other -stones here used for building, except colored stones, which are employed as -borders or for the eyes of statues. There are pedestals with flights of -steps, of which the crowning images have disappeared, as high and as large -as St. Germain l'Auxerrois. Fancy octagonal pyramids cut short at half -their proper height--all in marble, recollect. Who the devil raised all -this? If it was some famous dynasty, it cannot be very well satisfied with -the oblivion into which it has fallen, in spite of its sumptuous monuments. -What are the ruins of Palenque, or even Thebes with its hundred gates, or -of Babylon, compared with this unknown city without history and without -name?" - -Now, setting aside Thebes and Babylon, it may be well to compare what we -really know of Palenque with the general's singular account of Ancor-Viat. -It is more than a hundred years since the Spaniards first heard of it from -the Indians, and the reports of its extent differ as widely now as they did -then. The natives say the ruins cover an area of sixty miles; Du Paix and -Del Rio seven leagues; and Waldeck about three miles. But though travellers -are not agreed as to their extent, they are quite unanimous as to the -remains themselves. All admit that they are "unique, extraordinary, and -mournfully beautiful." The largest building is on a mound forty feet high, -raised by the hands of man, originally faced with stones, and measuring 310 -feet by 260 at the base. It is richly adorned with paintings in the style -proper to the ancient cities of Mexico; the corridors are sumptuous, the -flights of steps broad, and the figures of giant proportions, uncouth and -expressive of suffering. The tallest statue, however, that has been -discovered is only ten feet six inches high, by which it appears that the -stone figures of Mexican Indians were dwarfish compared with the huge -heroes and idols of the East. M. Perrin had been questioned about the -existence of religious monuments in the eastern Peninsula of India, and the -answers which he returned are as follows: "Sacred stones are found here. -Some of them are simply rocks which at some period or other were -sufficiently soft to receive very clearly the impressions of the feet of -men and animals. Of this sort the one most highly venerated is that of the -Buddhist monastery at Phrabat. An immense number of pilgrims visit it -annually. Others are enormous monoliths raised on socles roughly quarried. -If there ever were any inscriptions, they have been effaced. I have also -seen here gateways or arches of triumph built of huge stones laid one upon -another. What giants or what machines moved these immense blocks? They -stand alone. Not a vestige of any building is near them. Sometimes there -are not even any quarries to be found within a great distance. I saw two -such monuments as those I now speak of among the Stiengs, when I conducted -a military expedition against them. They stood in the midst of marshy and -almost impassable forests, and had certainly never before been seen by any -European. -{139} -Some of the people of Laos had spoken to me of these remains, but I very -nearly missed seeing them. The difficulties in the way of getting to them -were so great that at first I did not think they would be worth the -trouble. But they amply repaid me. I examined them most carefully with a -powerful glass. They did not appear to bear any inscriptions. Even the -luxuriant vegetation of the tropics had been unable to disjoint them. What -roots could rend asunder these stones laid one upon the other without -cement, and raise so heavy a weight? The side-supports were, I believe, as -high as the top-stone laid across was long. The soil is evidently raised by -the vigorous growth that marks the vegetation of these forests. These -remains must rest on monolith socles or on the rock, or on gigantic -foundations; for the ground on the surface is so soft and wet that you may -easily thrust a cane into it up to the handle." - -When M. Perrin inquired of the natives who reared these monuments, they -replied the Gai; and by the Gai they meant some barbarous white men, who -came from the land of perpetual snow, who were as tall as three Siamese, -and whose fingers and toes, though articulated, were not separate from one -another. They rode on horses double the size of those now seen, but bones -of which are often found in the earth. Impious men were these Gai; they -hunted elephants, and feasted on their flesh; they offered sacrifices of -blood to their gods. Chinese merchants informed the general that monuments -of the same huge description are to be found in the north and west of -China, and that the people there call them "giants' stones." The traveller -in Central America is, we know, sometimes amazed to find monstrous blocks -evidently hewn by the hands of men, yet hundreds of leagues distant from -any calcareous strata. Men in the neighborhood who are learned in other -matters are quite at fault when their opinion respecting them is asked. -Some will tell you that the nature of the soil is changed from what it was -before the conquest, and others that the Incas had means of transport -unknown to us. Probably there are quarries of granite under the surface of -the savannas; but how the Indians could extract the stone without gunpowder -or machinery is a problem we are unable to solve. - -Important discoveries are not always due to scientific and discerning men. -The earliest accounts of anything new and surprising are likely to be -overdrawn; but they are not the less valuable from this circumstance. Their -very exaggeration may stimulate inquiry, and thus be an advantage rather -than otherwise in the outset. It was a poor Tungusian fisherman who -discovered the most perfect specimen of the mammoth near the mouth of the -river Lena, nearly seventy years ago, and his sale of the creature's tusks -for fifty rubles led to an accurate knowledge of the monster's structure -and habits, as well as to a great extension of the trade in ivory derived -from mammoths' tusks. General Perrin's testimony appears to us well worthy -of attention, in spite of its being highly colored here and there. It may, -on the whole, fall far short of the reality, and may lead to the solution -of questions of importance in oriental history. - - --------- - - Original - - On the Planting of the Cross. - - Dig deep: the tree will surely grow, - And spread its branches far and wide; - No tree had e'er such fruit to show, - Nor with its shade so much to hide. - --------- - -{140} - - - Miscellany. - -_The Cathedral Library at Cologne._--In the year 1794, when the French -Revolutionary army advanced to the Rhine, the valuable library attached to -the Cologne Cathedral was conveyed for safety to Darmstadt. Among its -treasures are one hundred and ninety volumes, chiefly in manuscript. A -careful catalogue of them was made so far back as 1752, by Harzheim, a -learned Jesuit, under the title of "An Historical and Critical Catalogue of -the Manuscripts of the Library of the Metropolitan Church of Cologne." This -valuable collection dates as far back as Charlemagne. It was commenced by -Hildebold, Archbishop of Cologne, and archchancellor of that monarch, in -the year 783. It was considerably increased by gifts from Pope Leo the -Third to the Emperor Charles in 804. The Archbishops Heribertus, Evergerus, -Hanno, and their successors, continued the collection by the purchase of -rare manuscripts and copies of ancient parchments. In the year 1568, -Hiltorp, in the preface of his work "On Divine Offices," dedicated to -Archbishop Salentin, alludes more than once to this rare collection. We -might quote many other authorities to authenticate the manuscripts. Jacob -Pamelius, in a work published at Cologne in 1577, entitled "The Liturgy of -the Latin Church" (who is quoted by Harzheim in his book "The old Codexes -of Cologne"), distinctly gives their date and origin. The collection -consists of eight parts, namely: 1. Bibles; 2. The Fathers; 3. -Ecclesiastical Law; 4. Writers on Sacrifices, Sacraments, Offices of the -Church, and Liturgies; 5. Histories; 6. Ascetics; 7. Scholastics; 8. -Philosophical, Rhetorical, and Grammatical writers. Some of these -manuscripts are richly illuminated, and some set with precious stones. The -first codex dates from the ninth century, if not earlier, which is -indicated by the capital letters, which are in gold. The seventh codex -contains the Gallic, Roman, Hebrew, and Greek Psalmody, as edited by St. -Jerome--"a most rare and valuable codex." The twelfth codex, in elegant -folio, adorned with many illuminations and annotations of the eighth -century, comprises the four Gospels. Codex one hundred and forty-three -deserves particular mention. As frontispiece, there is a portrait of -Archbishop Evergerus in his episcopal robes. It is richly illuminated and -set with jewels. The above quotations, which we have translated from the -Latin, in which language the catalogue is written, will suffice to give -such of our readers as are bibliophiles some idea of a treasures which will -shortly be restored to the shelves of the library attached to the Cologne -Cathedral. We may mention another restoration which is on the eve of -accomplishment. The celebrated collection of pictures, known as the -Dusseldorf collection, will shortly be returned to Prussia, negotiations -having already commenced for that purpose. The collection, which comprises -some of the finest specimens of the German and Dutch schools, is at present -at Munich.--_All the Year Round_. - - -_On the Movements of the Heart_.--In a recent memoir Dr. Sibson -describes his experiments on the movements of the heart, which were made on -the ass under the influence of wourali, and on dogs subjected to -chloroform. He found that the contraction of the ventricles takes please in -every direction toward a region of rest, which in the right ventricle -corresponds with the anterior papillary muscle in the left ventricle, with -a situation about midway between apex and base. Simultaneously with the -universal contraction of the ventricles there is universal distention of -both auricles, the pulmonary artery, and the aortae. The total amount of -blood contained in the heart and great vessels is the same during both -systole and diastole. During the ventricular contraction, however, the -distribution of the blood, lessened toward the region of the apex, balances -itself by being increased in that of the base, since the auricles and great -vessels are enlarged, not only toward the ventricles, but also outward and -upward. During ventricular dilatation the reverse takes place. - -{141} - -_The Physics of a Meteorite_.-In a recent note in the proceedings of -the Royal Society, the Rev. Samuel Haughton, of Trinity College, Dublin, -gives a very graphic account of the fall of an aërolite. The fire-ball was -seen by two peasants, who have given the following written statement of -their observations; and since the facts described by these ignorant men -correspond exactly with the facts theoretically believed to present -themselves, we think the description of the highest interest. It is headed, -The Statement of Eye-witnesses, and runs as follows: "I, John Johnson, of -the parish of Clonoulty, near Cashel, Tipperary, was walking across my -potato-garden at the back of my house, in company with Michael Falvy and -William Furlong, on August 12, 1865, at 7 P.M., when I heard a clap, like -the shot out of a cannon, very quick and not like thunder; this was -followed by a buzzing noise, which continued for about a quarter of an -hour, when it came over our heads, and, looking up, we saw an object -falling down in a slanting direction; we were frightened at the speed, -which was so great that we could scarcely notice it; but after it fell we -proceeded to look for it, and found it at a distance of forty yards, half -buried in the ground, where it had struck the top of a potato-drill. We -were some time looking for it (a longer time than that during which we -heard the noise). On taking up the stone we found it warm (milk warm), but -not enough to be inconvenient. The next day it was given up to Lord -Hawarden."--_Popular Science Review_. - - - -_The Earth and Moon in Collision_.--Mr. James Croll, who some time -since asserted that, owing to peculiar solar and lunar action, the above -extraordinary condition will eventually take place, has just published a -paper reasserting the truth of his proposition. The theory was opposed by -the astronomer royal and Professor William Thomson, who showed that, owing -to the position of the tidal wave, the moon is drawn not exactly in the -direction of the earth's centre of gravity, but a little to the east of -that centre, and that in consequence of this she is made to recede from the -earth. Her orbit is enlarged and her angular motion diminished. This -argument does not, in Mr. Croll's opinion, affect his view. The conditions -described by Professor Thomson and the astronomer royal do not in the least -degree prevent the consumption of the _vis viva_ of the earth's motion -round the common centre of gravity, although to a certain extent, at least, -it must prevent this consumption from diminishing the moon's distance, and -increasing her angular motion. But as this consumption of _vis viva_ -will go on through indefinite ages, if the present order of things remains -unchanged, the earth and the moon must therefore ultimately come -together.--_Ibid_. - - [Transcribers note: The moon is _receding_ from the earth at about 4 - cm. per year, based on _lunar laser ranging_ (2015).] - - -_Sanskrit Library_.--Prof. Goldstücker lately communicated to a -scientific meeting at London the intelligence he had received from Lahore -of the existence in that city of a most extensive Sanskrit Library in the -possession of Pandit Radha Kishen. From an examination of the catalogue -that had been sent to him, he was able to state that that library contained -a great many rare and valuable works, some of which had hitherto been -supposed to be lost. He had also been promised catalogues of similar -collections of Sanskrit MS. in other parts or India, of the contents of -which he would keep the Society informed as they came to hand. The paper -read was by Prof. Max Müller, "On the Hymns of the Gaupàyanas, and the -Legend of King Asamâti." After some remarks on the proper use to be made of -Sanskrit MSS., in general, and on the principles of criticism by which the -writer was guided in his edition of Sàyana's Commentary on the Rig-veda, he -proceeded to show by an example the characters of the three classes of MSS. -he had made use of, and the manner in which the growth of legends was -favored by the traditional interpretation of the Vedic Hymns. He had -selected for this purpose the four hymns of the Gaupâyanas (Mandala x., -57-60), and the Legend of King Asamâti quoted by Sàyana in explanation of -them; and then related the latter, according to the various forms in which -it has been handed down to us, from the simple account given in the Tàndya -Brahmana and Katyàyana's Sarvânukrama, to the more expanded one in the -Satyâyanaka Brahmana, the Brehaddevatà and the Nitiananjarî. He then gives -a double translation of the hymns in question--one in strict conformity to -Sàyana's interpretation, and another in accordance with his own principles -of translation--the latter as a specimen of what he intends to give in his -forthcoming translation of the whole of the Rig-veda. -{142} -The writer concluded with a _resumé_ of the different points of -interest which these hymns, though by no means fair specimens of the best -religious poetry of the Brahmans, present; the healing powers of the hands, -the constant dwelling on divinities which govern the life of man, and the -clear conception of a soul as separate from the body--of a soul after death -going to Yama Vanasvata, the ruler of the departed, or hovering about -heaven or earth ready to be called back to a new life.--_Ibid_ - --------- - - Original - - New Publications. - - - A Conversation on Union Among Christians; - The Gospels Door of Mercy; - What Shall I do to Become a Christian? - The Church and Children; - A Voice In The Night, Or Lessons of the Sick Room; - The Gospel Church; - Who is Jesus Christ? - - Tracts Nos. 13-19; - Catholic Publication Society, - 145 Nassau St., New-York - - -The number of Tracts issued and distributed by the Catholic Publication -Society through direct sales and the aid of auxiliary societies is so great -that its noble and zealous project must, by this time, have become a -subject of interest to every Catholic in the country. It is hardly one year -since the first steps were taken to establish it, and already over _half -a million_ Tracts have been distributed through the length and breadth -of the land. This distribution goes on increasing; that made in the month -of February alone amounted to _seventy-five thousand_. Large orders -are constantly coming in for the books and tracts issued by the Society -from the Rt. Rev. Bishops, the Rev. Clergy, and zealous laymen of every -condition of life. - -Encouraged by these marks of universal approbation, and accredited with the -high sanction of our late Plenary Council, the Society will enter upon its -work this spring, upon a scale commensurate with the increasing demands -made upon it for its publications and the magnitude of its enterprise. A -Publication House will be obtained, supplied with its own types and presses -and bindery, which will enable it to conduct its operations with greater -rapidity, and furnish its publications at the lowest possible cost. Not a -few have expressed themselves surprised at its present unparalleled -success, and are anxious to know by what means so much has been -accomplished in so short a time. - -For the information of the readers of the CATHOLIC WORLD, who, we are sure, -are all deeply interested in the work, it may be stated that a good fund -was contributed by a number of wealthy gentlemen, principally in New York, -that enabled it to begin its work, and which has been increased by the -proceeds of lectures delivered in the diocese of Boston, Albany, and -New-York, the aid of auxiliary societies, and the sales of tracts and -books. - -It cannot be denied that within even the last five years, our holy religion -has made great advances in the spiritual care of its own children, in the -multiplication of churches, the foundation of seminaries for the -priesthood, the greater interest shown in the working of Sunday schools and -religious associations of both sexes, as well as in the numerous -conversions that have been made from the different denominations of -Protestants, and in the earnest consideration of the claims of the Catholic -Church manifested by the people of our country, of whom so many have -hitherto been either indifferent to, or ignorant of it. - -The Catholic Publication Society being by its very character a ready arm -for the diffusion of Catholic truth, must therefore commend itself to the -warmest sympathies and generous co-operation of every Catholic who rejoices -to see his holy faith spreading abroad and winning a multitude of souls to -a knowledge of Christian truth and the practice of Christian virtues. In -fact, the Society owes its existence to the ardently cherished wish of a -large class for such an organization, which found an almost simultaneous -expression. -{143} -Letters of encouragement and inquiry are being constantly received from the -venerable bishops and clergy, heads of literary and benevolent -associations, superintendents of Sunday-schools, and from different -individuals in the humblest walks of life. The news of the enterprise has -even penetrated to some of the most distant parts of the world; as is shown -by a letter of sympathy containing an offer of inter-communion sent to the -Society by a zealous priest in Bombay, India, who had started a Publication -Society in that far-off city. - -It may not be judged out of place to repeat here the article of the -constitution referring to the conditions of membership. It will show any of -our readers who desire to become copartners in this great work, and thereby -secure for themselves the blessing of having aided in the "instruction of -many unto salvation," how they may practically bring that aid to bear upon -the realization of their pious desires. - - "Any person paying, at one time, one hundred dollars into the treasury of - the Society, may by request, become a 'Patron,' and shall be entitled to - receive three dollars' worth of the Society's publications annually. - - "Any person paying fifty dollars at one time may become a Life Member, - and shall be entitled to receive two dollars' worth of the Society's - publications annually. - - "Any person paying thirty dollars may become a member for five years, and - shall be entitled to receive one dollar's worth of the Society's - publications for five years. - - "Persons paying five dollars at one time shall be members for one year, - and be entitled to receive of the Society's publications to the value of - half a dollar." - -It is plain, however, that while many will be found to associate themselves -as members of the General Society, in order to carry on the work in other -places, auxiliary societies should be formed which receive all the -publications at cost price. It is to the rapid formation of these auxiliary -associations that those many zealous friends of the work should turn their -attention. The same object will also be gained by making it one of the -labors of Societies of St. Vincent de Paul, guilds, confraternities, -sodalities, and the like. - -We have seen many communications in which inquiries have been made in -reference to the publication of illustrated tracts and Sunday-school books, -and the establishment of a cheap and attractive Sunday-school paper. The -Society has all these objects in contemplation, and will proceed to their -execution as soon as the Publication House is in operation. - -We would suggest, therefore, that each and every one who has this matter at -heart, will make personal efforts to aid the Society in the establishment -of the Publication House, by sending at once their own names as members -with as many more as they can procure, and take measures to found at least -one auxiliary society for home distribution in the community where they -reside. - -Our people have shown the greatest interest in the diffusion of Catholic -literature, and are ever ready to make heroic sacrifices, if necessary, for -any work of charity; and in the present aspect of affairs it must be -evident that one of the most urgent calls upon our Christian zeal and love -is that of bringing instruction home to the thousands who need it, and who, -experience has proved, receive it gladly. One little thought we cannot -refrain from expressing, suggested by a remark made in our hearing, that it -will be for us and our children, when time shall show us and them the happy -fruits of this truly Apostolic work, a most consoling reflection that we -were among those who first encouraged and aided it, and bade it "God speed" -as it started upon its high and glorious mission. - - - L'echo De La France. - Revue étrangère de Science et de Littérature. - Montreal: Louis Ricard, Directeur. - -By the Canadian public and the French-speaking portion of our population of -the States, this well-edited eclectic has, we are glad to know, received a -hearty welcome and a liberal support. It purposes to afford its readers a -choice selection of articles culled from the best European magazines and -reviews, chiefly those of France, and it certainly has accomplished its -task hitherto with much ability. It is not to everyone we would care to -confide the duty of choosing our literary repast from the current -literature of the day; and, to anyone at all acquainted with the French -periodicals, it must be evident that it would require a caterer, who is -himself possessed of high intellectual culture, to make from their pages a -judicious and worthy selection of articles suited to the varied tastes of -the American literary public. -{144} -The "Echo de la Franco" is happily conducted by a gentleman upon whose -judgment and taste in this matter we can confidently rely, if we may judge -from the numbers already issued. - -We have only to add that it has our best wishes, and we recommend it -especially to the notice of the readers of the CATHOLIC WORLD who are -acquainted with the French language. - - - Practical Hints On The Art Of Illumination. - By Alice Donlevy. - New-York: A. D. F. Randolph. 1867. - -Together with this useful and elegant publication we have received a set of -plates, designed by the same author, to illustrate the poem of Miss -Rossetti, called "Consider." - -The work is intended, as we are told in its preface, to instruct those who -wish to study illumination; to assist those who, having commenced, find -many stumbling-blocks in the way, and require aid in the minutiae of the -art; to furnish those who can paint, yet are unable to design with -outlines, to illuminate, etc. This beautiful art is fast becoming with our -young people a favorite recreation, and, with not a few, a remunerative -study. To such as desire to engage in its pursuit, whether for pleasure or -profit, we heartily recommend this volume as one calculated to give them -much desirable information on the subject. - - - Three Phases of Christian Love, - By Lady Herbert. L. Kehoe. 1867. - -We have received advanced sheets of this volume, which is to be presented -to the public in a few days. It is not our purpose to speak of it at length -in this place, but reserve it for a more extended and appreciative review -which we hope to give of it in the future pages of the CATHOLIC WORLD. - -It is a remarkable book; the purity and beauty of its style fitly according -with the saintly biographies which the distinguished authoress has so -happily chosen to illustrate the three phases of a Christian woman's life -and love. We have given as the life of St. Monica as the mother; of -Victorine de Galard Terraube, a young French lady of rank, as the maiden; -and of the Venerable Mère Devos, superior of the Sisters of Charity, as the -religious. It is a book we would wish to see placed in the hands of every -woman in our country; for, whatever be her position in society, or -whichsoever state of life she may have chosen, she will find in it an -example of high Christian and womanly perfection, the view of which must -claim her homage, and in turn exalt and refine her own character. - -Mr. Kehoe, in republishing Bentley's superb English edition, offers us a -volume of equal beauty and finish. As a publication it must claim the -attention of every connoisseur and lover of first-class books. - - - Lauretta and the Fables, - Compiled by the author of Philip Hartley, etc. - - Alice; or, The Rose of the Black Forest. - By the author of Grace Morton, etc. - - Three Petitions. A tale of Poland and - Trevor Hall. A Christmas story. - - Conrad and Gertrude: the Little Wanderers. - Peter F. Cunningham, Catholic Bookseller, Philadelphia. - -These four 16mo volumes form a very acceptable addition to our list of -Catholic tales for children. Their appearance is creditable to the -publisher. We hope those who have ability and leisure will furnish a larger -number of such stories for Sunday-school libraries. - - - Books Received. - -From Leypoldt & Holt. New-York. - - The Journal of Maurice de Guérin, - with an essay by Matthew Arnold, - and a memoir by Sainte-Beuve. Edited by - G. S. Trebutien. Translated by Edward Thornton - Fisher. 1 vol. 12mo., pp. 153. Price $1.25. - - Easy German Reading after a New System, by George Storme. - Revised by Edward A. Open. 1 vol. l2mo, pp.206. Price $1. - - -From P. F. Cunningham. Philadelphia. - - Conrad and Gertrude; - The Three Petitions, a Tale of Poland; - Alice, or the Rose of the Black Forest; - Lauretta and the Fables. - 4 vols. of the Young Catholics Library, - pp. 143, 141, 124, 126 - Price 50 cents each. - -From D. Appleton, New-York. - - The Merchant of Berlin; - an Historical Novel L. Mühlbach. - Translated from the German by Amory Coflin, M.D. - pp. 394. Price $2. - - Berlin and San Souci; or, Frederick the Great - and Friends. An Historical - Romance. By L. Mühlbach. Translated from - the German by Mrs. Chapman and her daughters. - pp. 391. Price $2. - -From J. J. O'Connor & Co., Newark. - - The exclusion of Protestant Worship from the City of Rome. - By the Rev. George H, Doane, pastor of St. Patrick's - Cathedral, Newark, N.J. Pamphlets. Price 20 cents. - --------- - -{145} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. V., No. 26.--May, 1867. - - - Original. - - An Old Quarrel. - - -Those of our readers who have studied with the care their importance -demands the papers on the "Problems of the Age" which have appeared in this -magazine, can not have failed to perceive that the great questions now in -discussion between Catholics and non-Catholics lie, for the most part, in -the field of philosophy, and require for their solution a broader and -profounder philosophy than any which obtains general currency outside of -the church. We think, also, that no one can read and understand them -without finding the elements or fundamental principles of a really Catholic -philosophy, which, while it rests on scientific truth for its basis, -enables us to see the innate correspondence or harmony of reason and faith, -science and revelation, and nature and grace--the principles of a -philosophy, too, that is no modern invention or new-fangled theory which is -brought forward to meet a present emergency, but in substance the very -philosophy that has always been held by the great fathers and doctors of -the church, and professed in Catholic schools and seminaries. - -Yet there is one point which the writer necessarily touches upon and -demonstrates as far as necessary to his purpose, which was theological -rather than purely philosophical, that, without interfering in the least -with his argument, already complete, may admit of a more special treatment -and further development. We refer to the objectivity and reality of ideas. -The reader acquainted with the history of philosophy in the middle ages -will perceive at once that the question of the reality of ideas asserted by -the writer takes up the subject-matter of the old quarrel of the -nominalists, conceptualists, and realists, provoked by the Proslogium of -St. Anselm, archbishop of Canterbury, in the eleventh century, really one -of the profoundest thinkers, greatest theologians, and ingenious -philosophers of any age. - -St. Anselm wished to render an account to himself of his faith, and to know -and understand the reasons for believing in God. He did not doubt the -existence of God; he indeed held that God cannot be thought not to be; he -did not seek to know the arguments which prove that God is, that he might -believe, but that he might the better know and understand what he already -believed. -{146} -Thus he says: "Necque enim quero intelligere ut credam, sed credo ut -intelligam. Nam et hoc credo quia nisi credidero, non intelligam." We -believe that we may understand, and we cannot understand unless we -believe--a great truth which modern speculators do not recognize. They -reverse the process, and seek to know that they may believe, and hold that -the first step to knowledge is to doubt or to deny. - -In his Monologium, St. Anselm had proved that God is, and determined his -attributes by way of induction from the ideas in the human mind, but it -would seem not wholly to his satisfaction, or, at least, that in writing -that work he discovered, or thought he discovered, a briefer and more -conclusive, method of demonstrating that God is. He had already proved by -psychological analysis, in the way Cousin and others have since done, that -the human mind thinks most perfect being, a greater than which cannot be -thought. This he had done in his Monologium. In his Proslogium he starts -with this idea, that of _ens perfectissimum_, which is, in fact, the -idea of God. "The fool says in his heart there is no God;" not because he -has no idea of God, not because he does not think most perfect being, a -greater than which cannot be thought, but because he does not understand -that, if he thinks it, such being really is. It is greater and more perfect -to be _in re_ than it is to be only _in intellectu_, and -therefore the most perfect being existing only in the mind is not a greater -than which cannot be thought, for I can think most perfect existing _in -re_. Moreover, if most perfect being does not exist _in re_, my -thought is greater and more perfect than reality, and consequently I can -rise above God, and judge him, _quod valde est absurdum_. - -Leibnitz somewhere remarks that this argument is conclusive, if we first -prove that most perfect being is possible; but Leibnitz should have -remembered that the argument _ab esse ad posse_ is always valid, and -that God is both his own possibility and reality. Cousin accepts the -argument, and says St. Anselm robbed Descartes of the glory of having -produced it. But it is evident to every philosophical student that the -validity of the argument, if valid it is, depends on the fact that ideas -are objective and real, that is, depends on the identity of the ideal and -the real. - -Roscelinus, or Rosceline, did not concede this, and pronounced the argument -of St. Anselm worthless. Confounding, it would seem, ideas with universals, -he denied their reality, and maintained that they are mere words without -anything either in the mind or out of it to respond to them, and thus -founded Nominalism, substantially what is now called materialism. He -rejects the universals and the categories of the peripatetics, and -recognizes only individual existences and words, which words, when not the -names of individual things, are void of meaning. Hence he denied the whole -ideal or intelligible world, and admitted only sensibles. Hobbes and Locke -were nominalists, and so is the author of Mill's Logic. Mr. Herbert Spencer -is a nominalist, but is better described as an atomist of the school of -Leucippus and Democritus, Epicurus and Lucretius. We know very little of -Rosceline, except that he lived in the eleventh century, was born in -Brittany, the native land of Abelard and Descartes, and incurred, for some -of his speculations concerning the Trinity, the censures of the church. -None of his writings have come down to us, and we know his doctrine only -from the representations of others. - -Guillaume de Champeaux, in the following century, who professed philosophy -for a time at St. Victor, and was subsequently Archbishop of Paris, is the -founder, in the middle ages, of what is called Realism, and which counts -among its disciples Duns Scotus and William of Occam. -{147} -He is said to have maintained the exact opposite of Rosceline's doctrine, -and to have held that ideas, or universals, as they then said, are not -empty words, but entities, existing _a parte rei_. He held, if we may -believe Abelard, that not only genera and species, but such abstractions as -whiteness, soundness, squareness, etc., are real entities. But from a -passage cited from his writings by Abelard, from which Abelard infers he -had changed his doctrine, Cousin, in his Philosophie Scholastique, argues -that this must have been an exaggeration and that Guillaume only held that -such so-called universals as are really genera and species have an -entitative existence. This is most probably the fact; and instead, then, of -being driven to change his doctrine from what it was at first, as Abelard -boasts, it is most likely that he never held any other doctrine. However -this may be, his doctrine, as represented by Abelard, is that which the old -realists are generally supposed to have maintained. - -Abelard follows Guillaume de Champeaux, with whom he was for the earlier -part of his career a contemporary. Confounding, as it would seem, ideas -with universals, and universals with abstractions, he denied alike -Rosceline's doctrine that they are mere words, and Guillaume de Champeaux's -doctrine that they are entities or existences _a parte rei_, and -maintained that they are conceptions, really existing _in mente_, but -not _in re_. Hence his philosophy is called Conceptualism. He would -seem to have held that universals are formed by the mind operating on the -concrete objects presented by experience, not, as since maintained by Kant, -that they are necessary forms of the understanding. Thus, _humanitas_, -humanity, is formed by the mind from the concrete man, or _homo_. -There is no humanity _in re_; there are only individual men. In the -word humanity the mind expresses the qualities which it observes to be -common to all men, without paying attention to any particular man. The idea -humanity, then, is simply the abstraction or generalization of these -qualities. Abelard, it would appear from this, makes what we call the race -a property or quality of individuals, which, of course, excludes the idea -of generation. There is, as far as we can see, no essential difference -between the conceptualism of Abelard and the nominalism of Rosceline; for, -by denying the existence _in re_ of genera and species, and making -them only conceptions, it recognizes as really existing only individuals or -particulars. - -St. Thomas Aquinas, than whom no higher authority in philosophy can be -named, and from whose conclusions few who understand them will be disposed -to dissent, differs from each of these schools, and maintains that -universals are conceptions existing _in mente cum fundamento in re_, -or conceptions with a basis in reality, which is true of all abstractions; -for the mind can form no conceptions except from objects presented by -experience. I could form no conception of whiteness if I had no experience -of white things, or of roundness if I had seen nothing round. I imagine a -golden mountain, but only on condition that gold and mountain are to me -objects of experience. This is certain, and accords with the peripatetic -maxim, _Nihil est in intellectu, quod prius non fuerit in sensu_, -which Leibnitz would amend by adding, _nisi ipse intellectus_, an -amendment which, perhaps, contains in germ the whole Kantian philosophy. - -But St. Thomas, as we shall see further on, does not confound ideal with -universals, nor does he hold genera and species to be simply the -abstraction or generalization of the qualities of individuals or -particulars. Genera and species are real, or there could be no generation. -But the genus or species does not exist apart from its individualization, -or as a separate entity. There are no individuals without the race, and no -race without individuals. Thus the whole race was individualized in Adam, -so that in his sin all men sinned. -{148} -But as genera and species, the only real universals, do not exist apart -from their particulars, and are distinctly possessed or apprehended only as -disengaged from their particulars, which is done only by a mental -operation, St. Thomas might say they exist _in mente cum fundamento in -re_, without asserting them to be real only as properties or qualities -of particulars. - -Plato is commonly held to be the father of the ideal philosophy or ideal -realism. We know very little of the philosophy that prevailed before him, -and cannot say how much of the Platonic philosophy is original with him, or -how much of it he took from his predecessors, but he is its originator as -far as our knowledge extends. It is from him that we have the word -_idea_, and his whole philosophy is said to be in his doctrine of -ideas; but what his doctrine of ideas really was is a question. He seems -when treating the question, What is it necessary to know in order to have -real science? to understand by idea _causa essentialis_, or the thing -itself, or what in anything is real, stable, and permanent, in distinction -from the sensible, the phenomenal, the variable, and the transitory. The -real existence of things is their ideas, and ideas are in the Logos or -divine mind. These ideas God impresses on an eternally existing matter, as -the seal upon wax, and so impressed they constitute particulars. Aristotle -accuses Plato of placing the ideas _extra Deum_, and making them -objects of the divine contemplation, but the accusation is not easily -sustained; and we think all that Plato does is to represent the ideas as -_extra Deum_ only as the idea or design of a picture or a temple in -the mind of the artist is distinguishable from the artist himself. But in -God all ideas must be eternal, and therefore really his essence, as is -maintained by St. Thomas. If this is really Plato's doctrine, it is dualism -inasmuch as it asserts the eternity of matter, and pantheism inasmuch as -the ideas, the reality of things, are identical with the divine mind, and -therefore with God himself. On this doctrine, what is that soul the -immortality of which Plato so strenuously maintains? Is it the divine idea, -or the copy of the idea on matter? - -When treating the question, How we know? Plato seems to understand by ideas -not the ideas in the divine mind, but their copies impressed on matter, as -the seal on wax. According to him, all knowing is by similitude, and as the -idea leaves its exact image or form on matter, so by studying that image or -copy we arrive at an exact knowledge of the idea or archetype in the divine -mind. This is plain enough; but who are _we_ who study and know? Are -we the archetypal idea, or are we its image or copy impressed on matter? -Here is the difficulty we find in understanding Plato's doctrine of ideas. -According to him all reality is in the idea, and what is not idea is -phenomenal, unsubstantial, variable, and evanescent. The impress or copy on -matter is not the idea itself, and is no more the thing itself than the -reflection I see in a mirror is myself. Plato speaks of the soul as -imprisoned in matter, and ascribes all evil to the intractableness of -matter. Hence he originates or justifies that false asceticism which treats -matter as impure or unclean, and makes the proper discipline of the soul -consist in despising and maltreating the body, and in seeking deliverance -from it, as if our bodies were not destined to rise again, and, reunited to -the soul, to live forever. The real source of Manichaeism is in the -Platonic philosophy. We confess that we are not able to make out from Plato -a complete, coherent, and self-consistent doctrine of ideas. St. Thomas -corrects Plato, and makes ideas the archetypes, exemplars, or models in the -divine mind, and identical with the essence of God, after which God creates -or may create existences. He holds the idea, as idea, to be _causa -exemplaris_, not _causa essentialis_, and thus escapes both -pantheism and dualism, and all tendency to either. - -{149} - -Aristotle, a much more systematic genius, and, in my judgment, a much -profounder philosopher than Plato, rejects Plato's doctrine of ideas, and -substitutes for them substantial forms, which in his philosophy mean real -existences distinct from God; and which are not merely phenomenal, like -Plato's copies on wax. True, he, as Plato, recognizes an eternal matter, -and makes all existences consist of matter and form. But the matter is -purely passive; and, as nothing, according to his philosophy, exists, save -in so far as active, it is really nothing, exists only _in potentia ad -formam_, and can only mean the ability of God to place existences after -the models eternal in his own mind. His philosophy is, at any rate, more -easily reconciled with Christian theology than is Plato's. - -Yet Aristotle and the schoolmen after him adopt Plato's doctrine that we -know by similitude, or by ideas in the sense of images, or representations, -interposed between the mind and the object, or thing existing _a parte -rei_. They suppose these images, or intelligible species, form a sort of -intermediary world, called the _mundus logicus_, distinguished from -the _mundus physicus_, or real world, which they are not, but which -they image or represent to the understanding. Hence the categories or -praedicaments are neither forms of the subject nor forms of the object, but -the forms or laws of logic or this intermediary world. Hence has arisen the -question whether our knowledge has any objective validity, that is, whether -there is any objective reality that responds to the idea. Perhaps it is in -this doctrine, misunderstood, that we are to seek the origin of scepticism, -which always originates in the speculations of philosophers, never in the -plain sense of the people, who never want, when they know, any proof that -they know. - -This Platonic and peripatetic doctrine, that ideas are not the reality, -but, as Locke says, that "with which the understanding is immediately -conversant," has been vigorously assailed by the Scottish school, which -denies intermediary ideas, and maintains that we perceive directly and -immediately things themselves. Still the old doctrine obtains to a very -considerable extent, and respectable schools teach that ideas, if not -precisely images, are nevertheless representative, and that the idea is the -first object of mental apprehension. Balmes never treats ideas as the -object existing _in re_, but as its representation to the mind. Hence -the importance attached to the question of certainty, or the objective -validity of our knowledge, around which Balmes says turn all the questions -of philosophy; that is, the great labor of philosophers is to prove that in -knowing we know something, or that to know is to know. This is really the -_pons asinorum_ of modern philosophy as it was of ancient philosophy: -How know I that knowing is knowing, or that in knowing I know? The question -as asked is unanswerable and absurd, for I have only to know with which to -prove that I know, and he who knows knows that he knows. I know that I know -says no more than I know. - -The quarrel has arisen from confounding ideas, universals, genera and -species, and abstractions or generalizations, and treating them all as if -pertaining to the same category. These three things are different, and -cannot be scientifically treated as if they were the same; yet nominalists, -realists, and conceptualists recognize no differences among them, nor do -the Platonists. These hold all the essential qualities, properties, or -attributes of things to be ideas, objective and real. Hippias visits -Athens, and proposes during his stay in the city to give the eager -Athenians a discourse, or, as they say nowadays, a lecture, on beautiful -things. Socrates is delighted to hear it, and assures Hippias that he will -be one of his audience; but as he is slow of understanding, and has a -friend who will be sure to question him very closely, he begs Hippias to -answer beforehand a few of the questions this friend is certain to ask. -Hippias consents. -{150} -You propose to discourse on beautiful things, but tell me, if you please, -what are beautiful things? Hippias mentions several things, and finally -answers, a handsome girl. But that is not what my friend wants to know. -Tell me, by what are beautiful things beautiful? Hippias does not quite -understand. Socrates explains. All just things, are they not just by -participation of justice? Agreed. And all wise things by participation of -wisdom? It cannot be denied. And all beautiful things by participation of -beauty? So it seems. Now tell me, dear Hippias, what is beauty, that which -is so not by participation but in itself, and by participation of which all -beautiful things are beautiful? Hippias, of course, is puzzled, and neither -he nor Socrates answers the question. - -But we get here a clue to Plato's doctrine, the doctrine of the methexis, -to use his own term. He would seem to teach that whatever particular thing -exists, it does so by the methexis, or participation of the idea. The idea -is that which makes the thing what it is, _causa essentialis_. Thus, a -man is man by participation of the man-idea, or the ideal man, humanity; a -horse is a horse by participation of the horse-idea, or ideal horse; a cow -is a cow by participation of the cow-idea, ideal cow, or _bovisty_; -and so of a sheep, a weazel, an eagle, a heron, a robin, a swallow, a wren, -an oak, a pine, a juniper. To know any particular thing is to know its idea -or ideal, and to know its idea or ideal is to have true science, for it is -science of that in the thing which is real, stable, invariable, and -permanent. This doctrine is very true when by ideas we understand genera -and species, but not, as we have already seen, and as both Rosceline and -Abelard prove, when we take as ideas the abstract qualities of things. Man -is man by participation of humanity; but is a thing white by participation -of whiteness, round by participation of roundness, hard by participation of -hardness, beautiful by participation of beauty, or just by participation of -justice, wise by participation of wisdom? What is whiteness, roundness, -hardness, beauty, justice, or wisdom in the abstract, or abstracted from -their respective concretes? Mere conceptions, as said Abelard, or, rather, -empty words, as said Rosceline. When Plato calls these ideas, and calls -them real, he confounds ideas with genera and species, and asserts what is -manifestly untenable. - -Genera and species are not abstractions; they are real, though subsisting -never apart from individuals. Their reality is evinced by the process -called generation, by which every kind generates its like. The race -continues itself, and does not die with the individual. Men die, humanity -survives. It is all very well to say with Plato individuals are mimetic, -and exist as individuals by participation of the idea, if we assume ideas -are genera and species, and created after the models or archetypes in the -divine mind; but it will not do to say so when we identify ideas with the -divine mind, that is, with God himself: We then make genera and species -ideas in God, and since ideas in God are God, we identify them with the -divine essence--a doctrine which the Holy See has recently condemned, and -which would deny all reality distinguishable from God, and make all -existences merely phenomenal, and reduce all the categories, as Cousin -does, to being and phenomenon, which is pure pantheism. The _ideae -exemplares_, or archetypes of genera and species, after which God -creates them, are in the divine mind, but the genera and species, the real -universals, are creatures, and as much so as individuals or particulars -themselves. They are creatures by the direct creation of God, without the -intervention of the plastic soul asserted by Plato, accepted by Cudworth, -and, in his posthumous essay on the Methexis and Mimesis, even by Gioberti. -{151} -God creates all living creatures in genera and species, as the Scripture -plainly hints when it says: "And God said, Let the earth bring forth the -green herb, and such as may seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit after -its _kind_, which may have seed in itself upon the earth." Not only in -the vegetable but also in the animal world, each living creature brings -forth its kind--a fact without which generation would be unintelligible, -and which our scientific men who dream of the formation of species by -natural selection, and are laboring hard to prove that man has been -developed from the tadpole or monkey, would do well to remember. - -Genera and species are real, and so far, if we call them ideas, ideas or -universals are real, as Plato and the old realists asserted. But when we -understand by ideas or universals the simple abstractions or -generalizations of the essential qualities or attributes of things, as -whiteness, redness, roundness, hardness, beauty, justice, goodness, they -are real only in their concretes or subject. Objects may be really white, -red, hard, heavy; things may be really beautiful; actions may be really -just, wise, and good; but what we call beauty, justice, wisdom, goodness, -can exist only as attributes or qualities of being, and are real only in -their concretes. They can be reflected by creatures, but have no reality as -abstractions. Abstractions, as St. Thomas says, have a foundation in -reality, because they are formed by the mind by way of abstraction from -objects presented by experience, and experience can present only that which -is real; but as abstractions they are nullities, as Rosceline rightly held. - -It is necessary, then, to distinguish between genera and species and -abstractions, and it would save much confusion to drop the name of ideas as -applied to them, and even as applied to the intermediary world supposed to -be inserted between the object and subject, as that world is commonly -represented. This intermediary world, we think, has been successfully -assailed by the Scottish school as ordinarily understood; but we do not -think that the scholastics meant by it what is commonly supposed. These -intermediary ideas, or intelligible species, seem to me in St. Thomas to -perform in intellectual apprehension the office performed by light in -external vision, and to be very defensible. They are not the understanding -itself, but they are, if we may be allowed the expression, the light of the -understanding. St. Thomas holds that we know by similitude. But God, he -says, is the similitude of all things, _Deus est similitudo omnium -rerum_. Now say, with him and all great theologians, that God, who is -light itself, is the light of the understanding, the light of reason, the -true light that lighteth every man coming into this world, and the whole -difficulty is solved, and the scholastics and the philosophy so long taught -in our Catholic schools and seminaries are freed at once from the censures -so freely bestowed on them by the Scottish school and others. We suspect -that we shall find seldom any reason to dissent from the scholastic -philosophy as represented by St. Thomas, when once we really understand it, -and adjust it to our own habits of thought and expression. - -Supposing this interpretation to be admissible, the Scottish school, after -all, must modify its doctrine that we know things directly and immediately; -for as in external things light is necessary as the medium of vision, why -should not an intelligible light be necessary as the medium of the -intellectual apprehension of intelligibles? Now, as this light has in it -the similitude of the things apprehensible by it, and is for that same -reason light to our understanding, it may, as Plato held, very properly be -expressed by the word _idea_, which means likeness, image, or -representation. The error of Plato would not then be in holding that we -know only _per ideam_ or _per similitudinem_, but in confounding -creator and creature, and recognizing nothing except the idea either to -know or to be known. On this interpretation, the light may be identical -with the object, or it may not be. Being is its own light, and is -intelligible _per se_; objects distinguishable from being are not, and -are intelligible only in the light of being, or a light distinguishable -from themselves. -{152} -As being in its full sense is God, we may say with Malebranche that we see -all things in God, but must add, _and by the light of God_, or _in -Deo et per Deum_. - -Assuming ideas as the light by which we see to be the real doctrine of the -scholastics, we can readily understand the relation of ideas to the -peripatetic categories or praedicaments, or forms under which all objects -are and must be apprehended, and thus connect the old quarrel of the -philosophers with their present quarrel. The categories, according to the -Platonists, are ideas; according to the peripatetics, they are the forms of -the _mundus logicus_, which, as we have seen, they distinguish from -the _mundus physicus_. The Scottish school having demolished this -_mundus logicus_, by exploding the doctrine of intermediary ideas -which compose it, if we take that world as formal, and fail to identify it -with the divine light, the question comes up, Are the categories or -self-evident truths which precede all experience, and without which no fact -of experience is possible, really objective, or only subjective? The -question is, if we duly consider it, Is the light by which we see or know -on the side of the subject or on that of the object? Or, in other words, -are things intelligible because we know them, or do we know them because -they are intelligible? Thus stated, the question seems to be no question at -all; but it is made a very serious question, and on the answer to it -depends the validity or invalidity of St. Anselm's argument. - -We have already expressed the opinion that the scholastics as represented -by St. Thomas really mean by their phantasms and intelligible species, or -intermediary ideas by which we attain to the knowledge of sensibles and -intelligibles, simply the mediating light furnished by God himself, who is -himself light and the Father of lights. In this case the light is -objective, and by illumining the object renders it intelligible, and at the -same time the subject intelligent. But Reid, who denied intermediary ideas, -seemed to suppose that the light emanates from the subject, and that it is -our powers that render the object intelligible. Hence he calls the -categories first principles of science, constituent principles of belief, -or common sense, and sometimes constituent principles of human nature. He -seems to have supposed that all the light and activity is on the side of -the subject, forgetting that the light shineth in darkness, and the -darkness comprehendeth it not, or that the light shines, and the darkness -does not compress it, or hinder it from shining, without our perceiving it -or the objects it illumines. - -Kant, a German, but, on one side, of Scottish descent, adopts the -principles of Reid, but sets them forth with greater precision and more -scientific depth. Denying with Reid the mediating ideas, he makes the -categories, which, according to Aristotle, are forms of the _mundus -logicus_, or intermediary world, forms of the subject or the subjective -laws of thought. He does not say with Rosceline that they are mere words, -with Abelard that they are mere conceptions, nor with St. Thomas that they -are, taken as universals, conceptions, _cum fundamento in re_, but -forms of the reason, understanding, and sensibility, without any objective -validity. They are not derivable from experience, because without them no -experience is possible. Without what he calls synthetic judgments _à -priori_, such as, Every phenomenon that begins to exist must have a -cause, which includes the judgment of cause, of universal cause, and of -necessary cause, we can form no synthetic judgment _à posteriori_. -Hence he concludes that the categories, what some philosophers call first -principles, necessary truths, necessary ideas, without which we do not and -cannot think, are inherent forms of the subject, and are constitutive of -reason and understanding. He thus placed the intelligibleness of things in -the elemental constitution of the subject, whence it follows that the -subject may be its own object, or think without thinking anything distinct -from himself. -{153} -We think God, man, and nature, not because they are, and think them as we -do not because they are really such as we think them, but because such is -our mental constitution, and we are compelled by it to think them as we do. -This the reader must see is hardly disguised scepticism, and Kant never -pretended to the contrary. The only escape from scepticism, he himself -contends, is to fall back from the pure or speculative reason on the -practical reason, or the moral necessities of our nature, and yield to the -moral imperative, which commands us to believe in God, nature, and duty. -Kant has been followed by Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, who differ more or -less from one another, but all follow the fundamental principle he -asserted, and end in the doctrine of absolute identity of subject and -object. "_Cogito, ergo sum_," said Descartes: "I think, therefore I -am." "To think," used to say our old friend Bronson Alcott, "is to -_thing_; to thing is to give or produce reality. My thought is -creative: I think, therefore I am; I think God, therefore he is; nature, -and therefore nature exists. I by thinking make them, that is, _thing_ -them, render them real." No bad statement, as far as it goes, of the -development Kant's doctrine received from his disciple Fichte. The only -defect is that his later disciples, instead of making thought creative, -have made it identical with the object. St. Anselm says: "I think most -perfect being, therefore most perfect being is;" and so does Descartes, -only Descartes substitutes God for most perfect being; but St. Anselm never -said it in the sense that most perfect being is because I by my thought -make it. Only a modern transcendentalist gone to seed could say that. The -trouble with this whole scheme is that it puts me in the place of God, and -makes me myself God, which I am quite sure I am not. It would be much more -philosophical to say: I exist, therefore I think; I think being because it -is, not that it is because I think it. Things do not exist because I think -them, but I think them because they exist; they are not intelligible -because I think them, but I think them because they are intelligible. Yet -the germ of our friend Alcott's philosophy was in Kant's doctrine, which -places the _forma_ of the thought in the subject instead of the -object. - -Whether the categories, as given by Aristotle, are inexact, as Kant -alleges, or whether, as given by Kant himself, they are reducible in number -to two, as M. Cousin pretends, or to one, as Rosmini maintains, enters not -into the present enquiry, which relates not to their number, but their -objective reality. Kant in regard to philosophy has done simply what Reid -did, only he has done it better or more scientifically. He has fully -demonstrated that in every fact of experience there enters a non-empirical -element, and, if he holds with Leibnitz that that element is the human -understanding itself, he has still demonstrated that it is not an -abstraction or generalization of the concrete qualities of the objects -presented by experience. - -Take the ideas or categories of the necessary, the perfect, the universal, -the infinite, the perfect, the immutable, the eternal. These ideas, it is -willingly conceded, never exist in the human mind, or are never thought, -without their opposites, the contingent, the finite, the imperfect, the -particular, the variable, the temporal; but they do not, even in our -thought, depend on them, and are not derived or derivable from them by -abstraction or generalization. Take the synthetic judgment instanced by -Kant, Everything that begins to exist must have a cause. The idea of cause -itself, Hume has shown, is not derivable from any fact of experience, and -Reid and Kant say the same. The notion we have of power which founds the -relation of cause and effect, or that what we call the cause actually -produces or places the effect, these philosophers tell us, is not an object -of experience, and is not obtainable from any empirical facts. -{154} -Experience gives only the relation of what we call cause and effect in -time, that is, the relation of antecedence and consequence. Main de Biran -and Victor Cousin, it is true, deny this, and maintain that the idea of -cause is derived from the acts of our own will, which we are conscious of -in ourselves, and which not merely precede their effects, but actually -produce them. I will to raise my arm, and even if my arm be paralytic or -held down by a [force] stronger than I, so that I cannot raise it, I still -by willing produce an effect, the volition to raise it, which is none the -less real because, owing to external circumstances not under my control, it -does not pass beyond my own interior. - -But even granting this, how from this particular act of causation conclude -universal cause, or even from universal cause necessary cause? I by willing -produce the volition to raise my arm, therefore everything that begins to -exist must have a cause. The argument from the particular to the universal, -_non volet_, say the logicians, and still less the argument from the -contingent to the necessary. - -Take the idea of the perfect. That we have the idea or category in the mind -is indisputable, and it evidently is not derivable by abstraction or -generalization from the facts of experience. We have experience only of -imperfect things, and no generalizing of imperfection can give perfection. -Indeed, without the category of the perfect, the imperfect cannot even be -thought. We think a thing imperfect, that is, judge it to be imperfect--and -every thought is a judgment, and contains an affirmation--because it falls -short of the ideal standard with which the mind compares it. The universal -is not derivable from the particular, for the particular is not conceivable -without the universal. We may say the same of the immutable, the eternal, -the infinite, the one, or unity. - -By abstraction or generalization we simply consider in the concrete a -particular property, quality, or attribute by itself, and take it _in -universo_, without regard to anything else in the concrete thing. It -must then be a real property, quality, or attribute of the concrete thing, -or the abstraction will have no foundation in reality. But the universal is -no property, quality, or attribute of particulars, the immutable of -mutables, the eternal of things temporary, the necessary of contingents, -the infinite of finites, or unity of multiples, otherwise particulars would -be universals, mutables immutables, temporals eternals, contingents -necessary, finites infinite, and multiples one--a manifest contradiction in -terms. The generalization or abstraction of particulars is particularity, -of mutables is mutability, of temporals temporality, of contingents -contingency, of finites finiteness, of multiples plurality or multiplicity. -The overlooking of this obvious fact, and regarding the universal, -immutable, eternal, etc., as abstractions or generalizations of -particulars, mutables, temporals, and so on, has given birth to the -pantheistic philosophy, than which nothing can be more sophistical. - -The ideas or categories of the universal, the immutable, and the eternal, -the necessary, the infinite, the one or unity, are so far from being -abstractions from particular concretes that in point of fact we cannot even -think things as particular, changeable, temporal, contingent, finite, or -multiple without them. Hence, they are called necessary ideas, because -without them no synthetic judgment _à posteriori_ or fact of -experience is possible. They are not abstractions formed by the human mind -by contemplating concrete things, because the human mind cannot operate or -even exist without them, and without them human intelligence, even if -supposable, could not differ from the intelligence of the brute, which, -though many eminent men in modern science are endeavoring to prove it, -cannot be accepted, because in proving we should disprove it. - -{155} - -The question now for philosophy to answer, as we have already intimated, -is, Are these ideas or categories, which precede and enter into every fact -of experience, forms of the subject or human understanding, as Kant -alleges, or are they objective and real, and, though necessary to the -existence and operation of the human mind, are yet really distinct from it, -and independent of it, as much so as if no human mind had been created? -This is the problem. - -St. Thomas evidently holds them to be objective, for he holds them to be -necessary and self-evident principles, principles _per se nota_, as -may be seen in his answer to the question, _Utrum Deum esse sit per se -notum?_ and we need strong reasons to induce us to dissent from any -philosophical conclusion of the angelic doctor. Moreover, Kant by no means -proves his own conclusion, that they are forms of the subject. All he -proves is that there is and can be no fact of human knowledge without them, -which may be true without their being subjective. He proves, if you will, -that they are constituent principles of the human understanding, in the -sense that the human understanding cannot exist and operate without their -initiative and concurrence; but this no more proves that they are forms of -the subject than the fact that the creature can neither exist nor act -without the creative and concurrent act of the creator proves that the -creator is an inherent law or form of the creature. To our mind, Kant -confirms a conclusion contrary to his own. His masterly _Kritik der -reinen Vernunft_ establishes simply this fact, that man's own subjective -reason alone does not suffice for science, and that man, in science as in -existence, is dependent on that which is not himself; or, in a word, that -man depends on the intelligibleness of the object, or that which renders it -intelligible, to be himself intelligent, or knowing. Man is, no doubt, -created with the power or faculty of intelligence, but that power or -faculty is not the power or faculty to know without an intelligible object, -or to know what is not knowable independently of it. Hence, from Kant's -facts, we conclude that the ideas or categories, without which no object is -intelligible and no fact of intelligence possible, are not subjective, but -objective, real, and independent of the subject. - -The matter is simple enough if we look at it freed from the obscurity with -which philosophers have surrounded it. Thought is a complex fact, the joint -product of subject and object. God is his own object, because he is self -existent and self-sufficing: is in himself, as say the theologians, -_actus purissimus_, most pure act, which permits us up to a certain -point to understand the eternal generation of the Son and the procession of -the Holy Ghost. God, being self-existent and self-sufficing, needs and can -receive nothing from without his own most perfect being. But man is a -dependent being, a creature, and does not and cannot suffice in himself for -either his own existence or his own intelligence. He cannot think by -himself alone or without the concurrence of the object, which is not -himself. If the concurrence of the object be essential to the production of -my thought, then that concurrence must be active, for a passive concurrence -is the same as no concurrence at all. Then the object must be active, -therefore real, for what is not real cannot act or be active. Then the -object in my thought is not and cannot be myself, but stands over against -me. Now, I know that I think these ideas, and that they are the object in -my thought without which I cannot think at all. Therefore, they are -objective and real, and neither myself nor my creations, as are -abstractions. - -This conclusion is questioned only by those persons who have not duly -considered the fact that there can be no thought without both subject and -object, and that man can never be his own object. To assume that he can -act, think, or know with himself alone, without the concurrence of that -which is not himself and is independent of him, is to deny his dependence -and to assume him to be God--a conclusion which some think follows from the -famous "_Cogito, ergo sum_" of Descartes, and which is accepted and -defended by the whole German pantheistic school of the present day. -{156} -Indeed, as atheism was in the last century, so pantheism is in the present -century the real enemy philosophy has to combat. In concluding the reality -of the object from the fact that I think it, I am far from pretending that -thought cannot err; but the error is not in regard to what I really think, -but in regard to that which I do not think, but infer from my thought. I -think only what is intelligible, and what is intelligible is real, and -therefore true, for falsehood, being unreal, is unintelligible, and -therefore cannot be thought. But in converting my thought into a -proposition, I may include in the proposition not only what I thought, but -what I did not think. Hence the part of error, which is always the part not -of knowledge, but of ignorance. It is so we understand St. Augustine and -St. Thomas.[Footnote 37] - - [Footnote 37: Vide St. Augustine, in lib lxxxiii. Qq., quaest. xxii., - and St. Thomas, Summa p.1 quaest. xvii, a. 3 ln. c. The words of St. - Augustine are, "Omnis qui fallitur, id quo fallitur, non intelligit." - Hence the Intellect is always true.] - -These considerations authorize, or we are much mistaken, the conclusion -that the ideas or categories, which the schoolmen hold to be forms of the -intermediary or logical world, and Kant to be forms of the subject, are -objective and real, and either the intelligible object itself or the -objective light by which it is rendered intelligible or knowable. Plato, -Aristotle, and the scholastics, if we have not misapprehended them, regard -them, in explaining the fact of knowledge, rather as the light which -illumines the object than the object itself. Yet, when the object is -intelligible in itself, or by its own light, St. Thomas clearly identifies -it with the object, and distinguishes it from the object only when the -object is not intelligible _per se_. Thus, he maintains with St. -Augustine that God knows things _per ideam_; but to the objection that -God knows them by his essence, he answers that God in his own essence is -the similitude, that is, the idea, of all things: _Unde idea in Deo nihil -est aliud quam essentia Dei_. Therefore, idea in God is nothing else -than the essence of God. [Footnote 38] - - [Footnote 38: Summa, p.1, quaest, xv. a. 1 ad 3. The question is _de - Ideis_, and we think the reader, by consulting what St. Thomas says - in the body of the first article, will agree that, though we have used - a different phraseology, we have simply given his sense.] - -The doctrine of St. Thomas is that all knowledge is by ideas, in the sense -of image, likeness, or similitude. In God the idea, image, likeness, or -similitude, the _species_, is not distinguishable from the divine -essence, for he is in his essence _similitudo omnium rerum_. Now, -though we are created after the _idea exemplaris_, or model eternal in -his essence, and therefore in our degree copy or imitate him, we have not -in us the types or models of all things, are not in ourselves _similitudo -omnium rerum_, and therefore are not intelligent in ourselves alone. The -ideas by which things are intelligible and we intelligent must be distinct -from us, and exist independent of us. As no creature any more than we has -in itself the likeness of all things, or is in itself its own _idea -exemplaris_, no creature can be in itself alone intelligible. Hence what -the schoolmen call idea or intelligible species must be equally distinct -from and independent of the object when the object is _aliquid -creatum_, or creature. Hence, while both the created subject and the -created object depend on the idea, the one to be intelligible, the other to -be intelligent, the idea, intelligible species, the light--as we prefer to -say--is independent of them both. The idea _in re_ is not something -intermediary between subject and object, as is sometimes supposed, but the -light that intervenes between them, as the necessary condition of knowledge -in creatures. This seems to us to be the real doctrine of the scholastics, -as represented by St. Thomas, and is, in our judgment, indisputable. - -{157} - -We call the idea, regarded as intervening in the fact of knowledge, the -light, and thus avoid the question whether all knowledge is by similitude -or not. It may be that the idea is light because it contains the image or -likeness of the object, but that seems to us a question more curious than -practically important. We cannot see that the explication of the mystery of -knowing is carried any further by calling the idea image or similitude than -by simply calling it the intelligible light. The Platonists and -peripatetics seem to us to come no nearer the secret of knowledge by so -calling it than do our philosophers to the secret of external vision, when -they tell us that we do not see the visible object itself, but its image -painted by the external light on the retina of the eye. How do I see the -image or picture, and connect it with the external object? When I have -called the object or the idea light, I seem to myself to have said all that -can be said on the point, and to retain substantially the scholastic -doctrine of ideas, or intelligible species, which asserts, I add, by the -way, what is perhaps very true, but which after all brings us no nearer to -the secret of knowledge, or the explanation of how in the last analysis we -do or can know at all. - -How we do or can know seems to us an inexplicable mystery, as is our -existence itself. That we do know is certain. Every man knows, and in -knowing knows that be knows; but how he knows no man knows. To deny is as -much an act of reason as is to affirm, and no one can deny without knowing -that he denies. Men may doubt many things, but universal doubt is a simple -impossibility, for whoever doubts knows that be doubts, and never doubts -that he doubts or that doubt is doubting. In all things and in all science -we arrive at last, if we think long and deep enough, at a mystery which it -is in no human power to deny or to explain, and which is explicable only in -God by his divine science. Hence it is that philosophy never fully suffices -for itself, and always needs to be supplemented by revelation, as nature to -attain its end must not only be redeemed from the fall, but supplemented by -grace. Man never suffices for himself, since his very being is not in -himself; and how, then, shall philosophy, which is his creation, suffice -for itself? Let philosophy go as far as it can, but let the philosopher -never for a moment imagine that human reason will ever be able to explain -itself. The secret as of all things is in God and with him. Would man be -God, the creature the Creator? - -If we have seized the sense of the scholastic philosophy as represented by -St. Thomas, and are right in understanding by the intelligible species of -the schoolmen the light by which the object is intelligible, therefore the -object itself when the object is intelligible _per se_, and the -intelligible light when it is not, the ideal is objective and real, and -both the old quarrel and the new are voided. Abstractions are null; genera -and species are real, but creatures; ideas, as the intelligible light by -which we know, are not forms of the subject, but objective and real, and in -fact the light of the divine being, which, intelligible by itself, is the -intelligibility of all created existences. St. Anselm's argument is, then, -rigidly sound and conclusive: I think most perfect being _in re_; and -therefore such being is, or I could not think it, since what is not cannot -be thought. If the most perfect being, a greater than which and the -contrary of which cannot be thought, be only in my thought, then I am -myself greater than the most perfect being, and my thought becomes the -criterion of perfection, and I am greater than God, and can judge him. - -This follows from the fact that the ideal is real. The ideas of the -universal, the infinite, the perfect, the necessary, the immutable, the -eternal cannot be either the intelligible object or the intelligible light, -unless they are being. As abstractions, or as abstracted from being, they -are simple nullities. -{158} -To think them is to think real, universal, infinite, perfect, necessary, -immutable, and eternal being, the _ens perfectissimum_ of St. Anselm, -the _ens necessarium et reale_ of the theologians, a greater than -which or the contrary of which cannot be thought. That this _ens_, -intuitively affirmed to every intellect, is God, is amply shown in the -papers on "The Problems of the Age," and also that _ens_ or being -creates existences, and hence there is no occasion for us to show it over -again. - -But it will not do to say, as many do, that we have intuition of God. The -idea is intuitive; and we know by intuition that which is God, and that he -is would be indemonstrable if we did not; but we do not know by intuition -that what is affirmed or presented in intuition is God. When Descartes -says, "I think God, therefore God is," he misapprehends St. Anselm, and -assumes what is not tenable. St. Anselm does not say he thinks God, and -therefore God is; he says, "I think most perfect being, a greater than -which cannot be thought," and therefore most perfect being is. The -intuition is not God, but most perfect being. So the ideal formula, _ens -creat existentias_ so ably defended in the papers on "The Problems of -the Age," would be indefensible, if _Deus _were substituted for -_ens_, and it read, God creates existences. That is true, and -_ens_, no doubt, is _Deus_; but we know not that by intuition, -and it would be wrong to understand St. Augustine, who seems to teach that -we know that God is by intuition, in any other sense than that we have -intuition of that which can be demonstrated to be God. We know by intuition -that which is God, but not that it is God. - -St. Thomas seems to us to set this matter right in his answer to the -question, _Utrum Deum esse sit per notum?_--He holds that _ens_ -is _per se notum_, or self-evident, and that first principles in -knowing, as well as in being, evidence themselves, but denies that _Deum -esse sit per se notum_, because the meaning of the word _Deus_ or -God is not self-evident and known by all. His own words are: "_Dico ergo -haec propositio, DEUS EST, quantum in se est, per se nota est, quia -praedicatum est idem cum subjecto Deus enim est suum esse, ut infra -patebit. Sed qua nos non scimus de Deo QUID EST, non est per se nota est, -sed indiget demonstrari._" [Footnote 39] - - [Footnote 39: Summa, pars. 1, quaest. 1 a. ln c.] - -St. Thomas adds, indeed, "Sed indiget demonstrari, per ea quae sunt magis -nota quoad nos, et minus secundam naturam, scilicet per effectus;" but this -is easily explained. The saint argues that it is not self-evident that God -is, because it is not self-evident what he is; for, according to the -scholastic philosophy, to be able to affirm that a thing is, it is -necessary to know its quidity [Footnote 40], since without knowing what the -thing is we cannot know that it is. What God is can be demonstrated only by -his works, and that it can be so demonstrated St. Paul assures us, Rom. -1:20: "Invisibilia ipsius, a creatura mundi, per ea quae facta sunt, -intellecta, conspiciuntur: sempiterna quoqne virtus et divinitas;" or as we -venture to English it: "The invisible things of God, even his eternal power -and divinity, are clearly seen from the foundation of the world, being -understood (or known) by the things that are made." St. Paul appeals to the -things that are made not to prove that God is, but to show what he is, or -rather, if we may so express ourself, to prove that he is God, and leaves -us, as does St. Thomas, to prove, with St. Augustine, St. Anselm, Fénelon, -and others, that he is, by the argument derived from intuitive ideas, or -first principles, commonly called the _argumentum a priori_, though -that, strictly speaking, it is not, for there is nothing more ultimate or -universal in science than is God himself, or, rather, that which is God. - - [Transcribers footnote 40: quidity--Real nature of a thing; the - essence.] - -{159} - -The ideal formula is true, for it is contained in the first verse of -Genesis, "In the beginning God created heaven and earth," and in the first -article of the creed, "I believe in one God, maker of heaven and earth, and -all things visible and invisible;" and what it formulates is, as we have -shown, and as is shown more at length in "The Problems of the Age," -intuitive, and the human mind could not exists and operate if it were not -so; but the formula itself, or, rather, the formulation as an intellectual -judgment, is not so. The judgment was beyond the reach of all Gentile -philosophy, which nowhere asserts or recognizes the fact of creation; it is -beyond the reach of the mass even of the Christian people, who hold that -God creates the world as an article of faith rather than as a scientific -truth; it is denied by nearly all the systems of philosophy constructed by -non-Catholics even in our own day, and it may well be doubted if science, -unaided by revelation, could ever have attained to it. - -This relieves the formula of the principal objections urged against it. The -ideas formulated are the first principles in science with which all -philosophy must commence, but the formulation, instead of being at the -beginning, does not always appear even at its conclusion. The explanations -we have offered show that there is no discrepancy between its assertion and -the philosophy of St. Thomas. Indeed, the formula in substance is the -common doctrine of all great Catholic theologians in all ages of the -church, and may be seen to be so if we will only take the pains to -understand them and ourselves. The objection, that the doctrine that we -have intuition of most perfect being assumes that we have the intuitive -vision of God even in this life, cannot stand, because that vision is -vision of God as he is in himself, and this asserts only intuition of him -as idea, which we even know not by intuition is God. The result of our -discussion is to show that the sounder and better philosophy of our day is -in reality nothing but the philosophy of St. Anselm and St. Thomas, and -which in substance has been always, and still is, taught with more or less -clearness and depth in all our Catholic schools. - ------- - - Original - - The Hidden Crucifixion. - - "And they crucified him there." - - - Say not 'twas on dread Calvary's mountain top, - And in the broad and glaring light - Of noonday sun; - With hooting rabble crowded 'round - To show - The Holy One despite. - - No, no! But in this guilty breast, alone-- - God of my love, how could I dare!-- - The deed was done. - Ye angels, look upon this heart; - Ye know - I crucified him there! - ------- - -{160} - - Impressions Of Spain. - - By Lady Herbert. - - - St. Sebastian and Burgos. - -What is it that we seek for, we Englishmen and Englishwomen, who year by -year, about the month of November, are seen crowding the Folkestone and -Dover steamboats, with that unmistakable "going abroad" look of -travelling--bags and wide-awakes and bundles of wraps and alpaca gowns? I -think it may be comprised in one word--_sunshine_. This dear old land -of ours, with all its luxuries and all its comforts and all its -associations of home and people, still lacks one thing--and that is -climate. For climate means health to one half of us; and health means power -of enjoyment; for, without it, the most perfect of homes (and nowhere is -that word understood so well as in England) is spoiled and saddened. So, in -pursuit of this great boon, a widow lady and her children, with a doctor -and two other friends, started off in the winter of 186-, in spite of -ominous warnings of revolutions, and grim stories of brigands, for that -comparatively unvisited country called Spain. As far as St. Sebastian the -journey was absolutely without interest or adventure of any kind. The -express train dashed them past houses and villages, and picturesque old -towns with fine church towers, from Paris to Bordeaux, and from Bordeaux to -Bayonne, and so on past the awful frontier, the scene of so many -passages-at-arms between officials and ladies' maids, till they found -themselves crossing the picturesque bridge which leads to the little town -of St. Sebastian, with its beach of fine sand, washed by the long billowy -waves of the Atlantic on the one hand, and its riant, well-cultivated -little Basque farms on the other. As to the town itself, time and the -prefect may eventually make it a second Biarritz, as in every direction -lodging-houses are springing up, till it will become what one of Dickens's -heroes would call "the most sea-bathingest place" that ever was! But at -present it is a mass of rough stone and lime and scaffolding; and the one -straight street leading from the hotel to the church of St. Maria, with the -castle above, are almost all that remains of the old town which stood so -many sieges, and was looked upon as the key of Northern Spain. The hotel -appeared but tolerably comfortable to our travellers, fresh from the -luxuries of Paris. When they returned, four or five months later, they -thought it a perfect paradise of comfort and cleanliness. After wandering -through the narrow streets, and walking into one or two uninteresting -churches, it was resolved to climb up to the citadel which commands the -town, and to which the ascent is by the fair zigzag road, like that which -leads to Dover Castle. A small garrison remains in the keep, which is also -a military prison. The officers receiving our party very courteously, -inviting them to walk on the battlements, and climb up to the flag-staff, -and offering them the use of their large telescope for the view, which is -certainly magnificent, especially toward the sea. There is a tiny chapel in -the fortress, in which the Blessed Sacrament is reserved. It was pleasant -to see the sentinel presenting arms to it each time his round brought him -past the ever open door. On the hill side, a few monumental slabs, let in -here and there into the rock, and one or two square tombs, mark the graves -of the Englishmen killed during the siege, and also in the Don Carlos -revolution. -{161} -Of the siege itself, and of the historical interest attached to St. -Sebastian, we will say nothing: are they not written in the book of the -chronicles of Napier and Napoleon? - -The following morning, after a fine and crowded service at the church of -St. Maria, where they first saw the beautiful Spanish custom of the women -being all veiled, and in black, two of the party started at seven in the -morning, in a light carriage, for Loyola. The road throughout is beautiful, -reminding one of the Tyrol, with picturesque villages, old Roman bridges, -quaint manor-houses, with coats of arms emblazoned over their porticoes; -rapid, clear trout-streams and fine glimpses of snowy mountains on the -left, and of the bright blue sea on the right. The flowers, too, were -lovely. There was a dwarf blue bugloss of an intensity of color which is -only equalled by the large forget-me-not on the mountainsides of Lebanon. -The peasants are all small proprietors. They were cultivating their fields -in the most primitive way, father, mother, and children working the ground -with a two-pronged fork, called by them a "laya;" but the result was -certainly satisfactory. They speak a language as utterly hopeless for a -foreigner to understand as Welsh or Gaelic. The saying among the -Andalusians is that the devil, who is no fool, spent seven years in Bilboa -studying the Basque dialect, and learned three words only; and of their -pronunciation they add that the Basque write "Solomon," and pronounce it -"Nebuchadnezzar!" Be this as it may, they are a contented, happy, -prosperous, sober race, rarely leaving their own country, to which they are -passionately attached, and deserving, by their independence and -self-reliance, their name of "Bayascogara"--"Somos bastantes." - -Passing through the baths Certosa, the mineral springs of which are much -frequented by the Spaniards in summer, our travellers came, after a four -hours' drive, to Azpeitia, a walled town, with a fine church containing the -"pila," or font, in which St. Ignatius was baptized. Here the good-natured -curé, Padre G--, met them, and insisted on escorting them to the great -college of Loyola, which is about a mile from the town. It has a fine -Italian façade, and is built in a fertile valley round the house of St. -Ignatius, the college for missionary priests being on one side, and a -florid, domed, circular marble church on the other. The whole is thoroughly -Roman in its aspect, but not so beautiful as the Gothic buildings of the -south. They first went into the church, which is very rich in jaspers, -marbles, and mosaics, the marbles being brought from the neighboring -mountains. The cloisters at the back are still unfurnished; but the -entrance to the monastery is of fine and good proportions, and the -corridors and staircase are very handsome. Between the church and the -convent is a kind of covered cloister, leading to the "Santuario," the -actual house in which the saint was born and lived. The outside is in -raised brickwork, of curious old geometrical patterns; and across the door -is the identical wooden bar which in old times served as protection to the -château. Entering the low door, you see on your right a staircase; and on -your left a long low room on the ground floor, in which is a picture of the -Blessed Virgin. Here the saint was born: his mother, having a particular -devotion to the Virgin, insisted on being brought down here to be confined. -Going up the stairs, to a kind of corridor used as a confessional, you come -first to the chapel of St. Francis Borgia, where he said his first mass. -Next to it is one dedicated to Marianne di Jesu, the "Lily of Quito," with -a beautiful picture of the South American saint over the high altar. To the -left, again, is another chapel, and here St. François Xavier, the Apostle -of the Indies, said his mass before starting on his glorious evangelical -mission. -{162} -Ascending a few steps higher, their guide led them into a long low room, -richly decorated and gilt, and full of pictures of the different events of -the life of the saint. A gilt screen divided the ante-chapel from the -altar, raised on the very spot where he lay so long with his wounded leg, -and where he was inspired by the Blessed Virgin to renounce the world, and -devote himself, body and soul, to the work of God. There is a -representation of him in white marble under the altar as he lay; and -opposite, a portrait, in his soldier's dress, said to be taken from life, -and another of him afterward, when he had become a priest. It is a -beautiful face, with strong purpose and high resolve in every line of the -features. - -In the sacristy is the "baldachino," or tester of his bed, in red silk. It -was in this room that he first fell sick and took to reading the Lives of -the Saints to amuse himself, there being no other book within reach. Such -are the "common ways," which we blindly call "accidents," in which God -leads those whom he chooses, like Saul, for his special service. The -convent contains thirty fathers and twenty-five lay brothers. There are -about 120 students, a fine library, refectory, etc. They have a large -day-school of poor children, whom they instruct in Basque and Spanish; and -distribute daily a certain number of dinners, soup, and bread, to the sick -poor of the neighboring villages, about twenty of whom were waiting at the -buttery door for their daily supply. - -The English strangers, taking leave of the kind and courteous fathers, had -luncheon at a little "posada" close by, where the hostess insisted on their -drinking some of the cider of the country, which the doctor, himself a -Devonshire man, was obliged to confess excelled that of his own country. -The good curé entertained them meanwhile with stories of his people, who -appear to be very like the Highlanders, both in their merits and their -faults. Some of their customs seemed to be derived from pagan times, such -as that of offering bread and wine on the tombs of those they love on the -anniversary of their death; a custom in vogue in the early days of -Christianity, and mentioned by St. Augustine in his Confessions as being -first put a stop to by St. Ambrose, at Milan, on account of the abuses -which had crept into the practice. The drive back was, if possible, even -more beautiful than that of the morning, and they reached St. Sebastian at -eight o'clock, delighted with their expedition. - -The next day they started for Burgos, by rail, only stopping for a few -minutes on their way to the station to see the "Albergo dei Poveri," a -hospital and home for incurables, nursed by the Spanish sisters of charity. -They are affiliated to the sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, and follow their -rule, but do not wear the "white cornette" of the French sisters. - -The railroad in this part of Spain has been carried through most -magnificent scenery, which appeared to our travellers like a mixture of -Poussin and Salvator Rosa. Fine purple mountains, still sprinkled with -snow, with rugged and jagged peaks standing out against the clear blue sky, -and with waterfalls and beautiful streams rushing down their sides; an -underwood of chestnut and beach trees; deep valleys, with little brown -villages and bright white convents perched on rising knolls, and -picturesque bridges spanning the little streams as they dashed through the -gorges; and then long tracks of bright rose-colored heather, out of which -rose big boulder-stones or the wayside cross; the whole forming, as it -were, a succession of beautiful pictures such as would delight the heart of -a painter, both as to composition and coloring. No one can say much for the -pace at which the Spanish railways travel; yet are they all too quick in -scenery such as this, when one longs to stop and sketch -at every turn. -{163} -Suddenly, however, the train came to a stand-still: an enormous fragment of -rock had fallen across the line in the night, burying a luggage-train, but -fortunately without injury to its drivers; and our party had no alternative -but to get out, with their manifold bags and packages, and walk across the -_débris_ to another train, which, fortunately, was waiting for them on -the opposite side of the chasm. A little experience of Spanish travelling -taught them to expect such incidents half a dozen times in the course of -the day's journey; but at first it seemed startling and strange. They -reached Burgos at six, and found themselves in a small but very decent -"fonda," where the daughter of the landlord spoke a little French, to their -great relief. They had had visions of Italian serving nearly as well as -Spanish for making themselves understood by the people; but this idea was -rudely dispelled the very first day of their arrival in Spain. Great as the -similarity may be in reading, the accent of the Spaniard makes him utterly -incomprehensible to the bewildered Italian scholar; and the very likeness -of some words increases the difficulty when he finds that, according to the -pronunciation, a totally different meaning is attached to them. For -instance, one of the English ladies, thinking to please the mistress of the -house, made a little speech to her about the beauty and cleanliness of her -kitchen, using the right word (_cocina_), but pronouncing it with the -Italian accent. She saw directly she had committed a blunder, though -Spanish civility suppressed the laugh at her expense. She found afterward -that the word she had used, with the "ci" _soft_, meant a female pig. -And this was only a specimen of mistakes hourly committed by all who -adventured themselves in this unknown tongue. - -A letter of introduction procured for our travellers an instant admission -to the cardinal archbishop, who received them most kindly, and volunteered -to be their escort over the cathedral. He had been educated at Ushaw, and -spoke English fluently and well. He had a very pretty little chapel in his -palace, with a picture in it of Sta. Maria della Pace at Rome, from whence -he derives his cardinal's title. - -The cathedral at Burgos, with the exception of Toledo, is the most -beautiful Gothic building in Spain. It was begun by Bishop Maurice, an -Englishman, and a great friend of St. Ferdinand's, in the year 1220. The -spires, with their lacework carving; the doorways, so rich in sculpture; -the rose-windows, with their exquisite tracery; the beautiful -lantern-shaped clerestory; the curious double staircase of Diego de Siloe; -the wonderful "retablos" behind the altars, of the finest wood-carving; the -magnificent marble and alabaster monuments in the side chapels, vying with -one another in beauty and richness of detail; the wonderful wood-carving of -the stalls in the choir; the bas reliefs carved in every portion of the -stone; in fact, every detail of this glorious building is equally perfect; -and even in Southern Spain, that paradise for lovers of cathedrals, can -scarcely be surpassed. The finest of the monuments are those of the Velasco -family, the hereditary high-constable of Castile. They are of Carrara -marble, resting upon blocks of jasper: at the feet of the lady lies a -little dog, as the emblem of "Fidelity." Over the doorway of this chapel, -leading to a tiny sacristy, are carved the arms of Jerusalem. In the large -sacristy is a Magdalen, by Leonardo da Vinci; and some exquisite church -plate, in gold and enamel, especially a chalice, a processional cross, a -pax, etc. In the first chapel on the right, as you enter by the west door, -is a very curious figure of Christ, brought from the Holy Land, with real -hair and skin; but painful in the extreme, and almost grotesque from the -manner in which it has been dressed. This remark, however, applies to -almost all the images of Christ and of the Blessed Virgin throughout Spain, -which are rendered both sad and ludicrous to English eyes from the -petticoats and finery with which modern devotion has disfigured them. -{164} -This crucifix, however, is greatly venerated by the people, who call it -"The Christ of Burgos," and on Sundays or holidays there is no possibility -of getting near it, on account of the crowd. In the Chapel of the -Visitation are three more beautiful monuments, and a very fine picture of -the Virgin and Child, by Sebastian del Piombo. But it was impossible to -take in every portion of this cathedral at once; and so our travellers went -on to the cloisters, passing through a beautiful pointed doorway, richly -carved, which leads to the chapter-house, now a receptacle for lumber, but -containing the chest of the Cid, regarding which the old chronicle says: -"He filled it with sand, and then, telling the Jews it contained gold, -raised money on security." In justice to the hero, however, we are bound to -add, that when the necessities of the war were over, he repaid both -principal and interest. Leaving, at last, the cloisters and cathedral, and -taking leave of the kind archbishop, our party drove to the Town Hall, -where, in a walnut-wood urn, are kept the bones of the Cid, which were -removed twenty years ago from their original resting-place at Cardena. The -sight of them strengthened their resolve to make a pilgrimage to his real -tomb, which is in a Benedictine convent about eight miles from the town. -Starting, therefore, in two primitive little carriages, guiltless of -springs, they crossed the river and wound up a steep hill till they came in -sight of _Miraflores_, the great Carthusian convent, which, seen from -a distance, strongly resembles Eton College Chapel. It was built by John -II. for a royal burial-place, and was finished by Isabella of Castile. -Arriving at the monastery, from whence the monks have been expelled, and -which is now tenanted by only one or two lay brothers of the order, they -passed through a long cloister, shaded by fine cypresses, into the church, -in the chancel of which is that which may really be called one of the seven -wonders of the world. This is the alabaster sepulcher of John II. and his -wife, the father and mother of Queen Isabella, with their son, the Infante -Alonso, who died young. In richness of detail, delicacy of carving, and -beauty of execution, the work of these monuments is perfectly -unrivalled--the very material seems to be changed into Mechlin lace. The -artist was Maestro Gil, the father of the famous Diego de Siloe, who carved -the staircase in the cathedral. He finished it in 1493; and one does not -wonder at Philip II.'s exclamation when he saw it: "_We_ have done -nothing at the Escurial." In the sacristy is a wonderful statue of St. -Bruno, carved in wood, and so beautiful and life-like in expression that it -was difficult to look at anything else. - -Leaving Miraflores, our travellers broke tenderly to their coachmen their -wish to go on to Cardena. One of them utterly refused, saying the road was -impassable; the other, _moyennant_ an extra gratuity, undertook to try -it, but stipulated that the gentlemen should walk, and the ladies do the -same, if necessary. Winding round the convent garden walls, and then across -a bleak wild moor, they started, and soon found themselves involved in a -succession of ruts and sloughs of despond which more than justified the -hesitation of their driver. On the coach-box was an imp of a boy, whose -delights consisted in quickening the fears of the most timid among the -ladies by invariably making the horses gallop at the most difficult and -precipitous parts of the road, and then turning round and grinning at the -fright he had given them. It is needless to say that the carriage was not -his property. At last, the horses came to a stand-still; they could go no -further, and the rest of the way had to be done on foot. But our travellers -were not to be pitied; for the day was lovely, and the path across the moor -was studded with flowers. At last, on climbing over a steep hill which had -intercepted their view, they came on a lovely panorama, with a background -of blue mountains tipped with snow; a wooded glen, in which the brown -convent nestled, and a wild moor foreground, across which long strings of -mules with gay trappings, driven by peasants in Spanish costumes, exactly -as represented in Ansdell's paintings, were wending their way toward the -city. -{165} -Tired as some of our party were, this glorious view seemed to give them -fresh strength, and they rapidly descended the hill by the hollow path -leading to the convent. Over the great entrance is a statue of the Cid, -mounted on his favorite horse, "Babicca," who bore him to his last -resting-place, and was afterward buried beside the master he loved so well. -But the grand old building seemed utterly deserted, and a big mastiff, -fastened by an ominously slight chain to the doorway, appeared determined -to defy their attempts to enter. At last, one of them, more courageous than -the rest, tempting the Cerberus with the remains of her luncheon, got past -him, and wandered through the cloister, up a fine staircase to a spacious -corridor, in hopes of finding a guide to show them the way to the chapel, -where lay the object of their expedition, that is, the monument of the Cid. -But she was only answered by the echo of her own footsteps. The cells were -empty; the once beautiful library gutted and destroyed; the refectory had -nothing in it but bare walls--the whole place was like a city of the dead. -At last, she discovered a staircase lending down to a cloister on the side -opposite the great entrance, and there a low-arched door, which she found -ajar, admitted her into the deserted church. The tomb of the Cid has been -removed from the high altar to a side Chapel; and there is interred -likewise, his faithful and devoted wife Ximena, and their two daughters. On -his shield is emblazoned the "tizona," or sparkling brand, which the -legends affirm he always carried in his hand, and with which he struck -terror into the hearts of the infidels. This church and convent, built for -the Benedictines by the Princess Sancho, in memory of her son Theodoric, -who was killed out hunting, was sacked by the Moors in the ninth century, -when 200 of the monks were murdered. A tablet in the south transept still -remains, recording the massacre; but the monument of Theodoric has been -mutilated and destroyed. The Christian spoilers have done their work more -effectually than the Moslem! Sorrowfully our travellers left this beautiful -spot, thinking bitterly on the so-called age of progress which had left the -abode of so much learning and piety to the owls and the bats; and partly -walking, partly driving, returned without accident to the city. One more -memento of the Cid at Burgos deserves mention. It is the lock on which he -compelled the king, Alonso VI., to swear that he had had no part in his -brother Sancho's assassination at Zamora. All who wished to confirm their -word with a solemn oath used to touch it, till the practice was abolished -by Isabella, and the lock itself hung up in the old church of St. Gadea, on -the way to the castle hill, where it still rests. This is the origin of the -peasant custom of closing the hand and raising the thumb, which they kiss -in token of asseveration; and in like manner we have the old Highland -saying: "There's my thumb. I'll not betray you." - -Another charming expedition was made on the following day to Las Huelgas, -the famous Cistercian nunnery, built in some gardens outside the town by -Alonso VIII. and his wife Leonora, daughter of our King Henry II. - -When one of the ladies had asked the cardinal for a note of introduction to -the abbess, be had replied laughing: "I am afraid it would not be of much -use to you. She certainly is not under my jurisdiction, and I am not sure -whether she does not think I am under hers!" No lady abbess certainly ever -had more extraordinary privileges. She is a Princess Palatine--styled "By -the grace of God"--and has feudal power over all the lands and villages -round. She appoints her own priests and confessors, and has a hospital -about a mile from the convent, nursed by the sisters, and entirely under -her control. -{166} -After some little delay at the porter's lodge, owing to their having come -at the inconvenient hour of dinner, our party were ushered into the parlor, -and there, behind a grille, saw a beautiful old lady, dressed in wimple and -coif, exactly like a picture in the time of Chaucer. This was the -redoubtable lady abbess. There are twenty-seven choir nuns and twenty-five -lay sisters in the convent, and they follow the rule of St. Bernard. The -abbess first showed them the Moorish standard, beautifully embroidered, -taken at the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, in 1180. A curious old fresco -representing this battle remains over the arch of the church. She then took -them to the choir, which is very rich in carving, and contains the tombs of -the founders, Alonso and Leonora, and also of a number of infantas, whose -royal bodies are placed in richly carved Gothic sepulchres, resting on -lions, on each side of the choir. In the church is a curious hammered iron -gilt pulpit, in which St. Vincent de Ferrer preached. Here St. Ferdinand -and Alonso XI. knighted themselves, and here our own king, Edward I., -received the honor of knighthood at the hands of Alonso el Sabio. - -The church is a curious jumble of different dates of architecture; but -there is a beautiful tower and doorway, some very interesting old -monuments, and a fine double rose-window. The cloisters are very beautiful, -with round-beaded arches, grouped pillars, and Norman capitals. The lady -abbess then ordered one of the priests of the convent to take her English -visitors to see their hospital, called "Del Rey," the walk to which from -the convent is through pleasant fields like English meadows. It is -admirably managed and nursed by the nuns. Each patient has a bed in a -recess, which makes, as it were, a little private room for each, and this -is lined with "azulejos," or colored tiles, up to a certain height, giving -that clean bright look which distinguishes the Spanish hospitals from all -others. At the end of each ward was a little altar, where mass is daily -performed for the sick. There are fifty men and fifty women, and the -surgical department was carefully supplied with all the best and newest -instruments, which the surgeon was eager to show off to the doctor, the -only one of the party worthy of the privilege. The wards opened into a -"patio," or court, with seats and bright flowers, where the patients who -could leave their beds were sitting out and sunning themselves. Altogether, -it is a noble institution; and one must hope that the ruthless hand of -government will not destroy it in common with the other charitable -foundations of Spain. - - - Madrid. - -But the cold winds blew sharply, and our travellers resolved to hurry -south, and reserve the further treasures of Burgos for inspection on their -return. The night train conveyed them safely to Madrid, where they found a -most comfortable hotel in the "Ville de Paris," lately opened by an -enterprising Frenchman, in the "Puelta del Sol;" and received the kindest -of welcomes from the English minister, the Count T. D., and other old -friends. It was Sunday morning, and the first object was to find a church -near at hand. These are not wanting in Madrid, but all are modern, and few -in good taste: the nicest and best served is undoubtedly that of "St. Louis -des Français," though the approach to it through the crowded market is -rather disagreeable early in the morning. The witty writer of "Les Lettres -d'Espagne" says truly: "Madrid _ne me dit rien:_ c'est moderne, -aligné, propre et civilisé." As for the climate, it is detestable: bitterly -cold in winter, the east wind searching out every rheumatic joint in one's -frame, and pitilessly driving round the corners of every street; burning -hot in summer, with a glare and dust which nearly equal that of Cairo in a -simoom. - -{167} - -The Gallery, however, compensates for all. Our travellers had spent months -at Florence, at Rome, at Dresden, and fancied that nothing could come up to -the Pitti, the Uffizi, or the Vatican--that no picture could equal the "San -Sisto;" but they found they had yet much to learn. No one who has not been -in Spain can so much as imagine what Murillo is. In England he is looked -upon as the clever painter of picturesque brown beggar-boys: there is not -one of these subjects to be found in Spain, from St. Sebastian to -Gibraltar! At Madrid, at Cadiz, but especially at Seville, one learns to -know him as he is--that is, the great mystical religious painter of the -seventeenth century, embodying in his wonderful conceptions all that is -most sublime and ecstatic in devotion, and in the representation of divine -love. The English minister, speaking of this one day to a lady of the -party, explained it very simply, by saying that the English generally only -carried off those of his works in which the Catholic feeling was not so -strongly displayed. It would be hopeless to attempt to describe all his -pictures in the Madrid Gallery. The Saviour and St. John, as boys, drinking -out of a shell, is perhaps the most delicate and exquisite in coloring and -expression; but the "Conception" surpasses all. No one should compare it -with the Louvre pictures of the same subject. There is a refinement, a -tenderness, and a beauty in the Madrid "Conception" entirely wanting in the -one stolen by the French. Then there is Velasquez, with his inimitable -portraits; full of droll originality, as the "AEsop;" or of deep historical -interest, as his "Philip IV.;" or of sublime piety, as in his -"Crucifixion," with the hair falling over one side of the Saviour's face, -which the pierced and fastened hands cannot push aside: each and all are -priceless treasures, and there must be sixty or seventy in that one long -room. Ford says that "Velasquez is the Homer of the Spanish school, of -which Murillo is the Virgil." Then there are Riberas, and Zurbarans, Divino -Morales, Juan Joanes, Alonso Caño, and half-a-dozen other artists, whose -very names are scarcely known out of Spain, and all of whose works are -impregnated with that mystic, devotional self-sacrificing spirit which is -the essence of Catholicism. The Italian school is equally magnificently -represented. There are exquisite Raphaels, one especially, "La Perla," once -belonging to our Charles I., and sold by the Puritans to the Spanish king; -the "Spasimo," the "Vergin del Pesce," etc.; beautiful Titians, not only -portraits, but one, a "Magdalen," which is unknown to us by engravings or -photographs in England, where, in a green robe, she is flying from the -assaults of the devil, represented by a monstrous dragon, and in which the -drawing is as wonderful as the coloring; beautiful G. Bellinis, and Luinis, -and Andrea del Sartos (especially one of his wife), and Paul Veronese, and -others of the Venetian and Milanese schools. In a lower room there are -Dutch and Flemish chefs-d'oeuvre without end: Rubens, and Vandyke, and -Teniers, and Breughel, and Holbein, and the rest. It is a gallery -bewildering from the number of its pictures, but with the rare merit of -almost all being good; and they are so arranged that the visitor can see -them with perfect comfort at any hour of the day. In the ante-room to the -long gallery are some pictures of the present century, but none are worth -looking at save Goya's pictures of the wholesale massacre of the Spanish -prisoners by the French, which are not likely to soften the public feeling -of bitterness and hostility toward that nation. - -There is nothing very good in sculpture, only two of the antiques being -worth looking at; but there is a fine statue of Charles V., and a -wonderfully beautiful St. John of God, carrying a sick man out of the -burning hospital on his back, which is modern, but in admirable taste. -{168} -Neglected, in some side cupboards, and several of them broken and covered -with dust and dirt, are some exquisite tazzas of Benvenuto Cellini, -D'Arphes, and Beceriles, in lapis, jade, agate, and enamel, finer than any -to be seen even in the Grüne Gewölbe of Dresden. There is a gold mermaid, -studded with rubies, and with an emerald tail, and a cup with an enamelled -jewelled border and stand, which are perfectly unrivalled in beauty of -workmanship. Then, in addition to this matchless gallery, Madrid has its -"Academia," containing three of Murillo's most magnificent conceptions. One -is "St. Elizabeth of Hungary," washing the wounds of the sick, her fair -young face and delicate white hands forming a beautiful contrast with the -shrivelled brown old woman in the foreground. The expression of the saint's -countenance is that of one absorbed in her work and yet looking beyond it. -[Footnote 41] The other is the "Dream," in which the Blessed Virgin appears -to the founder of the church of St. Maria della Neve (afterward called St. -Maria Maggiore) and his wife, and suggests to them the building of a church -on a spot at Rome, which would be indicated to them by a fall of snow, -though it was then in the month of August. In the third picture the founder -and his wife are kneeling at the feet of the Pope, telling him of their -vision, and imploring his benediction on their work. These two famous -pictures were taken by Soult from Seville, and are of a lunette shape, -being made to fit the original niche for which they were painted: both are -unequalled for beauty of color and design, and have recently been -magnificently engraved, by order of the government. - - [Footnote 41: This picture was stolen from the Carldad, at Seville, by - the French, and afterward sent back to Madrid, where it still remains.] - -But apart from its galleries, Madrid is a disappointment; there is no -antiquity or interest attached to any of its churches or public buildings. -The daily afternoon diversion is the drive on the Prado; amusing from the -crowd, perhaps, but where, with the exception of the nurses, all national -costume has disappeared. There are scarcely any mantillas; but Faubourg -St.-Germain bonnets, in badly assorted colors, and horrible and exaggerated -crinolines, replacing the soft, black, flowing dresses of the south. It is, -in fact, a bad _réchauffé_ of the Bois de Boulogne. The queen, in a -carriage drawn by six or eight mules, surrounded by her escort, and -announced by trumpeters, and the infantas, following in similar carriages, -form the only "event" of the afternoon. Poor lady! how heartily sick she -must be of this promenade! She is far more pleasing-looking than her -pictures give her credit for, and has a frank kind manner which is an -indication of her good and simple nature. Her children are most carefully -brought up, and very well educated by the charming English authoress, -Madame Calderon de la Barca, well known by her interesting work on Mexico. -On Saturdays, the queen and the royal family always drive to Atocha, a -church at the extreme end of the Prado, in vile taste, but containing the -famous image of the Virgin, the patroness of Spain, to whom all the -royalties are specially devoted. It is a black image, but almost invisible -from the gorgeous jewels and dresses with which it is adorned. - -One of the shows of Madrid is the royal stables, which are well worth a -visit. There are upward of two hundred and fifty horses, and two hundred -fine mules; the backs of the latter are invariably shaved down to a certain -point, which gives them an uncomfortable appearance to English eyes, but is -the custom throughout Spain. One lady writer asserts that "it is more -modest!" There is a charming little stud belonging to the prince imperial, -which includes two tiny mules not bigger than dogs, but in perfect -proportions, about the size required to drag a perambulator. Some of the -horses are English and thoroughbred, but a good many are of the -heavy-crested Velasquez type. The carriages are of every date, and very -curious. Among them is one in which Philip I. (le Bel) was said to have -been poisoned, and in which his wife, Jeanne la Folle, still insisted on -dragging him out, believing he was only asleep. - -{169} - -More interesting to some of our party than horses and stables were the -charitable institutions in Madrid, which are admirable and very numerous. -It was on the 12th of November, 1856, that the Mère Dévos, afterward Mère -Générale of the order of St. Vincent de Paul, started with four or five of -her sisters of charity to establish their first house in Madrid. They had -many hardships and difficulties to encounter, but loving perseverance -conquered them all. The sisters now number between forty and fifty, -distributed in three houses in different parts of the city, with more than -one thousand children in their schools and orphanages, the whole being -under the superintendence of the Soeur Gottofrey, the able and charming -French "provincial" of Spain. The queen takes a lively interest in their -success, and most of the ladies of her court are more or less affiliated to -them. There are branch houses of these French sisters at Malaga, Granada, -Barcelona, and other towns; and they are now beginning to undertake -district visiting, as well as the care of the sick and the education of -children--a proceeding which they were obliged to adopt with caution, owing -to the strong prejudice felt in Spain toward any religious order's being -seen outside their "clausura," and also toward their dress, the white -cornette, which, to eyes unaccustomed to anything but black veils, appeared -outrageous and unsuitable. The Spanish sisters of charity, though -affiliated to them, following the rule of St. Vincent, and acknowledging N. -T. H. Père Étienne as their superior, still refuse to wear the cornette, -and substitute a simple white cap and black veil. These Spanish sisters -have the charge of the magnificent Foundling Hospital, which receives -upward or one thousand children; of the hospital called Las Recogidas, for -penitence; of the General Hospital, where the sick are admirably cared for -and to which is attached a wing for patients of an upper class, who pay a -small sum weekly, and have all the advantages of the clever surgery and -careful nursing of the hospital (an arrangement sadly needed in our English -hospitals); of the Hospicio de St. Maria del Cármen, founded by private -charity, for the old and incurables; of the infant school, or "salle -d'asile," where the children are fed as well as taught; and of the Albergo -dei Poveri, equivalent to what we should call a workhouse in England, but -which we cannot desecrate by such a name when speaking of an establishment -conducted on the highest and noblest rules of Christian charity, and where -the orphans find not only loving care and tender watchfulness, but -admirable industrial training, fitting them to fill worthily any -employments to which their natural inclination may lead them. The Sacré -Coeur have a large establishment for the education of the upper classes at -Chaumartin de la Rosa, a suburb of Madrid, about four miles from the town. -It was founded by the Marquesa de Villa Nueva, a most saint-like person, -whose house adjoins, and in fact forms part of the convent--her bedroom -leading into a tribune overlooking the chapel and the blessed sacrament. -The view from the large garden, with the mountains on the one hand, and the -stone pine woods on the other, is very pretty, and unlike anything else in -the neighborhood of Madrid. The superior, a charming person, showed the -ladies all over the house, which is large, commodious, and airy, and in -which they have already upward of eighty pupils. They have a very pretty -chapel, and in the parlor a very beautiful picture of St. Elizabeth, by a -modern artist. - -One more "lion" was visited before leaving Madrid, and that was the armory, -which is indeed well worth a long and careful examination. The objects it -contains are all of deep historical interest. -{170} -There is a collar-piece belonging to Philip II., with scenes from the -battle of St. Quentin exquisitely carved; a helmet taken from the -unfortunate Boabdil, the last Moorish king of Granada; beautiful Moorish -arms and Turkish banners taken at the battle of Lepanto, in old Damascus -inlaid-work; the swords of Boabdil, and of Ferdinand and Isabella; the -armor of the Cid, of Christopher Columbus, of Charles V., of St. Ferdinand, -and of Philip II.; the carriage of Charles V., looking like a large -bassinet; exquisite shields, rapiers, swords, and helmets; some very -curious gold ornaments, votive crowns, and crosses of the seventh century; -and heaps of other treasures too numerous to be here detailed. But our -travellers were fairly exhausted by their previous sight-seeing, and gladly -reserved their examination of the rest to a future day. At all times, a -return to a place is more interesting than a first visit; for in the latter -one is oppressed by the feeling of the quantity to be seen and the short -time there is to see it in, and so the intense anxiety and fatigue destroy -half one's enjoyment of the objects themselves. That evening they were to -leave the biting east winds of Madrid for the more genial climate of sunny -Malaga; and so, having made sundry very necessary purchases, including -mantillas and chocolate, and having eaten what turned out to be their last -good dinner for a very long time, they started off by an eight o'clock -train for Cordova, which was to be their halting place midway. On reaching -Alcazar, about one o'clock in the morning, they had to change trains, as -the one in which they were branched off to Valencia; and for two hours they -were kept waiting for the Cordova train. Oh! the misery of those wayside -stations in Spain! One long low room filled with smokers and passengers of -every class, struggling for chocolate, served in dirty cups by uncivil -waiters, with insufficient seats and scant courtesy: no wonder that the -Spaniards consider our waiting-rooms real palaces. You have no alternative -in the winter season but to endure this foetid, stifling atmosphere, and be -blinded with smoke, or else to freeze and shiver outside, where there are -no benches at all, and your only hope is to get a corner of a wall against -which you can lean and be sheltered from the bitter wind. The arrival of -the up train brought, therefore, unmixed joy to our party, who managed to -secure a compartment to themselves without any smokers (a rare privilege in -Spain), and thus got some sleep for a few hours. At six o'clock the train -stopped, the railroad went no further; so the passengers turned out -somewhat ruefully, in the cold, and gazed with dismay at the lumbering -dirty diligences, looking as if they had come out of the Ark, which were -drawn up, all in a row, at the station door, with ten, twelve, or fourteen -mules harnessed to each, and by which they and their luggage were to be -conveyed for the next eight hours. The station master was a Frenchman, and -with great civility, during the lading of the diligences, gave up to the -ladies his own tiny bedroom, and some fresh water to wash themselves a -little, and make themselves comfortable after their long night journey, for -there was no pretence of a waiting-room at this station. - -Reader, did you ever go in a Spanish diligence? It was the first experience -of most of our party of this means of locomotion, and at first seemed -simply impossible. The excessive lowness of the carriages, the way in which -the unhappy passengers are jammed in, either into the _coupé_ in -front, or into the square box behind, unable to move or sit upright in -either; while the mules plunge and start off in every direction but the -right one, their drivers every instant jumping down and running by the side -of the poor beasts, which they flog unmercifully, vociferating in every -key; and that, not at first starting, but all the way, up hill and down -dale, with an energy which is as inexhaustible as it is despairing, till -either a pole cracks or a trace breaks, or some accident happens to a -wheel, and the whole lumbering concern stops with a jerk and a lurch which -threaten to roll everything and everybody into the gorge below. -{171} -Each diligence is accompanied by a "mayoral," or conductor, who has charge -of the whole equipage, and is a very important personage. This functionary -is generally gorgeously dressed, with embroidered jacket, scarlet sash -round the waist, gaiters with silver buttons and hanging leather strips, -and round his head a gay-colored handkerchief and a round black felt hat -with broad brim and feather, or else of the kind denominated "pork pie" in -England; he is here, there, and everywhere during the journey, arranging -the places of the passengers, the stations for halts, and the like. Besides -this dignitary, there is the "moto" or driver, whose business is to be -perpetually jumping down and flogging the far-off mules into a trot, which -he did with such cruelly that our travellers often hoped he would himself -get into trouble in jumping up again, which, unfortunately, he was always -too expert to do. Every mule has its name, and answers to it. They are -harnessed two abreast, a small boy riding on the leaders; and it is on his -presence of mind and skill that the guidance and safety of the whole team -depend. On this occasion, the "mayoral" and "moto" leant with their backs -against what was left of the windows of the _coupé_, which they -instantly smashed, the cold wind rushed in, and the passengers were -alternately splashed from head to foot with the mud cast up in their faces -by the mules' heels, or choked and blinded with dust. For neither -misfortune is there either redress or sympathy. The lower panels of the -floor and doors have holes cut in them to let out the water and mud; but -the same agreeable arrangement, in winter, lets in a wind which threatens -to freeze off your feet as you sit. A small boy, who, it is to be supposed, -was learning his trade, held on by his eyelids to a ledge below, and was -perpetually assisting in screaming and flogging. A struggle at some kind of -vain resistance, and then a sullen despair and a final making up one's mind -that, after all, it can't last forever, are the phases through which the -unhappy travellers pass during these agreeable diligence journeys. It was -some little time before our party could get sufficiently reconciled to -their misery to enjoy the scenery. But when they could look about them, -they found themselves passing through a beautiful gorge, and up a zigzag -road, like the lower spurs of an Alpine pass, over the Sierra Morena. Then -began the descent, during which some of the ladies held their breath, -expecting to be dashed over the parapet at each sharp turn in the road; the -pace of the mules was never relaxed, and the unwieldy top-heavy mass -oscillated over the precipice below in a decidedly unpleasant manner. Then -they came into a fertile region of olives and aloes, and so on by divers -villages and through roads which the late rains had made almost impassable, -and in passing over which every bone in their bodies seemed dislocated in -their springless vehicle, till, at two o'clock in the afternoon, they -reached the station, where, to their intense relief, they again came upon a -railroad. Hastily swallowing some doubtful chocolate, they established -themselves once more comfortably in the railway carriage; but after being -in the enjoyment of this luxury for half an hour, the train came, all of a -sudden, to a stand-still; and the doors being opened, they were politely -told that they must _walk_, as a landslip had destroyed the line for -some distance. Coming at last to a picturesque town with a fine bridge over -the Guadalquiver, they were allowed once more to take their seats in the -carriages, and finally arrived at Cordova at eight o'clock at night, after -twenty-four hours of travelling, alternating from intense cold to intense -heat, very tired indeed, horribly dusty and dirty, and without having had -any church all day. - - To be continued - --------- - -{172} - - From All the Year Round. - - Looking Down The Road. - - - In the early spring-time - My long watch began; - Through the daisied meadows - Merry children ran; - Happy lovers wandered - Through the forest deep, - Seeking mossy corners - Where the violets sleep. - I in one small chamber - Patiently abode-- - At my garret window - Looking down the road. - - Watching, watching, watching, - For what came not back! - Summer marked in flowers - All her sunny track, - Hid the dim blue distance - With her robe of green, - Bathed the nearer meadows - In a golden sheen. - Full the fierce sure arrows - Glanced and gleamed and glowed - On my garret window - Looking down the road. - - Watching, watching, watching, - Oh! the pain of hope! - Autumn's shadows lengthened - On the breezy slope; - Groups of tired reapers - Led the loaded wains - From the golden meadows, - Through the dusky lanes; - Home-returning footsteps - O'er the pathway strode-- - Not the one I looked for. - Coming down the road. - -{173} - - Winter stripped the branches - Of the roadside tree: - But the frosty hours - Brought no change for me-- - Save that I could better, - Through the branches brown. - See the tired travellers - Coming from the town. - Pitiless December - Rained and hailed and snowed. - On my garret window - Looking down the road. - - At the last I saw it - (Not the form I sought), - Something brighter, purer, - Blessed my sleeping thought. - 'Twas a white-robed angel-- - At his steadfast eyes - Paled the wild-fire brightness - Of old memories. - Nearer drew the vision, - While with bated breath - Some one seemed to whisper, - The Deliverer, "Death." - Then my dreaming spirit, - Eased of half its load, - Saw the white wings lessen - Down the dusty road. - - God has soothed my sorrow, - He has purged my sin; - Earthly hopes have perished-- - Heavenly rest I win. - Dull and dead endurance - Is no portion here; - I am strong to labor, - And my rest is near. - Lifting my dull glances - From the fields below, - So the light of heaven - Settles on my brow. - O my God. I thank thee, - Who that angel showed, - From my garret window - Looking down the road. - --------- - -{174} - - Original. - - Father Ignatius of St. Paul,[Footnote 42] - - Hon. and Rev. George Spencer. - - [Footnote 42: Life of F. Ignatius of St. Paul, Passionist. By the Rev. - F. Pius a Sancto, Passionist. 1 vol. 12mo. Dublin, James Duffy.] - -Fresh from the perusal of this book, we would gladly convey to others the -agreeable impression it has left on our imagination. It is an interesting -and impartial biography, full of pleasant incidents, simply narrated; with -the view of throwing light upon the character of F. Ignatius, and not upon -the personal views of his biographer. But we would rather dwell upon its -value as the life of a saintly man, whose circumstances were so nearly akin -to those of common Christians that no one can assert the impossibility of -imitating his example. We have observed, in reading the lives of the -saints, that one must himself be a saint to appreciate them aright. -Generally severed from us (to our shame be it spoken) by time, race, and -national habits, we are startled by strange details, and while wondering -over individual idiosyncrasies we lose sight of the heroic purity of -intention that hallowed almost every action of their mature lives. - -In F. Ignatius we have a warm-hearted, frank, humorous Englishman, whose -memory is fresh in the hearts of thousands now living. Though belonging to -one of the noblest families in England, his training was simple, and his -position as rector in a country parish was not so dazzling as to set him -above the sympathies of those who read his life. His natural virtues were -weighed down by a love of approbation that has ruined many a soul before -now. He was accomplished, but not learned. Keen, sympathetic, and -perceptive, but neither a philosopher nor a logician. In short, he was not -set apart from the rest of humanity by any natural endowment; and yet one -lays down his biography with a sense of having made acquaintance with one -of the remarkable men of this century. Why? We cannot but suppose that it -was because he placed every faculty under the guidance of God, who worked -wonders with capacities by no means rare; and from an unready utterance -brought forth fruits of conversion that probably surprised no one so much -as the preacher himself. - -Hon. George Spencer was the youngest child of John George, Earl Spencer, -and Lavinin, daughter of Sir Charles Bingham, afterward Earl of Lucan. - -Earl Spencer was successively member of parliament, one of the lords of the -treasury, and first lord of the admiralty, succeeding Lord Chatham in the -last-named office in the year 1794. It was while Earl Spencer was lord of -the admiralty, in London, December 21, 1799, that the subject of our -narrative first saw the light, or what goes by the name of light, during a -December in London. - -His first recollections, oddly enough, are of his six-year-old birthday, -when his sister's governess, a Swiss lady, took him aside as for serious -conversation, and told him of the existence of God, and some other truths -of religion. Possibly he had heard these things before, but the room at -Althorp where the scene took place, and the tender solicitude of the lady's -manner, were ever after imprinted on his memory as if connected with a -momentous occasion. - -{175} - -At nine years old, with his favorite brother, Frederick, be was carried in -a grand equipage to Eton, and placed under the charge of a private tutor, -the Rev. Richard Godley, who lived at the "Wharf," about half a mile from -the college buildings. Mr. Godley's rule was a severe but blessed one, and -young Spencer owed four years of marvellous innocence to its restrictions. -"Egyptian bondage" he thought it, poor little fellow, that several times a -day, summer and winter, be must run across the playgrounds to report -himself to the tutor. He lived between two fires: the wrath of elder boys -who called upon him to fag for them as he rushed through the -cricket-ground, and the terror of Mr. Godley's awful countenance if he and -Frederick arrived a few minutes late. "As might be expected," he says, in -his autobiography, "the more we were required to observe rules and customs -different from others, the more did a certain class of big bullies in the -school seem to count it their especial business to watch over us, as though -they might be our evil geniuses. A certain set of faces, consequently, I -looked upon with a kind of mysterious dread, and I was under a constant -sense of being as though in an enemy's country, obliged to guard against -dangers on all sides. Shrinking and skulking became my occupation beyond -the ordinary lot of little schoolboys, and my natural disposition to be -cowardly and spiritless was perhaps increased. I say perhaps, for other -circumstances might have made me worse; for what I was in the eyes of the -masters of public opinion in the school I really was--a chicken-hearted -creature, what in Eton language is called a _sawney_. It may be that -had I been from the first in free intercourse among the boys, instead of -being a good innocent one I might have been, what I suppose must be -reckoned one of the worst varieties of public school characters, a mean, -dishonorable one." - -The experiment of close contact with other boys was too soon to be tried. -Mr. Godley's influence appeared to be dangerously evangelical. "The -Pilgrim's Progress" and "Alleine's Alarm" were recommended to George by his -tutor's sisters, and did not find favor at Althorp in the holidays. We next -hear of him at the Rev. ----'s, performing most of the duties of a footman -to one or two big boys, and enduring initiation in the iniquities of public -school-life. Everyone knows how valuable a prize to youthful tyrants is a -child in whom innocence and moral cowardice are combined; and such a prize -was George Spencer, blushing at immodest words, and ignorant of the nice -distinction between thieving and orchard robbing that exists in the minds -of school-boys only. Evening after evening the little boys' rooms were -invaded, their occupations broken up, and persecution carried on against -one or other of their set. For a little while Spencer used to find a little -time of peace when, after such a turmoil, be got into bed, said his -prayers, and cried himself to sleep. But the atmosphere was anti-religious, -and in the course of ten days be had given up all attempt to pray. A moment -of bitter self reproach awaited him. One day he was present when one of the -rudest of his tormentors was dressing himself. "To my surprise," he says, -"he turned to me, and with his usual civility said some such words as 'Now -hold your jaw,' and then, down on his knees near the bed, and his face -between his hands, said his prayers. I then saw for a moment to what I had -fallen, when even this fellow had more religion than unhappy I had -retained, but I had no grain of strength now left to rise. ..." - - "When I had ceased attempting to maintain my pious feelings, the best - consolation I had was in the company of a few boys of a spirit congenial - to what mine was now become. All the time that I remained at Eton I never - learnt to take pleasure in the manly, active games for which it is so - famous. It is not that I was without some natural talent for such things. -{176} - I have since had my time of most ardent attachment to cricket, to tennis, - shooting, hunting, and all active exercises: but my spirit was bent down - at Eton; and among the boys who led the way in all manly pursuits, I was - always shy and miserable, which was partly a cause and partly an effect - of my being looked down upon by them. My pleasure there was in being with - a few boys like myself, without spirit for these things, retired apart - from the sight of others, amusing ourselves with making arbors and - catching little fishes in the streams; and many were the hours I wasted - in such childish things when I was grown far too old for them. - - "Oh! the happiness of a Catholic child, whose inmost soul is known to one - whom God has charged with his salvation. Supposing I had been a Catholic - child in such a situation--if such a supposition be possible--the pious - feelings with which God inspired me would have been under the guidance of - a tender spiritual father, who would have supplied exactly what I needed, - when about to fall under the sense of unassisted weakness which I have - described. He would have taught me to be innocent and firm in the midst - of my trials, which would then have tended to exalt instead of oppressing - my character. I would have kept my character not only clear in the sight - of God, but honorable among my fellows, who soon would have given up - their persecution when they found me steadfast; and I might have brought - with me in the path of peace and justice many whom I followed in the dark - ways of sin. But it is in vain to calculate on what I might have been had - I been then a Catholic. God be praised, my losses I may yet recover, and - perhaps even reap advantages from them." - -So much for the sad and puny childhood of one who in after-life freed -himself absolutely from the bondage of public opinion. He who can truly -say, "Tu solus Domine!" has reached the sublimest height of dignity and -freedom. - -If George Spencer's early years gave small promise of moral heroism, still -less would his youth lead one to look for great virtues in him. His -autobiography tells us that he yielded to the degrading temptations of -student life at Cambridge, not from inclination so much as because other -men set him the example. Two years of misery he endured, too, from the fear -that a courteous and merited apology made by him to a gentleman whom he had -unwittingly offended might have laid him open to the charge of cowardice. - -As a scholar he ranked high, and held, at the same time, a good place among -athletes; thus showing advance in mind and body, while his soul was still -cramped by the fear of ridicule. - -Then comes the continental tour, made after a grand and uninteresting -fashion; courier, servants, maids, and family physician. George's journal -is full of the sneers with which a well-bred English tourist is wont to -exorcise the demon of popery. He is much amused at the street-preaching of -a passionist father in Terracina; little dreaming that one day he himself -would perform the duties of a _svegliarino_, and with only partial -success too. - -One admires constantly the good sense and high tone of Lord and Lady -Spencer. Invaluable was the example they gave their children; wonderful to -an American reader, the sway they exercised over their grown-up sons. - -Soon after returning to England, Mr. Spencer took orders and entered upon -the life of a country clergyman. By fulfilling in person the arduous duties -which are too often left to a curate, he gave evidence of true nobility of -character; but so deficient in judgment and in deference to superiors was -his general conduct, that the world wondered more at his lack of common -sense than at his courage. Viewed from the present time, the germs of -sanctity are plainly visible in these vague struggles after perfection. He -practised great mortifications, concealing them as far as was possible. He -inveighed against tepidity wherever shown with an independence as valiant -as it was unpleasant to the objects of his condemnation. No very -comfortable member of a diocese was the Hon. Mr. Spencer in those days. -Bishop Bloomfield, his former tutor, bore his vagaries with fatherly -patience, and, looking through the mist of Methodism that hung about his -views, acutely detected the true difficulty, and recommended as a cure The -Poor Man's Preservative against Popery, by Blanco White. -{177} -On one occasion when Dr. Bloomfield read prayers in his own church, St. -Botolph's, Bishopsgate, Mr. Spencer, who was invited to preach, took the -occasion to explain these evangelical views of religion, intimating that -the congregation were not in the habit of hearing the gospel fully and -faithfully expounded. The bishop was wounded, but he only said: "George, -how could you preach such a sermon as that? In future I must look over your -sermon before you go into the pulpit." - -Here is a scrap from his journal about the same time, 1824, or thereabout: -"The Bishop of Bristol preached in the morning for the schools a sermon -worthy of Plato rather than St. Paul." And another day: "Went with all -speed to Craven chapel, where I heard Irving, the Scotch minister, preach -nearly two hours. I was greatly delighted with his eloquence and stout -Christian doctrine, though his manner is most blamably extravagant." And -again: "I went with Mr. A---- and Miss B---- to hear Mrs. Fry perform, and -was delighted to hear her expounding to the prisoners in Newgate." - -Among evangelical believers, Mr. Spencer found an energy and a missionary -spirit which harmonized with his own zealous nature. In theological matters -he was dissatisfied whithersoever he turned. In 1822, soon after being made -deacon, his early tendencies to high church principles had received a blow -from which they never recovered. He shall tell the circumstances in his own -simple words. - - "I was at the time living at Althorp, my Father's principal residence in - the country, serving as a curate to the parish to which it was attached, - though the park itself is extraparochial. Among the visitors who resorted - there was one of the most distinguished scholars of the day, to whom, as - to many more of the Anglican Church, I owe a debt of gratitude for the - interest which he took in me, and for the help I actually received from - him in the course of inquiry, which has happily terminated in the haven - of the true church. I should like to make a grateful and honorable - mention of his name, but as this has been found fault with I forbear, - [Footnote 43] I was one day explaining to him with earnestness the line - of argument which I was pursuing with dissenters, and my hopes from it; I - suppose I expected encouragement, such as I had received from many - others. But he simply and candidly said: 'These would be very convenient - doctrines if we could make use of them, but they are available only for - Roman Catholics; they will not serve us.' I saw in a moment the truth of - his remark, and his character and position gave it additional weight. I - did not answer him; but as a soldier who has received what he feels to be - a mortal wound will suddenly stand still, and then quietly retire out of - the mélée, and seek a quiet spot to die in, so I went away with my high - churchism mortally wounded in the very prime of its vigor and youth, to - die forever to the character of an Anglican high churchman. Why did not - this open my eyes, you will say, to the truth of Catholicity? I answer, - simply because my early prejudices were too strong. The unanswerable - remark of my friend was like a _reductio ad absurdum_ of all high - church ideas. If they were true, the Catholic would be so; which is - absurd, as I remember Euclid would say, 'Therefore,' etc. The grand - support of the high church system, church authority, having been thus - overthrown, it was an easy though gradual work to get out of my mind all - its minor details and accomplishments, one after another; such as regard - for holy places, for holy days, for consecrated persons, for - ecclesiastical writers; finally, almost all definite dogmatic notions. It - would seem that all was slipping away, when, coming to the conviction of - the truth of Catholicity, some years after, it was with extraordinary - delight I found myself picking up again the shattered dispersed pieces of - the beautiful fabric, and placing them now in better order on the right - foundation, solid and firm, no longer exposed to such a catastrophe as - had upset my card-castle of Anglican churchhmanship." - - [Footnote 43: This distinguished scholar was Dr. Elmaly.] - -The divided state of his own parish occupied Mr. Spencer's thoughts, and he -devoted himself to winning dissenters into the fold by other means than -high church arguments. He tried to stretch open the gates of the -establishment so as to admit all classes of religionists to her communion. -Another system seemed more likely to prove efficacious, namely, the -beautiful example he set of devotion in his parish; making great sacrifices -for the poor, and qualifying himself to perform the offices of a physician -to the body as well as to the soul. - -{178} - -But new difficulties were in store for him in matters of faith. The -Athanasian creed begins to disturb him, not because of its doctrines, but -because of the condemnatory clauses at the beginning and end. He is now -rector of Brington, with excellent prospects of advancement. Is he not -bound to resign his position, since he cannot agree in full with the -Establishment? "No," says the Bishop of Peterborough; "there is a -difference between an open attack upon the liturgy and thirty-nine -articles, and the entertaining of private doubts to be confided to a friend -with the hope of having them removed. It would have been a sufficient cause -for choosing another profession than that of the ministry; but, being -already in holy orders, it is not a sufficient reason for resignation." -"No," said Dr. Blomfield; "it is one thing to doubt the truth of a -doctrine, and another to believe it false. Besides, the Protestant Church -does not pretend to pronounce a sentence of condemnation like the Church of -Rome. These clauses are merely intended to assert the truth of certain -dogmas very emphatically." - -That this line of argument was not convincing it is easy to see. The result -was that Mr. Spencer informed his superiors that he should give up reading -the Athanasian creed in his church. Then feeling certain that he was no -longer in danger of promotion, he threw himself with renewed ardor into the -work of reconciling all sects to each other. - -His family as a last resource bethought them of marrying him to a lady who -had charmed him in his college days. No; his conviction was that he ought -not to marry. One pities the disappointment of Lord and Lady Spencer. This -son, whom they had placed in an admirable position in life, who had every -attraction of manner and person that could insure worldly success, seemed -determined to thwart their efforts for his happiness, and to disappoint -parental ambition. But they little imagined how far his reckless -unworldliness would finally carry him. - -On the 23d of November, 1827, when he returned from his parochial -visitation, he found a letter purporting to come from a gentlemen in Lille, -who was "grievously troubled about the arguments for popery." Ever desirous -to strengthen the wavering, Rev. Mr. Spencer entered into a long -correspondence, which resulted in a promise on his own part to follow his -correspondent into the Catholic Church if he would acknowledge his true -name and pause awhile before joining the Catholics. He tells us: - - "I heard no more of him till after my conversion and arrival at Rome, - when I discovered that my correspondent was a lady, who had herself been - converted a short time before she wrote to me. I never heard her name - before (Miss Dolling), nor am I aware that she had ever seen me; but God - moved her to desire and pray for my salvation, which she also undertook - to bring about in the way I have related. I cannot say that I entirely - approve of the stratagem to which she had recourse, but her motive was - good, and God gave success to her attempt, for it was this that first - directed my attention particularly to inquire about the Catholic - religion, though she lived not to know the accomplishment of her wishes - and prayers. She died at Paris, a year before my conversion, when about - to take the veil as a nun of the Sacred Heart; and I trust I have in her - an intercessor in heaven, as she prayed for me so fervently on earth." - -Not being restrained, as was Mr. Spencer, by a sense of personal gratitude, -we may be allowed to express entire disapproval of the stratagem of the -"Maid of Lille." Like most other plots, it was quite unnecessary. Rev. Mr. -Spencer would have listened with profound attention to any person who -claimed to possess the truth, and it was offering him an indignity to trick -him into attention, as foolish mothers decoy their children to the -dentist's. - -None the less, however, were Miss Dolling's arguments strong and -convincing: "That Scripture without tradition is quite insufficient for -salvation. -{179} -We cannot know anything about the Scriptures themselves, their composition, -inspiration, interpretation, without tradition. Besides, the New Testament -was not the text-book of the apostles. It is a collection of some things -they were inspired to write for the edification of the first Christians and -others who had not seen our Lord; and the epistles are a number of letters -from inspired men bound up together in one volume. The body of doctrine, -with its bearings, symmetry, extent, and obligation, was delivered orally -by the apostles, and the epistles must be consonant to that system as well -as explanatory of portions of it. Only by the unbroken succession of -pastors from the apostles to the present time can we have any safeguard as -to what we shall believe, and how we are to believe. The apostles and their -successors were 'to teach all nations,' and Christ promised them, and them -alone, the unerring guide of the Holy Spirit." She then assigns to -tradition the office of bearing testimony to what the doctrines of the -church have been and are at present. The definitions of councils are simple -declarations that such and such is the belief then, and from the beginning -of the Catholic Church. They state what is, not invent what is to be. Now, -history or written tradition, as contradistinguished from Scripture, -testifies to every simple tenet of the Catholic Church--her creeds, -liturgy, sacraments, jurisdiction. It testifies unerringly, too, even from -the objections of heretics, to the fact that this church has been always -believed divine in her origin, divine in her teaching, infallible and -unerring in her solemn pronouncements. This is fact, and who can gainsay -it? - -Toward the end of the year 1829, Rev. Mr. Spencer made the acquaintance of -Mr. Ambrose Lisle Phillips, who was then seventeen years old. A few weeks -later he visited this new friend at Garendon Park, Loughbro', a visit the -result of which is best given in his own words: - - "On Sunday, Jan. 24, 1830, I preached in my church, and in the evening - took leave of my family for the week, intending to return on the Saturday - following to my ordinary duties at home. But our Lord ordered better for - me. During the week I spent on this visit, I passed many hours daily in - conversation with Phillips, and was satisfied beyond all my expectations - with the answers he gave to the different questions I proposed about the - principal tenets and practices of the Catholics. During the week we were - in company with several other Protestants, and among them some - distinguished clergymen of the Church of England, who occasionally joined - in our discussions. I was struck with observing how the advantage always - appeared on his side in the arguments which took place between them, - notwithstanding their superior age and experience; and I saw how weak was - the cause in behalf of which I had hitherto been engaged; I felt ashamed - of arguing any longer against what I began to see clearly could not be - fairly disproved. I now openly declared myself completely shaken, and, - though I determined to take no decided step until I was entirely - convinced, I determined to give myself no rest till I was satisfied, and - had little doubt now of what the result would be. But yet I thought not - how soon God would make the truth clear to me. I was to return home, as I - have said, on Saturday. Phillips agreed to accompany me on the day - previous to Leicester, where we might have further conversation with - Father Caestryck, the Catholic missionary established in that place. I - imagined that I might take some weeks longer for consideration, but Mr. - Caestryck's conversation that afternoon overcame all my opposition. He - explained to me, and made me see, that the way to come at the knowledge - of the true religion is not to contend, as men are disposed to do, about - each individual point, but to submit implicitly to the authority of - Christ, and of those to whom he has committed the charge of his flock. He - set before me the undeniable but wonderful fact of the agreement of the - Catholic Church all over the world, in one faith, under one head; he - showed me the assertions of Protestants that the Catholic Church had - altered her doctrines were not supported by evidence; he pointed out the - wonderful, unbroken chain of the Roman pontiffs; he observed to me how in - all ages the church, under their guidance, had exercised an authority, - indisputed by her children, of cutting off from her communion all who - opposed her faith and disobeyed her discipline. I saw that her assumption - of this power was consistent with Christ's commission to his apostles to - teach all men to the end of the world; and his declaration that those who - would not hear the pastors of his church rejected him. What right, then, - thought I, had Luther and his companions to set themselves against the - united voice of the church? -{180} - I saw that he rebelled against the authority of God when he set himself - up as an independent guide. He was bound to obey the Catholic Church--how - then should I not be equally bound to return to it? And need I fear that - I should be led into error by trusting to those guides to whom Christ - himself thus directed me? No! I thought this impossible. Full of these - impressions, I left Mr. Caestryck's house to go to my inn, whence I was - to to return home next morning. Phillips accompanied me, and took this - last occasion to impress on me the awful importance of the decision which - I was called upon to make. At length I answered: - - "'I am overcome. There is no doubt of the truth. One more Sunday I will - preach to my congregation, and then put myself into Mr. Foley's hands, - and conclude this business.' - - "It may be thought with what joyful ardor he embraced this declaration, - and warned me to declare my sentiments faithfully in these my last - discourses. The next minute led me to this reflection: Have I any right - to stand in that pulpit, being once convinced that the church is - heretical to which it belongs? Am I safe in exposing myself to the danger - which may attend one day's travelling while I turn my back on the church - of God, which now calls upon me to unite myself to her forever? I said to - Phillips, 'If this step is right for me to take next week, it is my duty - to take it now. My resolution is made; to-morrow I will be received into - the church.' We lost no time in despatching a messenger to my father, to - inform him of this unexpected event. As I was forming my last resolution, - the thought of him came across me; will it not be said that I endanger - his very life by so sudden and severe a shock? The words of our Lord rose - before me and answered all my doubts: 'He that hateth not father and - mother, and brothers and sisters, and houses and lands, and his own life - too, cannot be my disciple.' To the Lord, then, I trusted for the support - and comfort of my dear father under the trial which, in obedience to his - call, I was about to inflict upon him. I had no further anxiety to - disturb me. God alone knows the peace and joy with which I laid me down - that night to rest. The next day, at nine o'clock, the church received me - for her child." - -Far from finding himself harshly received by his family after his -conversion, Mr. Spencer's domestic relations remained quite undisturbed. It -was in the early days of conversions in England; Tractarianism was in its -very infancy, and Earl Spencer had always shown kindness to Catholics, as -to a vanquished enemy. - -When his son returned from Rome as a priest in 1832 and took possession of -his parish at West Bromwich, one of the poorest in the diocese, Lord -Spencer made ample provision for his support. In 1834 this excellent -nobleman died, and with the legacy left by him to Father Spencer, several -churches and missions were established. It was a theory of Father Spencer's -that the evangelical counsels could be practiced as well in the world as in -a religious life. In order to carry out this experiment he placed all his -possessions at the command of Right Rev. Dr. Walsh, his bishop, who -appointed an _économe_ to supply his necessities and those of his -church. - -That his conversion was not allowed to pass without sharp criticism from -Protestants can be easily imagined. He was pensive partly by nature, -partly, perhaps, from the feeling that his actions were misunderstood by -his old companions and friends. All the more attractive was the quaint -humor that lighted up his conversation. "One day when speaking with a -brother priest with sad earnestness about the spiritual destitution of the -poor people around him, who neither knew God nor would listen to those who -were willing to teach them, a poor woman knocked at the sacristy door, and -was ordered to come in; she fell on her knees very reverently to get Father -Spencer's blessing as soon as she approached him. His companion observed -that this poor woman reminded him of the mother of the sons of Zebedee, who -came to our Savior _adorans_. 'Yes,' replied Father Spencer, with a -very arch smile, 'and not only _adorans_, but _petens aliquid ab -eo_.'" - -Though so harshly handled sometimes by Protestants, Mr. Spencer exercised a -forbearance toward them that all converts would do well to imitate. -Remembering his own honest delusions, he attributed sincerity to the -adherents of every sect. -{181} -"Some were supposing once in his presence that it was impossible for -followers of Joanna Southcote, and the like, not to be fully aware that -they were being deluded. Father Ignatius said it was not so, and related a -peculiar case that he witnessed himself. He happened to be passing through -Birmingham, and had occasion to enter a shop there to order something. The -shopkeeper asked him if he had heard of the great light that had arisen in -these modern times. He said no. 'Well, then,' repeated the shopman, 'here, -sir, is something to enlighten you,' handing him a neatly got up pamphlet. -He had not time to glance at the title when his friend behind the counter -ran on at a great rate in a speech something to the following effect: That -the four gospels were all figures and myths, that the epistles were only -faint foreshadowings of the real sun of justice that was now at length -arisen. The Messias was come in the person of a Mr. Ward, and he would see -the truth demonstrated beyond the possibility of a doubt by looking at the -gospel he held in his hand. While the shopman was expressing hopes of -converting him, he took the opportunity of looking at the pamphlet, and -found that all this new theory of religion was built upon a particular way -of printing the text: _'Glory be to God on high, and on earth peace -to--Ward's men._' On turning away in disgust from his fruitless -remonstrances with this specimen of _Ward's men_, he found some of -_Ward's women_, also, in the same place, and overheard them -exclaiming: 'Oh, little England knows what a treasure they have in ---- -jail!' The pretended Messias happened to be in prison for felony at the -time." He declared that these poor creatures were entirely sincere and -earnest in the faith they had in this malefactor. - -This belief in the genuineness of all kinds of religious convictions, -joined to his passionate love of country, led Father Spencer to engage in -the great work of his life--the forming of an Association of Prayers for -the Conversion of England. Mr. Phillips joined with him heartily in the -project, and it was a new element of joy in their beautiful friendship. -From the year 1838 to the day of his death, Father Spencer labored -unceasingly for this end. Many persons grew sick of the very sound of the -words, and did not hesitate to tell him so either; but through praise, -blame, success, or ridicule he labored unceasingly,--and works now, we may -be sure, in heaven this very day for the same end. Who can doubt that such -petitions will be granted? - -After nine years of hardship, persecution, and loving labor as a parish -priest, Father Spencer was called to Oscott College to take charge of the -spiritual affairs of the students. - -By education he was well suited to hold so distinguished a position. He was -admirably versed in the French, Italian, and German languages; a good -classical and mathematical scholar of course (having been a first-class -Cambridge man), and well read both in Protestant and Catholic theology. His -intercourse with the young men was very charming. He would make up a game -at cricket, go heartily into all their youthful sports, and even give -lessons to beginners. In spiritual matters he had a very fascinating way of -throwing a certain poetry into what is usually considered the prosaic part -of priestly duties. Between these two moods there was a third, in which, -with a kindly assumption of equality, as it were, he would take them into -his interests as genially as he entered into theirs. - -In 1844 Father Spencer went abroad for his health, and accomplished much -for the Association of Prayers. In the following year he returned to -England, and entered at once into retreat under the direction of Father -Thomas Clarke, S.J., in Hodder place. From this retreat he came forth with -a fixed determination to join the order of the Passionists, lately -established in England by his friend Padre Domenico. How happy the results -of this decision were the following pages will show. - -{182} - -The Congregation of the Passion was founded by Blessed Paul of the Cross -about the middle of the last century, and approved by Benedict XIV., -Clement XIV., and Pius VI. Its object is to work for the sanctification of -the souls of the faithful; to which end it uses, not only preaching and the -sacraments, but the diffusion of devotion to the passion of Christ. This -work is accomplished by means of missions, retreats, and parish work in -passionist houses. If necessary, the fathers take charge of a parish; -otherwise they work in their own churches as missioners. They teach only -their own younger members, and they go on foreign missions when sent by the -Holy Father or the Propaganda. - - "To keep the members of an order always ready for their out-door work," - says F. Pius, "there are certain rules for their interior life which may - be likened to the drill or parade of soldiers in their quarters. This - discipline varies according to the spirit of each order. - - "The idea of a passionist's work will lead us to expect what his - discipline must be. The spirit of a passionist is a spirit of atonement. - He says with St. Paul: 'I rejoice in my sufferings, and fill up those - things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ in my flesh for his - body, which is the church.' Coloss. i.24. For this cause the interior - life of a passionist is rather austere. He has to rise shortly after - midnight from a bed of straw to chaunt matins and lauds, and spend some - time in meditation. He has two hours more meditation during the day, and - altogether about five hours of choir work in the twenty-four. He fasts - and abstains from flesh meat three times in the week, all the year round, - besides Lent and Advent. He is clad in a coarse black garment; wears - sandals instead of shoes; and practises other acts of penance of minor - importance. - - "This seems rather a hard life; but an ordinary constitution does not - find the least difficulty in complying with the letter of the rule. It is - withal a happy, cheerful life; for it seems the nature of penance to make - the heart of the penitent light and gladsome, 'rejoicing in suffering.'" - -The fathers are bound by these rules only when living in the houses of -their order. Outside they accommodate themselves to circumstances and take -life as they find it; not very easy, as we shall see by the experiences of -F. Ignatius. The superior has, moreover, the right to relax the rule for -those who are ill or overworked. - -At forty-seven Hon. and Rev. George Spencer entered upon this austere life. -There was little to attract human nature to the order. Four foreigners, -living in a wretched house, friendless and nearly penniless, were the -principal occupants of Aston Hall, and even this unenviable position they -had reached only after four years of labor and trial. - -The noble novice submitted to more than ordinary tests of vocation. Rank, -age, and education made him especially the object of distrust to F. -Constantine, master of novices, who knew that true kindness must turn the -rough side of discipline to a candidate for admission. - - "A day or two after his arrival he was ordered to wash down an old dirty - flight of stairs. He tucked up his sleeves and fell to using his brush, - tub, and soapsuds with as much zest and good-will as if he had been a - maid-of-all-work. Of course he was no great adept at this sort of - employment, and probably his want of skill drew down some sharp rebukes - from his overseer. Some tender-hearted religious never could forget the - sight of this venerable ecclesiastic, trying to scour the crevices and - crannies to the satisfaction of his new master. He got through it well - and took the corrections so beautifully that in a few days he was voted - to the habit." - -A little suffering there was for F. Ignatius (as we must now call him) from -homesickness and the difficulty of adapting himself to the small items of -novice discipline. Chilled feet, a hard bed, and meagre diet were not quite -easy to bear. But his hardest trial was the consideration of his -companions, who tried to spare him humiliations, and take upon themselves -works that seemed degrading for one of his standing. Austerities were soon -forgotten, but dispensations were true afflictions to one whose wish with -regard to life was ceaseless labor, and with regard to death "to die unseen -and unknown in a ditch." - -{183} - -The story of his fifteen years of religious life is beautifully told by his -biographer. Only under the restrain& of a religious role did his gifts and -virtues receive their right development. It was like a second youth, a -second training for life; undue impetuosity was restrained, zeal, -generosity, charity, tenderness, all found an object and a wise direction. -Surely never was sanctity made more attractive than in the person of the -noble and gentle F. Ignatius. Great was the rejoicing among postulants and -novices when his arrival was announced at any one of the passionist houses. -Anecdote, mirth, kind and sympathizing intercourse were in store for the -recreation wherever he appeared, clad in his coarse attire, with a brace of -rough drogget bags slung over his broad shoulders. The journey had been -made, they might be sure, in the third-class cars, "because there was no -fourth class." The spirit of holy poverty had grown to be a sort of passion -with him, only to be surpassed by his zeal for the salvation of souls. He -treated himself, and wished others to treat him, like a beggar; thankful -for any favor, but cheerfully submissive to refusal. When he had a long -journey before him, if anyone offered him a "lift" in a cart or wagon, he -gladly accepted it; if not, he was quite contented. He seldom refused a -meal when travelling, and would ask for something to eat at any house upon -the road, if necessary. At home he generally washed and mended his own -clothes, and when he was superior would allow no one to perform menial -offices for him. In dress he dreaded overnicety, and would as gladly wear a -cast-off tartan as anything else, if it did not tend to throw discredit -upon his order. For several years he wore an old mantle belonging to a -religious who had died, and only left it off at the desire of the -provincial. This was by no means his natural bent. Those who knew him as a -young man say that he would hunt through the hosiers' shops in a dozen -streets in London to find articles that could satisfy his fastidious taste. -But, to return to the pleasure which his presence in a community always -gave: - - "His visits at home were like meteor flashes, bright and beautiful, and - always made us regret that we could not enjoy his edifying company for a - longer time. Those who are much away on the external duties of the order - find the rule a little severe when they return; to Father Ignatius it - seemed a small heaven of refreshing satisfaction. His coming home was - usually announced to the community a day or two before, and all were - promising themselves rare treats from his presence among them. It was - cheering to see the porter run in beaming with joy as he announced the - glad tidings, 'Father Ignatius is come!' The exuberance of his own - delight, as he greeted first one and then another of his companions, - added to our own joy. In fact the day Father Ignatius came home almost - became a holiday by custom. Those days were; and we feel inclined to tire - our readers by expatiating on them, as if writing brought them back. - - "Whenever he arrived at one of our houses, and had a day or two to stay, - it was usual for the younger religious, such as novices and students, to - go to him, one by one, for conference. He liked this very much, and would - write to higher superiors for permission to turn off at Broadway, for - instance, on his way to London, in order to make acquaintance with the - young religious. His counsels had often a lasting effect; many who were - inclined to leave the life they had chosen remained steadfast after a - conference with him. He did not give commonplace solutions to - difficulties, but he had some peculiar phrase, some quaint axiom, some - droll piece of spirituality to apply to every little trouble that came - before him. He was specially happy in his fund of anecdote, and could - tell one, it was believed, on any subject that came before him. This - extraordinary gift of conversational power made the conferences - delightful. The novices, when they assembled for recreation, and gave - their opinions on F. Ignatius, whom many had spoken to for the first time - in their life, nearly all would conclude, 'If ever there was a saint, - he's one.' - - "It was amusing to observe how they prepared themselves for forming their - opinion. They all heard of his being a great saint, and some fancied he - would eat nothing at all for one day, and might attempt a little - vegetables on the next. One novice, in particular, had made up his mind - to this, and to his great surprise he saw Father Ignatius eat an extra - good breakfast; and when about to settle into a rash judgment, he saw the - old man preparing to walk seven miles to a railway station on the - strength of his meal. Another novice thought such a saint would never - laugh or make anyone else laugh; to his agreeable disappointment, he - found that Father Ignatius brought more cheerfulness into the recreation - than had been there for some time. -{184} - We gathered around him, by a kind of instinct, and so entertaining was he - that one felt it a mortification to be called away from the recreation - room while Father Ignatius was in it. He used to recount with peculiar - grace and fascinating wit scenes he went through in his life. There is - scarcely an anecdote in this book we have not heard him relate. He was - most ingenuous. Ask him what question you pleased, he would answer it if - he knew it. In relating an anecdote he often spoke in five or six - different tones of voices; he imitated the manner and action of those he - knew to such perfection that laughter had to pass into admiration. He - seldom laughed outright, and even if he did he would very soon stop. If - he came across a number of Punch, he ran over some of the sketches at - once and then he would be observed to stop, laugh, and lay it down at - once as if to deny himself further enjoyment. It is needless to say there - was nothing rollicking or off-handed in his wit--never; it was subdued, - sweet, delicate, and lively. ... In fact, a recreation presided over by - Father Ignatius was the most innocent and gladsome one could imagine. - - "In one thing Father Ignatius did not go against anticipation, he was - most exact in the observance of our rules. He would always be the first - in for midnight office. Many a time the younger portion of the community - used to make arrangements over night to be in before him, but it was no - use. Once, indeed, a student arrived in choir before him, and Father - Ignatius appeared so crestfallen at being beaten that the student would - never be in before him again, and would delay on the way if he thought - Father Ignatius had not yet passed. He seemed particularly happy when he - could light the lamps or gas for matins. He was child-like in his - obedience. He would not transgress the most trifling regulation. It was - usual with him to say, 'I cannot understand those persons who say, Oh! I - am all right if I get to purgatory. We should be more generous with - Almighty God. I don't intend to go to purgatory, and if I do I must know - what for.' 'But, Father Ignatius,' a father would say, 'we fall into so - many imperfections that it seems presumptuous to attempt to escape scot - free.' 'Well,' he would reply, 'nothing can send us to purgatory but a - wilful, venial sin, and may the Lord preserve us from such a thing as - that; a religious ought to die before being guilty of the least wilful - fault.'" - -In the year 1850, Father Ignatius made the resolution of never being idle a -moment, and carried it out to the end of his life. Bergamo's Pensieri ed -Affetti he translated in railway stations while waiting for trains, before -and after dinner, and in intervals between confessions. Of letter-writing -he made a kind of duty, and on one occasion he wrote seventy-eight in the -course of two free days. Not mere notes, either, were his letters, but -epistles full of thought and sympathy for his correspondent. - - "His days were indeed full days, and he scarcely ever went to bed until - he had shaken himself out of nodding asleep over his table three or four - times. No one ever heard him say that he was tired and required rest; - rest he never had, except on his hard bed or in his quiet grave. If any - man ever ate his bread in the sweat of his brow, it was Father Ignatius - of St. Paul, the ever-toiling passionist." - -Illness, unless it kept him in his bed, never interfered with the -performance of his duties. When superior, he used his power to secure the -hardest work for himself. During the time of his rectorship in Sutton, he -would preach and sing mass after hearing confessions all the morning; -attend sick calls, preach in the evening at some distant parish, come home -perhaps at eleven o'clock, say his office, and be the first to come to -matins at two o'clock. The Father Provincial found him so ingenious in -eluding privileges that he placed him under obedience in matters of health -to one of the priests of his community, whom he strictly obeyed ever after. - -Once a cramp or some accident had made him fall into a ditch where he got -drenched and covered with mud. On returning from the sick call which he was -attending, he found a friend at the house, who sympathized with his -especial interests. Down he sat for a good talk upon the conversion of -England, and at the end of two hours was frightened off by one of the -religious to change his clothes. - -When giving a retreat somewhere in midwinter, the shameful carelessness of -his entertainers allowed him to sleep in a room where there was neither bed -nor fire, and where the snow drifted in under the door. In the morning it -occurred to some one that perhaps Father Ignatius had occupied this -apartment. -{185} -"A person ran down to see, and there was the old saint amusing himself by -gathering up the snow that came into his room, and making little balls of -it for kitten to run after. The kitten and himself seem to have become -friends by having slept together in his rug the night before, and both were -disappointed by the intrusion of the wandering visitor." - -But though the good passionist was utterly forgetful of his "own rights," -as the saying goes, he well knew how to administer a rebuke if justice -demanded it: - - "Once he was fiercely abused when begging, and as the reviler came to a - full stop in his froward speech, Father Ignatius quietly retorted: 'Well, - as you have been so generous to me personally, perhaps you would be so - kind as to give me something now for my community.' This had a remarkable - effect. It procured him a handsome offering then, as well as many others - ever since." - -On another occasion his knock was answered by a very superb footman. Father -Ignatius gave his errand and religious name, with a request to see the lady -or gentleman of the house. The servant returned in a moment with the -information that the gentleman was out and the lady engaged and also unable -to help him. "Perhaps she is not aware that I am the Honorable Mr. -Spencer," said the mendicant. Mercury bowed courteously and retired. In a -minute or two came a rustling of silks and the sound of quick steps -tripping down stairs. The lady entered with blush and courtesy and apology. -She had not known that it was he, and there were so many impostors. "But -what will you take, my dear sir?" she exclaimed, ringing the bell, before -he could accept or decline the proposal. Father Ignatius said that he did -not stand in need of anything to eat, and that he never took wine; but that -he was in need of money for a good purpose, and would be glad to accept -anything that she could give him of that kind. The lady instantly handed -him a five-pound note, with many regrets that she could not make it more. -He took the note, and, folding it carefully away in his pocket, made his -acknowledgments after this fashion: "Now, I am very sorry to have to tell -you that the alms you have given me will do you very little good. If I had -not been born of a noble family, you would have turned me away with -coldness and contempt. I take the money because it will be as useful to me -as if it were given from a good motive; but I would advise you for the -future, if you have any regard for your soul, to let the love of God, and -not human respect, prompt your almsgiving." Then taking his hat, he bade -his amazed benefactress good morning, and left her to meditate upon purity -of intention. - -Notwithstanding his fortitude and independence of spirit, we may gather -from the following extract from his letters that begging cost him some -effort: - - "My present life is pleasant when money comes kindly; but when I get - refused or walk a long way and find everyone out, it is a bit mortifying. - That is best gain for me I suppose, though not what I am travelling for. - ... I should not have had the time this morning to write to you had it - not been for a disappointment in meeting a young man, who was to have - been my begging guide for part of the day; and so I had to come home and - stay until it is time to go and try my fortune in the enormous - market-house, where there are innumerable stalls with poultry, eggs, - fruit, meat, etc., kept in great part by Irishmen and women, on whom I - have to-day presently to go and dance attendance, as this is the great - market-day. I feel when going out on a job like this, as a poor child - going in a bathing machine to be dipped in the sea, _frissonnant_; - but the Irish are so good-natured and generous that they generally make - the work among them full of pleasure when once I am in it." - -These expeditions extended not only through Great Britain, but even to the -Continent sometimes. As he was passing through Cologne one day, he met his -brother Frederick, then Earl Spencer. At first his lordship looked -wonderingly at him, and then, recognizing his features, exclaimed: "Hilloa, -George, what are you doing here?" "Begging," was the prompt reply, and then -the two fell into a friendly chat about old times. - -{186} - -Strangely enough, the only member of the Spencer family who ever treated -Father Ignatius with the least harshness was this favorite brother, who, on -succeeding to the title, laid such conditions upon his visiting the family -estate that priestly dignity forbade his going home. "Twelve years have I -been an exile from Althorp," he said in 1857. But in that same year the -earl relented and invited his brother to make him a visit. The letter -joyfully accepting this tardy invitation was read by Lord Spencer upon his -death-bed. This bereavement was a grievous blow to Father Ignatius. - -In 1862 he visited Althorp. The present earl carried out his father's good -resolutions to the utmost, and even restored a part of the annuity which -had been diverted from Father Ignatius to other objects. Before leaving the -community for this visit the religious saw him looking for a lock for one -of his bags, and asked why he was so very particular all at once. "Why, -don't you know," said he, "that the servant at the big house will open it, -in order to put my shaving tackle, brush, and so forth, in their proper -places? and I should not like to have a general stare at my beads, sandals, -and habit." But fashions had changed at Althorp. When the company who had -been invited, especially in his honor, went to dress for dinner, Father -Ignatius remarked to the countess that his full dress would perhaps, not be -quite in place at the table. "On the contrary," she answered, -good-humoredly, "all his old friends would be delighted to see a specimen -of the fashions he had adopted since his old days of whist and repartee in -the same hall." The volunteers were entertained by the earl during his -uncle's visit. The passionist appeared in full costume, and sat next Lord -Spencer, whom nothing would satisfy but a speech from the old man's lips. A -very patriotic speech it was too, and greeted by a cheer that gave pleasure -to both uncle and nephew. - -And so one of the crosses of his life was gently removed, leaving many -others, however, to be endured. For a heart so tender, a conscience so -sensitive, a temperament so vivid and excitable as his, the world had many -trials. His simplicity was mistaken for egotism; his zeal looked to many -persons like unbridled impetuosity; his broad sympathies again seemed like -indifferentism, and even calumny dared to attack his spotless character. - -All this he bore very patiently, but the suffering was often acute. A deep -abstraction of manner would come over him at such times, making him quite -unconscious of his own actions and of the impression they made upon those -around him. One day when he was going through the streets of Rome with a -brother religious, they passed a fountain. "He went over and put his hand -so far into one of the jets that he squirted the water over a number of -poor persons who were basking in in the sun a few steps beneath him. They -made a stir, and uttered a few oaths as the water kept dashing down on -them. The companion awoke Father Ignatius out of his reverie, and so -unconscious did he seem of the disturbance he had unwittingly created, that -he passed on without alluding to it." - -But whoever might blame Father Ignatius for his projects and his peculiar -pertinacity in carrying them into execution, one consoler never failed him. -The Holy Father was ever ready to speak with him of the conversion of -England, merely requesting him to endeavor to interest persons to pray also -for all those separated from the faith in all countries. His Holiness has -granted an indulgence of three hundred days to any one who shall say a -devout prayer for the conversion of England. The preaching of Father -Ignatius was peculiar to himself; he could not be said to possess the gifts -of human eloquence in the highest degree, but there was something like -inspiration in his most commonplace discourse. -{187} -He put the point of his sermon clearly before his audience, and he proved -it most admirably. His acquaintance with the Scriptures was something -marvellous; not only could he quote texts in support of doctrines, but be -applied the facts of the sacred volume in such a happy why, with such a -flood of new ideas, that one would imagine he lived in the midst of them, -or had been told by the sacred writers what they were intended for. Besides -this, he brought a fund of illustrations to carry conviction through the -mind. His illustrations were taken from every phase of life and every kind -of employment; persons listening to him always found the peculiar gist of -his discourse carried into their very homestead; nay, the objections they -themselves were prepared to advance against it were answered before they -could have been thought out. To add to this, there was an earnestness in -his manner that made you see his whole soul, as it were, bent upon your -spiritual good. His holiness of life, which report published before -him--and one look was enough to convince you of its being true--compelled -you to set a value on what he said far above the dicta of ordinary priests. - -His style was formed on the gospel. He loved the parables and the similes -of our Lord, and rightly judged that the style of his divine Master was the -most worthy of imitation. So far as the matter of his discourses was -concerned, he was inimitable; his manner was peculiar to himself, deeply -earnest and touching. He abstained from the rousing, thundering style, and -his attempts that way to suit the taste and thus work upon the convictions -of certain congregations, showed him that his forte did not lie there. The -consequence was, that when the words of what he jocosely termed a "crack" -preacher would die with the sound of his own voice or the exclamations of -the multitude, Father Ignatius's words lived with their lives, and helped -them to bear trials that came thirty years after they had heard him. Toward -the end of his life he became rather tiresome to those who knew not his -spirit; but it was the tiresomeness of St. John the Evangelist. We are told -that "the disciple whom Jesus loved" used to be carried in his old age -before the people, and that his only sermon was "My little children, love -one another." He preached no more and no less, but kept perpetually -repeating these few words. Father Ignatius, in like manner, was continually -repeating "the conversion of England." No matter what the subject of his -sermon was he brought this in. He told us often that it became a second -nature with him; that he could not quit thinking or speaking of it even if -he tried, and believed he could speak for ten days consecutively on the -conversion of England without having to repeat an idea. - -"He got on very well in the missions: he took all the different parts as -they were assigned him; but he was more successful in the lectures than in -the great sermons of the evening. His confessional was always besieged with -penitents, and he never spared himself." - -His last mission was given in the beautiful little church of St. Patrick, -Coatbridge (eight miles from Glasgow). Crowds came to hear the saintly old -father plead for the conversion of England and the sanctification of -Ireland. The first two days he heard confessions from six A.M. to eleven -P.M., excepting the time needed for devotions and meals. On the third day -he remained in the confessional until after midnight. When he came into the -house, his host said: "I am afraid, Father Ignatius, you are overexerting -yourself, and that you must feel tired and fatigued:' "No, no," he answered -with a smile, "I am not fatigued. There is no use in saying I am tired, -for, you know, I must be at the same work to-night in Leith." He was in the -confessional again at six o'clock in the morning, said mass at seven; -breakfasted at half-past eight, and left Coatbridge about nine o'clock. -{188} -Father O'Keefe remarked to him that he looked much better and younger in -secular dress than in his habit. This made him laugh heartily. "When Father -Thomas Doyle," he replied, "saw me in secular dress, he said, 'Father -Ignatius, you look like a broken-down old gentleman.'" And the frankness of -the observation seemed to amuse him immensely. - -The rest is easily told. He reached Carstairs Junction at half-past ten, -and, leaving his luggage with the station-master, walked toward Carstairs -House, the residence of his friend and godson, Mr. Monteith. Half a mile -from the entrance to the estate, the long avenue is crossed at right angles -by a second, which leads to the grand entrance of the house. Father -Ignatius had just passed the "rectangle," when he turned off into a -by-path. Then seeing he had lost his way, he asked a child which was the -right road. He never spoke to mortal again. On a little corner in the -avenue, just within sight of the house, and about a hundred paces from the -door, he fell suddenly and yielded up his spirit into the hands of his -Creator. May we all die doing God's work, and as well prepared as Father -Ignatius of St. Paul! "It was God's will that angels instead of men should -surround his lonely bed of death." It was simply by an after-thought that -he had gone to Carstairs House to pass the time between the arrival and -departure of two trains, and thus died at the threshold of an old friend's -door, instead of in the station. - -Very tenderly did Mr. Monteith receive the weary burden that the grand old -missionary laid down at his gates. The remains lay in religious state at -Carstairs House for the greater part of three days. Fathers came from -various retreats to look once more upon his beloved face, never so noble as -in its last repose; and looked with silent wonder on all that now remained -of one whom the world was not worthy of possessing longer. Everyone, on -hearing of his death, appeared to have lost a special friend; no one could -lament, for they felt that he was happy; few could pray for him, because -they were more inclined to ask his intercession. The greatest respect and -attention were shown by the railway officials all along the route, and -special ordinances were made in deference to the respected burden that was -carried. - -Lord Spencer's letter with regard to his uncle's death is so pleasing that -we transcribe it entire. He was in Denmark, and could not reach England for -the obsequies: - - Denmark, Oct. 16th, 1864 - Rev. Sir: I was much shocked to hear of the death of my excellent Uncle - George. I received the sad intelligence last Sunday, and subsequently - received the letter which you had the goodness to write to me. My absence - from England prevented my doing what I should have wished to have done, - to have attended to the grave the remains of my uncle, if it had been so - permitted by your order. - - I assure you that, much as I may have differed from my uncle on points of - doctrine, no one could have admired more than I did the beautiful - simplicity, earnest religion, and faith of my uncle. For his God he - renounced all the pleasures of the world; his death, sad as it is to us, - was, as his life, apart from the world, but with God. - - His family will respect his memory as much as I am sure you and the - brethren of his order do. - - I should be much obliged to you if you let me know the particulars of the - last days of his life, and also where he is buried, as I should like to - place them among family records at Althorp. - - I venture to trouble you with these questions, as I suppose you will be - able to furnish them better than anyone else. - - Yours faithfully, - Spencer. - -Thus in the end did Father Ignatius, in the simple pursuance of his duties, -pierce through the prejudices of caste and tradition, harder to penetrate -in England than elsewhere. - -Mr. Monteith has erected a cross on the corner of the avenue where his -saintly friend fell. It bears this inscription: - - "On this spot the Hon. and Rev. GEORGE SPENCER, - in religion, Father Ignatius of St. Paul, - Passionist, while in the midst of his labors - for the salvation or souls, and the - restoration of his countrymen to the - unity of the faith, was suddenly - called by his heavenly Master - to his eternal home. - October 1st, 1864. - R. I. P." - --------- - -{189} - - From Chambers's Journal. - - A Naturalist's Home. - - -There is no place like England for a rich man to live in exactly as he -pleases. It is the appropriate exercising-ground for the hobbies of all -mankind. You may join an Agapemone, or you may live alone in dirt and -squalor, and call yourself a hermit. The whim of the late Charles Waterton, -naturalist, was a very innocent one, namely, to make his home a city of -refuge for all persecuted birds--a sanctuary inviolate from net and snare -and gun; and he effected his humane purpose. An intimate associate and -fervent admirer of his, one Dr. Richard Hobson, has given to the world -[Footnote 44] an account of this ornithological asylum; and it is certainly -very curious. The name of the place was Walton Hall, near Wakefield; and it -seems to have been peculiarly well adapted for the purpose to which it was -put. It was situated on an island, approachable only by an iron -foot-bridge, and having no other dwellings in its immediate neighborhood. -The lake in which it stood gave the means of harboring waterfowl of all -kinds, while the "packing" of carrion crows in the park exhibits a proof of -the protection afforded by even the mainland portion of the estate; it was -sufficiently extensive to allow of portions being devoted to absolute -seclusion, for those birds which are naturally disposed to avoid the haunts -of man. "Two thirds of the lake, with its adjacent wood and pasture land, -were kept free from all intrusion whatever for six successive months every -year; even visitors at the house, of whatever rank, being 'warned off' -those portions set apart for natural history purposes. Even the marsh -occupied by the herons was forbidden ground throughout the whole -breeding-season, unless in case of accident to a young heron by falling -from its nest; in which case aid was afforded with all the promptitude -exhibited by the fire escape conductors for the safety of human life." - - [Footnote 44: Charles Waterton: his Home, Habits, and Handiwork. By - Richard Hobson, M.D.] - -The surroundings of the mansion itself were quaint and exceptional, -exhibiting the eccentric character of their proprietor. Item, a magnificent -sundial--constructed, however, by a common mason in the -neighborhood--composed of twenty equilateral triangles, so disposed as to -form a similar number of individual dials, ten of which, whenever the sun -shone, and whatever its altitude, were faithful timekeepers. On these dials -were engraved the names of cities in all parts of the globe, placed in -accordance with their different degrees of longitude, so that the solar -time of each could be simultaneously ascertained. Near this sundial was a -subterraneous passage leading to two boat-houses, entirely concealed under -the island, furnished with arched roofs lined with zinc-plate, and -arrangements for slinging the boats out of water when they required -painting or repair. Four sycamores, with roosting branches for peahens, and -a fifth, whose decayed trunk was always occupied by jackdaws, screened the -house from the north winds. Close to the cast-iron-bridge entrance was a -ruin, on the top of whose gable, at the foot of a stone-cross, twenty-four -feet above the lake, a wild duck built her nest, and hatched her young for -years. A great yew-fence enclosed this ruin on one side, so that within its -barrier birds might find a secure place for building their nests and -incubation. -{190} -For the special encouragement and protection of the starling and the -jackdaw, there was erected within this fence a thirteen feet high -stone-and-mortar-built tower, pierced with about sixty resting-berths. To -each berth there was an aperture of about five inches square. A few, near -the top, were set apart for the jackdaw and the white owl. The remaining -number were each supplied at the entrance with a square loose stone, having -one of its inferior angles cut away, so that the starling could enter, but -the jackdaw and owl were excluded. The landlord of these convenient -tenements only reserved to himself the privilege of inspection, which he -could always effect by removing the loose stone. - -The lake had an artificial underground sluice, which issuing out at a -little distance into sight, furnished the means of cultivating a knowledge -of the mysterious habits of the water-rat; this stream then passed through -one of the loveliest grottoes in England. Near this place were two -pheasantries, the central portion of each consisting of a clump of -yew-trees, while the whole mass was surrounded by an impenetrable holly -fence; the stable-yard was not far off; and hence the squire had infinite -opportunities of establishing the important fact, as he considered it, that -the game-cock always claps his wings and crows, whereas the cock-pheasant -always crows and claps his wings. Mr. Waterton's interest in natural -history was, however, by no means confined to the animal creation. He -concerned himself greatly with the culture of trees (though by no means of -land), and hailed any _lusus naturae_ that occurred in his grounds as -other men welcomed the birth of a son and heir. Walton Hall had at one time -its own corn-mill, and when that inconvenient necessity no longer existed, -the mill-stone was laid by in an orchard and forgotten. The diameter of -this circular stone measured five feet and a half, while its depth averaged -seven inches throughout; its central hole had a diameter of eleven inches. -By mere accident, some bird or squirrel had dropped the fruit of the -filbert tree through this hole on to the earth, and in 1812 the seedling -was seen rising up through that unwonted channel. As its trunk gradually -grew through this aperture and increased, its power to raise the ponderous -mass of stone was speculated upon by many. Would the filbert tree die in -the attempt? Would it burst the millstone? Or would it lift it? In the end, -the little filbert tree lifted the millstone, and in 1868 wore it like a -crinoline about its trunk, and Mr. Waterton used to sit upon it under the -branching shade. This extraordinary combination it was the great -naturalist's humor to liken to John Bull and the national debt. - -In no tree-fancier's grounds was there ever one tenth of the hollow trunks -which were to be found at Walton Hall; the fact being that the owner -encouraged and fostered decay for the purposes of his birds' paradise. -These trees were protected by artificial roofs in order to keep their -hollows dry, and fitted thus for the reception of any feathered couple -inclined to marry and settle. Holes were also pierced in the stems, to -afford ingress and egress; and one really would scarcely be surprised if -they had been furnished with bells for "servants" and "visitors." In an ash -tree trunk thus artificially prepared, and set apart for owls (the squire's -favorite bird), an ox-eyed titmouse took the liberty of nesting, hatching, -and maturing her young. Mr. Waterton attached a door, hung on hinges, to -exactly fit the opening in the trunk, having a hole in its inferior portion -for the passage of the titmouse. The squire would daily visit the his -little tenant, and opening the door delicately draw his hand over the back -of the sitting bird, as though to assure it of his protection. But -unfortunately, after the bird had flown, one year, a squirrel took -possession of this eligible tenement, and although every vestige of the -lining of its nest was carefully removed, no titmouse or any other bird -ever occupied it again. - -{191} - -In May, 1862, the squire pointed out to the author no less than three -birds' nests in one cavity--a jackdaw's with five eggs; a barn-owl's with -three young ones, close to which lay several dead mice and a half grown -rat, as in a larder; and, eighteen inches above the owl's nest, a -redstart's, containing six eggs! Our author deduces from this circumstance, -that in an unreclaimed state birds, although of different species, are not -disposed to quarrel; and the fact that near this "happy family" a pair of -water-hens hatched their eggs in a perfectly exposed nest, under the very -eyes of two carrion crows who occupied the first floor of the same tree--an -alder--without the least molestation, seems to confirm this view. - -In this Garden of Eden, however, all sorts of anomalous things seem to have -been done by birds. In a cleft branch of a fir tree, twenty-four feet from -the ground, a peahen built her nest, through which piece of ambition, since -falling is much easier to learn than flying, she lost all her young ones. -In the branch of an oak, twelve feet from the ground, a wild-duck nested -and brought down all her brood in safety to their natural element. A pair -of coots built their nest on the extreme end of a willow-branch closely -overhanging the water; but the weight of the materials, and especially of -the birds themselves, depressed it so that their habitation rested on the -very surface of the water, and its contents rose and fell with every -ripple; and, finally, another pair of coots, who had built their house upon -what they considered _terra firma_, found themselves altogether adrift -one stormy morning, and continued so, veering with the fickle breeze for -many days, until at last the eggs were hatched, and their young family -became independent, and could shift for themselves. All these minutiae were -carefully watched by the squire. An excellent telescope enabled him to -perceive from his drawing-room window the manoeuvres of both land and water -fowls. "You could carefully scrutinize their form, their color, their -plumage, the color of their legs, the precise form and hue of their -mandibles, and not unfrequently even the color of the iris of the eye: also -their mode of walking, of swimming, and of resting. You could distinctly -ascertain the various kinds of food on which they lived and fed their -young. .... You could see the herons, the water-hens, the coots, the -Egyptian and the Canada geese, the carrion crows, the ringdoves -(occasionally on their nests), the wild-duck, teal, and widgeon." No less -than eighty-nine descriptions of land-bird and thirty of water-fowl -sojourned in the grounds or about the lake of Walton Hall. In winter, when -the lake was frozen, it was literally a fact that the ice could sometimes -not be discerned, it was so crowded by the thousands of water-fowl that -huddled together upon it without sound or motion. - -Mr. Waterton, it may be easily imagined, was himself no sportsman; but it -was his custom to supply his own table on a fast-day (he was a Roman -Catholic) with fish shot by himself with a bow and arrow. Otherwise, he -made war on no living creature, except the rat: the "Hanoverian" rat, as he -designated him with bitterness: and even him he preferred to exile rather -than destroy. But having caught a fine specimen of the "Hanoverian" in a -"harmless trap," he carefully smeared him over with tar, and let him -depart. This astonished and highly scented animal immediately scoured all -the rat-passages, and thus impregnated them with the odor of all others -most offensive to his brethren, who fled by hundreds in the night across -the narrow portion of the lake, and were no more seen. The squire was -indeed a most tolerant and tender-hearted man. He built a shelter upon a -certain part of the lake expressly for poor folks, who were permitted to -fish whether for purposes of sale or for their own dinners; and -notwithstanding that it was his custom to dress like a miser and a -scarecrow, and to live like an ascetic--sleeping upon bare boards with a -hollowed piece of wood for a pillow, and fasting much longer than was good -for him--he was very charitable and open-handed to others. - -{192} - -It must be confessed, however, we gather from this volume that the great -naturalist was, out of his profession, by no means a wise man, and -certainly not a witty one. He loved jokes of a schoolboy sort, and indulged -in sarcasms more practical than theoretical. The two knockers of his -front-door were cast, from bell-metal, in the similitude of human faces, -the one representing mirth, and the other misery. The former was immovably -fixed to the door, and seemed to grin with delight at your fruitless -efforts to raise it; the latter appeared to suffer agonies from the blows -you inflicted on it. In the vestibule was a singularly conceived model of a -nightmare, with a human face, grinning and showing the tusks of a wild -boar, the hands of a man, Satanic horns, elephant's ears, bat's wings, one -cloven foot, one eagle's talon, and with the tail of a serpent; beneath it -was the following motto: - - "Assidens praecordiis - Pavore soinnos auferam." [Footnote 45] - - [Footnote 45: Sitting on the region of the heart, - I take away sleep by fear.] - -It was his humor, more than once, when between seventy and eighty years of -age, to welcome the author, when he came to dinner, by hiding on all-fours -under the hall-table, and pretending to be a doll. He made use of his -wonderful taxidermic talents to represent many individuals who took a -leading part in the Reformation by loathsome objects from the animal and -vegetable creation, and completed the artistic group with a sprinkling of -"composite" demons. He was seriously vexed at a stranger under his own -roof, who had profanely designated his favorite (stuffed) Bahia toad as "an -ugly brute." These and similar instances of bad taste we think Dr. Hobson -might have left unrecorded with advantage. Still, there was much to like as -well as to admire about the great naturalist. He could show good taste as -well as bad. No museum of natural history elsewhere could compare with the -beauty and finish of the specimens, prepared by the squire's own hand with -wonderful skill and patience, which adorned the inside of Walton Hall. "Not -even _living_ nature," says our author, "could surpass the -representations there displayed." In attitude, you had life itself; in -plumage, the lustrous beauty that death could not dim; "in anatomy, every -local prominence, every depression, every curve, nay, the slightest -elevation or depression of each feather." The great staircase glowed with -tropic splendor. At the top of it was the veritable cayman mentioned in the -Wanderings, on which the squire mounted in Essequibo, and a huge snake with -which he contended in single combat. Doubts have been thrown on both these -feats, but Dr. Hobson relates instances of presence of mind and courage -shown by the squire in his own presence quite as marvellous as these. -Wishing to make experiment as to whether his Woorali poison, obtained in -1812 from the Macoushi Indians, was more efficacious than the bite of the -rattlesnake, he got an American showman to bring him twenty-four of these -dangerous reptiles, and took them out of their cases, one by one, with his -own hand, while the Yankee fled from the room in terror, accompanied by -very many members of the faculty, who had assembled to witness the -operation. In his old age, he alone could be found to enter the cage of the -Borneo orangoutang at the Zoological Gardens, in order minutely to inspect -the palm of its hand during life, and also the teeth. It was with -difficulty he obtained permission to run this hazard, the keepers insisting -upon it that the beast would "make very short work of him." However, -nothing daunted, the squire entered the palisaded enclosure. -{193} -"The meeting of these two celebrities was clearly a case of love at first -sight, as the strangers embraced most affectionately, kissing one another -many times, to the great amusement of the spectators. The squire's -investigations were freely permitted, and his fingers allowed to enter his -jaws; his apeship then claimed a similar privilege, which was as -courteously granted; after which the orang-outang began an elaborate -_search_ of the squire's head." - -The strength and activity of Waterton were equal to his physical courage, -notwithstanding that he was wont to indulge in venesection to a dangerous -extent, always performing that operation himself, even to the subsequent -bandaging. At eighty-one, the suppleness of his limbs was marvellous; and -at seventy-seven years of age our author was witness to his scratching the -back part of his head with the toe of his right foot! Death, however, -claimed his rights at last in the squire's eighty-third year. - -Charles Waterton lies buried in a secluded part of his own beautiful -domain, at the foot of a little cross, with this inscription, written by -himself: - - Orate - Pro anima Caroll Waterton, - Viatoris: - Cujus jam fessa - Juxta hanc crucem - Hic sepelluntur ossa. - -Even those iron limbs of his, it seems, grew weary at last. - - ------- - - Original. - - - My Tears in Sleep. - - - "And He said: Weep not; the maid is not dead, but sleepeth." - - - "Whence come these tears upon thy face? - What sorrow craved these scalding drops of woe - In peaceful sleep? - Didst dream of pain or dire disgrace? - Sob not so bitterly. I fain would know - What made thee weep!" - - "Not for the woes which life may bring-- - The life, in sooth, that doth just now begin-- - These tears were shed. - But memory hath a bitter sting, - And dreaming bade me mourn the time of sin - When I was dead." - --------- - -{194} - - - Translated from the French. - - Robert; or, The Influence of a Good Mother. - - Chapter X. - - - "O Rome, Mistress of the world, - red with the blood or martyrs, - white with the innocence of virgins, - we salute and bless thee in all ages, and forever." - - -The first real stopping-place Robert made under the cloudless sky of Italy -was at Milan, and its magnificent cathedral was the first place visited. -This church, after St. Peter's at Rome, is the finest in Italy, and is -built of pure white marble. There are few Gothic edifices so rich in -ornament, or of so light and airy an appearance. His next visit was to one -of the old Dominican convents, named Sainte Marie des Graces, where he saw -"The Last Supper" of Leonardo da Vinci, one of the great Italian painters -and the _protégé_ of François I. - -The ancient capital of Lombardy does not present a very agreeable -appearance, notwithstanding its numerous palaces, which is owing to the -arrangement of the streets, which are so long and narrow that nothing shows -its real magnificence, not even the cathedral. The memory of Eugene -Beauharnais is always dear here, where as the delegate of Napoleon he -exercised sovereign power, and Robert saw with pleasure that the glory and -benefits of the one and the wise conduct of the other were not effaced from -the hearts of the Milanese. From Milan he went to Parma, where he saw a -number of choice paintings by Correggio, Lanfranc, and Mazzola, and at the -cathedral the magnificent fresco of the Assumption; at the church of Saint -Sepulchre, the Madonna and Child. He also visited the Farnese gallery, and -the tomb of this family in the church of the Madonna Steceata. From Parma -he went to Genoa, surnamed the superb. This rich city is the rival of -Venice, and is proud of her antiquities, and the power she has always held -on the seas. She has almost entire the schools of Michael Angelo and -Bernini, and has a prodigious number of paintings and sculptures. Thus was -Robert obliged at each step to stop and pay his tribute of admiration to -what be saw. And Genoa has produced so many distinguished artists that for -a long time science and art have flourished there and acquired a high -degree of renown. Robert passed three months of study there, which was -longer than he intended, as he was burning with a desire to get to Rome, -for it was there that he intended seriously to open his studies, but he -could not resist the charm which held him in first one, then another place. -From Genoa he sailed for Leghorn, and from there to Florence, which all -travellers unite in considering one of the most beautiful of Italian -cities. It is situated at the foot of the Apennines, and the number of its -gardens and their beauty, its public squares, ornamented with fountains and -statues, the shores of the Arno, with their charming quays, and the -grandeur of the palaces, designed and embellished by Sanzio and Buonarroti, -its smiling suburbs, and the brilliant titles of its citizens, combine to -make it a most attractive place. Its largest gallery was commenced by -Cardinal Leopold de Medicis, and is built in two parallel galleries, and at -their end a third is placed, which stands on the right bank of the Arno. -Here are classed in perfect order the master works of modern art. -{195} -If the name of Medicis has odious remembrances in France since the massacre -of Saint Bartholomew, it is not so in Florence or any part of Italy; on the -contrary, it recalls there all that is most dazzling and generous in -literature, art, and science. Talent always finds an asylum and a welcome -in Florence, and Robert was favorably received by the persons to whom he -had been recommended by his master, who, more for his genuine affection for -him than for the honor of having such a pupil, had given him letters to men -of high positions. What could be a more powerful stimulant for him than the -flattering encouragement he received from persons of known taste and hearty -appreciation? Believing that nothing that we wish to accomplish is -impossible, Robert, with increased passion for his art, studied the old -masters with determined energy, though never daring to hope he could -approach their perfection. Mediocrity is always vain and boastful, while -true merit is modest and mistrustful, and this was why Robert was ignorant -of his wonderful talent. He left Florence with many regrets both as a man -and an artist, but Rome was the crowning glory of his ambition, and he must -go on. In passing through the gates of the sacred city be felt an emotion -that it would be impossible to express; for the soul of the artist and the -Christian were equally moved, and in his enthusiasm he cried with Tasso: -"It is not to thy proud columns, thy arches of triumph, or thy baths, that -I come to render homage; it is to the blood of martyrs shed for Christ on -this consecrated ground!" At last he was really in Rome, whose walls -enclose so many scattered leaves of the history of all nations, and the -very name of which fills us with reverence. On the mutilated fragments here -and there, and on the wrecks of past greatness, the artist deplored the too -short duration of all earthly things, but the Christian reads there a -salutary lesson which told of the early and of worldly joys. In this grand -old city he settled himself and commenced to work, giving himself up with -ardor to composition as the highest and truest art. In the beginning his -ideas were not truly expressed, but still his pictures were full of talent. -He preferred working at home and did not often go to the academy, but was -aided in his studies by the advice of artists and connoisseurs. After a few -years he composed works of wonderful power, and his genius seemed to take -every turn; sometimes his conceptions were noble and sublime, then, again, -delicate and tender, every passion being rendered with fidelity. As he -became conscious of his rapid progress, the more his desire to find his -father tormented him. It was not a sentiment of pride, still less of -vengence, that made him wish it; it was the need he felt of a heart that -responded to his own. It was the voice of nature crying unto him, "Thou -hast a father; he lives, and thou dost not know him; search for him, and -throw at his feet thy love and talent; speak to him of thy mother! See the -task which is thine, now that thou art worthy of the name thou bearest." -The young painter was admitted into many distinguished houses, and learned -of his father, but could obtain no information which would put him on his -track; yet he buoyed himself up with the uncertain hope that he might meet -him in this city of repose and resignation. It is a place of sweet sojourn -for those whose fortunes are cast down, and a dear asylum for troubled -souls, the end of the artist's pilgrimage as well as that of the invalid, -the tourist, and the savant. There all misfortunes are respected and all -sufferings are consoled; and it is possible that the Count de Verceuil had -been overtaken by some of the sorrows from which no one in this world is -exempt; and surely he could not flatter himself that he would pass through -life without the chastisement that falls on the heads of the guilty! God's -patience is long-suffering, but sometimes his anger falls with a sudden -blow on the hardened sinner, and makes him cry for pardon. -{196} -The impressions made upon Robert in this city of majestic ruins and antique -monuments, and where the arts speak so noble a language, could not be other -than exalted and religious. Before so many wrecks the soul is predisposed -to pity all things here below; the projects we nourish appear so puerile, -we conceive another glory and adore God and his imperishable glory. Faith -gives to man a moment of calm in every trial, and opens to him the doors of -a blissful eternity. These stones cry aloud to all, "Passing away!" but it -is in a consoling and solemn accent, and brings down all our pity upon the -worldlings who have forgotten Jesus our divine Master, who said, "Heaven -and earth may pass away, but my words will never pass away." With the -exactitude with which he always fulfilled his promises, he knew that the -time for his return to France was drawing near, and that there were two -persons there who counted with sorrow the days which were passed far from -him. He was not ignorant of the fact that time hung heavily upon these poor -old people, and that it was difficult for them to support the long hours. -The remembrance of these friends followed him everywhere; they were near -him in his excursions through Rome, at the Colosseum, at the Capitol; day -and night he found them in his thoughts and his heart, and knew that they -were impatient for his return, and would amply repay him for the regrets he -would leave behind; and as he wished to visit Venice and remain there some -time, he bade farewell to the ancient city of the Senate of the Caesars, -now the residence of the Pope and the seat of the church militant. From -there he goes to Venice, the queen of the Adriatic. From a distance, -resting tranquilly on the surface of the sea, it resembles a number of -vessels with countless masts, but on a nearer approach the charm is broken, -and it stands boldly above the waves, revealing its wonderful beauty to the -astonished eye of the traveller. Formed of more than sixty small islands, -Venice is interspersed with canals without number, the largest of which is -in the form of an S, and divides the city into two nearly equal parts. -Everything in it has an original character, and silence reigns supreme over -the city; no vehicles, and no pavements for them to rattle on, and the -population, not being an industrious or commercial people, have nothing to -make a noise at. But the great charm to Robert was in the magnificent -palaces, nearly all of which were built by the great artists of Italy; and -the churches, rich in pictures, frescoes, statues, and bas-reliefs, -together with marble columns of rare workmanship. Before commencing his -studies he visited the principal buildings, the church of St. Mark, on the -front of which are four bronze horses, attributed to the celebrated -sculptor Lysippus; then to the ancient palace of the doge, and to see the -subterranean vaults, which are separated from the palace by the Bridge of -Sighs, and then to the Arsenal, which occupies an island almost a league in -circumference. This edifice is a citadel surrounded by high ramparts, and -guarding its entrance are two colossal antique lions brought from Athens -and Corinth. After seeing the city Robert renewed his favorite occupations, -and, as in Florence and Rome, was inspired by the models in the Venetian -galleries. Milan, Parma, Genoa, Florence, Rome, and Venice he had seen in -turn, and they had each opened to him their treasures and their teachings. -There was not a master the secret of whose genius he had not sought to -discover; there was not one of his works he had not studied in its minutest -details. Thus the object of his journey was attained, and his talent was -ripened under the generous sun of Italy. He could now go home and -consecrate the knowledge he had obtained to the glory of his art. "Only -fourteen days," he said to himself, "before I set out for France." But -_the_ event of the year was coming on, the general confusion of which -inspires the goddess Folly, and makes her ring her bells more noisily. -{197} -It puts every one in a complete vertigo, in which they think of nothing but -giddy pleasure and dancing and feasting. There is not a village which does -not take part in the rejoicings of the carnival, and it was something so -new to Robert, that he could not return to Paris without seeing and taking -part in it, an excusable curiosity in one of his age, and we will follow in -the train of this festive season, which animates everything. - - - Chapter XI. - - "What are misfortunes and despair?" - - -Toward the end of the carnival license has no limit, and each one is -eagerly drinking the cup of pleasure and rushing thoughtlessly into all -kinds of amusements. Yet there is in this _mélange_ of ranks, manners, -and customs something so fantastic and extraordinary that Robert, -unaccustomed to scenes of this kind, is perfectly confounded. He is dragged -on by the popular current, which, in its course, made a thousand circuits, -and carried him along, in spite of his wish to the contrary. He was, -perhaps, the only person who was serious in the midst of all this -nonsense--the only one who did not exchange a phrase or word with -others--the only one who did not reply to the provoking questions put him -by the laughing crowd abandoned to the freest gayety. - -As night came on, exhausted with fatigue, be returns to his hotel, and, -hearing cries not far from him, started in the direction from whence they -came. The darkness was profound, and he could scarcely distinguish what -passed him at any distance. But a few moments accustomed him to it, and, -following the cries, he found a woman struggling to release herself from a -man who was trying to drag her toward a gondola he had near. He advanced to -defend her, when a fourth person appeared and struck the man with a -poniard. He staggered and fell, uttering a horrible groan, and as Robert -went to his assistance, the man, and the woman he had avenged, disappeared, -leaving him alone to help their victim. Seeing no one near, he carried the -wounded man to the door of his hotel, and what was his surprise to find it -was Gustave de Vernanges, the son of his loved benefactress. Although he -had nothing but painful remembrances of this young man, he was not the less -sorrowfully affected in seeing the end to which his wickedness had brought -him, nor less prodigal in his care of Gustave. The more he saw that his -soul was exposed to peril, the more he desired to save his body, that both -might at last be saved. But the days of the wicked are numbered, and God -strikes them down. Woe unto them then if they are unprepared for their -doom. Gustave sank rapidly, and the physician's art could not avail. Robert -unceasingly prayed to God to give a few more days to this poor sinner, that -he might be reconciled to his Judge before appearing in his presence. He -wept with anguish when he found the shades of death were fast drawing round -him. A deep-drawn sigh was heard in the room, and the unfortunate young man -opened his eyes and looked round him. A second sigh, then a horrible groan, -and thinking he was not recognized, he articulated in a feeble voice, "Who -are you? Where am I?" - -"Be tranquil," replied Robert sweetly, "you are at the house of a friend. -You have been wounded, and, not knowing where you lived, I brought you -here. You must be perfectly calm and quiet, for your wound is dangerous. If -you have any messages to send your friends, I will faithfully execute -them." - -"Yes," replied Gustave painfully, "I feel that I am badly wounded, and -will, perhaps, die, and so young too. I have no parents, but had a number -of friends, who shared my pleasures and excited me to do foolish things, -but where are they now? Oh! it is frightful to die when one is rich and has -so much pleasure to look forward to. -{198} -Must I give up all these things, my titles, my wealth, and all, to go-- -where? I, the rich Gustave de Vernanges, must I die at twenty-seven, struck -by the hand of a common man?" - -"You must not speak so," replied Robert. "In God's hand is the life you so -much regret to give up, and, if he wills it, you will be saved; his power -and goodness are great, but you must submit yourself to his divine will, -and repent in all sincerity of heart. You are not without sin, for we are -all sinners; but ask God's pardon for them, and you will then be tranquil, -and peace of mind is necessary to health of body." - -"For what must I repent," said the troubled voice of the unhappy Gustave. -"What have I done? What are my faults? They are only what thousands of -others have done. I have amused myself, and laughed at the sorrows of my -victim. I gave them gold and rejoiced in their tears; passing my years in -feasts and follies, and never trying to dry the tears I caused. Oh!" he -cried in delirium, "I see it now through the mists of death. My mother! oh! -how I treated her! The veil falls from my eyes! Remorse! remorse! I have -sinned, and my mother that I did not love calls me now to repent. O God, my -God, pardon me!" And in his fever and on his bed of sickness and pain he -called upon his mother, whom he had killed by his wickedness, and upon God, -whom be had renounced all his life, to save him. - -The physician came in at this moment, and, looking at him, shook his head -sadly, saying to Robert that death was near, and a priest had better be -sent for to prepare him for the last change. He soon arrived, but Gustave -was in a violent delirium, and could not understand his saintly -exhortations. - -"Pray the Lord," said the man of God to Robert, "pray that he will give -this unfortunate young man enough consciousness that he may confess and -receive absolution; and may his example, my son, teach you to fly from the -vain pleasures of this world and its impure passions." - -Robert then told him of the obligations he was under to the mother of -Gustave, and how well he had known her for two years, and how he had since -been separated from her son. - -"And see," replied the man of God, "what would have been his end if God had -not made you an instrument of reconciliation between him and his Maker. He -led you near your enemy just at the moment when death struck the hardened -sinner, to make him repent. The designs of the Almighty are impenetrable, -but in their execution there is grace and pardon. Oh! let us pray, my son, -and God will give both faith and hope, and will regenerate this poor heart, -tortured by remorse." - -The venerable priest and the young painter passed several hours in prayer, -and the old man supplicated heaven with fervor for the conversion of one of -his brothers to Christ. - -Toward morning Gustave became conscious, and the persuasive and eloquent -words of the priest moved the dying heart. He comprehended his sins, the -greatness of his faults, and wept bitterly for his errors, and repented for -the fatal passions that tempted him to commit so many crimes. He confessed, -with heart-broken repentance, the many griefs he had caused his mother, and -the name of Robert was spoken with hers, and his regrets at the sorrows he -had given him. But when he commenced to avow all his follies of debauchery -and infamous seductions, vanquished by shame, and the frightful remembrance -of the hateful past, he cried out: "O God, do not pardon me, I am too -guilty!" - -"What do you say, my son?" said the priest? "You are guilty, it is true, -but have confidence in God, and you will be pardoned. He has struck you -down, to draw you more truly to himself." - -{199} - -Gustave listened attentively, and was much moved at the goodness of a God -justly irritated against him, and he felt the deepest sorrow at having been -for so long an offender against his word; but his soul, full of the most -bitter vices and most detestable wickedness, is now baptized in the waters -of repentance. The body dies, but the soul lives; the Lord has ratified in -heaven the absolution that his minister pronounced on earth. Gustave's -strength was fast failing, and he felt that he was dying. The recognition -between Robert and himself was touching, and the priest wept with joy and -regret, blessing the one who was to leave life, and also the one who -remained, to practise on earth every Christian virtue. - -"Do not let me die alone, kind father," said Gustave to the priest. "I have -lived so badly that I have need of your pious assistance to finish life -more worthily." - -The end was almost come. The physician could not retract his fatal -sentence, nor give any hope, for the wound was mortal. The blade of the -poniard had penetrated near the heart, and it was a miracle that he had -survived so long. He heard his sentence pronounced with resignation, and -accepted death as a just expiation for his sins, praying God to make it -such. He suffered some days longer, testifying by his patience and his -pious prayers the sincerity of his repentance, expiring with sentiments of -burning contrition and sorrow for his sins on his lips. Robert was grieved -to lose him so soon after his conversion and his return to virtue; and his -sad and premature end was a grave warning of the result of worldly passions -and giving way to vice, though Robert hardly needed such an example, his -chaste and pure soul had always turned with horror and aversion from the -licentiousness which beats the imagination and sullies its purity. Yet he -was always on his guard, for be knew the feebleness of human nature and the -dangers to which it is exposed, and the more he avoided the corrupting -vices of the world, the better could he resist them, for no one is so brave -in danger but that he may perish; and Gustave's death convinced him that -Christianity is the only basis on which we can build immortal happiness, to -which we all look forward after terrestrial joys lose their power of -satisfying the desire for happiness which agitates man from the cradle to -the grave, and which makes him attach such glorious hopes to religion, the -only vessel that is never wrecked and that takes us safely to the eternal -kingdom of perfect peace. - -After having rendered the last sad duties to the unfortunate Gustave, -Robert left Venice, but with very different feelings from those be promised -himself. He traversed rapidly the Venetian Lombardy kingdom, then Piedmont, -and, stopping some days at Turin, went on to Susa at the foot of Mont -Cenis. There were two other travellers crossing this mountain at the same -time, a man of about sixty years of age, and a young woman, either his wife -or daughter. Their carriage followed them at some distance, but from either -fear or curiosity they preferred going on foot or on a mule. Robert had -bowed respectfully and exchanged a few polite salutations with them, but -after that all effort to renew the conversation had been in vain, and he -had renounced the hope of making any further acquaintance with the -stranger, whose face of manly and severe beauty, though expressive of much -mental suffering, had not escaped the eye of the artist, habitually -accustomed to read all the emotions on the face. His sad countenance moved -Robert so much that he turned round several times, not simply from -compassion, but from a sentiment of irresistible and strange interest. - -A mysterious and sympathetic influence was felt by the two others, who had -certainly never seen him before; for the gentleman followed him with a -pleasure for which he could not account, and watched his light and easy -step, urging his mule on to keep near him, when the animal gives a sudden -spring and throws him into a deep ravine. - -{200} - - Chapter XII. - - "Extend to them the hand of pardon: - They have sinned, but heaven forgives!" - Lamartine. - - -Our young hero, wishing to have a view from the highest point of the -mountain, was pushing on to reach the spot from where he thought it would -be most extensive. When he had almost attained it, his foot slipped and for -a moment he lost his balance, and it was this appearance of danger that -kept the other traveller watching him, and led to his fall. But Robert was -light and active, and raised himself by holding on to the rugged sides of -the mountain and getting on a kind of plateau, when the cries, first of the -man, then the lady, and then the guide attracted his attention and made him -turn quickly. Then at great risk he leaned almost his whole body over the -side of the precipice, and saw that imminent and terrible death menaced the -man for whom his heart had conceived so much affection. The lady and the -guide were both afraid to descend, for there was nothing to hold on to but -some loose stones projecting out of the earth. The gentleman's position is -both critical and perilous, but Robert descends cautiously to his side and -assists him to climb up; and indeed it is almost a miracle that he is -saved; and with a face radiant with joy Robert receives the thanks of the -lady and the traveller, who, remarking a medallion Robert always wore, and -of which he had obtained glimpses in the vivacity of his movements, said to -him, in a trembling voice: "Where did you get that medallion, speak -quickly!" And as if the reply he would receive was a sentence of life and -death, he waited in horrible anxiety, as if his soul was suspended on the -lips of Robert. Though surprised at this question, he was too polite not to -answer without hesitation when he saw the agitation of the stranger. "This -portrait," said he, "comes from my mother; it represents--" "Oh! -pardon--the name of your mother?" eagerly interrupted the stranger. -"Stephanie Dormeuil." "But what was her other name?" Robert hesitated a -moment, then replied, "She was called Madame de Verceuil." At this answer a -dazzling fire burned in the eyes of the stranger, and he made such a quick, -impetuous movement that the cord which held the medallion was broken, and -it fell to the ground. Robert stooped to pick it up, and heard these words, -which overwhelmed him with astonishment: "O my God, the remorse I have -suffered for twenty-five years!" and fainted, but the care of the lady and -Robert soon brought back consciousness, and when he opened his eyes be -caught Robert in his arms, and cried, "Oh! thou art my son, my own Robert! -and I am thy father. Wilt thou pardon me, my son, my dear child, wilt thou -pardon me?" "What! you are my father!" cried the artist, delirious with -joy. "If you are, I must press you to my heart, which has so long called -for you and needed you. I curse you?--for what? My saintly mother did not -teach me this, but the contrary. O my God!" he said on bended knee, "you -have fulfilled my prayers, you have given me my father." It is in vain that -we can find words to express this touching scene. Robert was folded in his -father's arms, repeating in a tender voice, "My father, my father!" He -covered him with caresses and kisses, and calls his name with a joy so -expressive, and a love so profound, that the count wept bitterly, and -cried, raising his eyes to heaven, "O Stephanie, what noble vengeance thou -hast given me!" Then gazing on his son, he was filled with pride at seeing -the child whom he had lost when an infant, and found when a young man of -splendid genius and glorious intellect. He said to him, with some -embarrassment but with a lively interest, "My son, where is thy mother? -What does she now?" - -{201} - -"Alas!" said Robert, pointing to heaven, "she is there! She sees us, and -her noble soul rejoices in our happiness." - -The count understood it, his head was cast down, overwhelmed by the -bitterness of his remembrances and his remorse. Robert had seized his hand -and was pressing it affectionately, when he took the young woman and -presented her to Robert, saying: "This is thy cousin, Julia de Moranges, -who has been to me the best and most indulgent of nieces. I know you will -love each other." They shook hands with frank cordiality, but here both -filled with emotion at this strange meeting, and as this was not a -favorable place for more extended explanations, and the guides were already -impatient of so long a delay, they concluded to go on, and God knows the -most tender sentiments filled Robert's mind. Filial love had ever been his -first and strongest sentiment, and it burned in his heart with a passionate -energy that charmed the count, and made him stop each moment to embrace his -son, who had been the constant object of his regrets, for whom he had wept -so much, and whose loss was the cause of the sorrow which had brought on -premature old age. - -Arriving at the top of this mountain, which is more than 2000 feet above -the level of the sea, our travellers are on a plateau four leagues in -circumference and covered with green pasture that charms the eyes, and in -the middle of it was a large lake about thirty feet deep, filled with -several varieties of fish. - -The count was a man of extensive and varied information, and it was a -pleasure for Robert to hear him talk, so charming and attractive was his -conversation; and questioned by his son, the count related many things -concerning Mont Cenis. "There is a certain celebrity," said he, "attached -to the mountain we are crossing. Some authors pretend that Hannibal crossed -here to enter Italy, and it is certain that Augustus opened a route, that -was enlarged by Charlemagne. Thou hast before thee," added he, "the still -more recent traces of the work that Napoleon commenced, and which is truly -worthy of the great man who brought it thus far to perfection." It was not -until they were descending the mountain that the count commenced to relate -his life to his son, which we already know from his mother, but we cannot -pass over in silence his poignant regrets at the loss of such saintly and -sweet intercourse. When he looked at his son, left an orphan at twelve -years of age, with no resources but his perseverance and good conduct, and -reflected that he had come out of obscurity and made friends and a name, he -blessed the wife whom he had so cruelly injured and who had given him a -son, the glory of his white hairs and the love of his old age. But his -remorse for his treatment of his wife was nothing to the fear that his son -would refuse him his esteem and tenderness and would not consent to live -with him. But these dread thoughts could not remain long in his mind; the -respectful manner and caressing words of his son effaced them. The more he -studied the character of Robert the more he felt the need of his love and -of pleasing him, and the stronger was his desire to win the heart on which -he set so high a price. To obtain this he gave him his entire confidence, -and let him read his heart as he would an open book, and Robert saw the -remorse his guilty conduct toward his mother had caused him. It was a -painful avowal to make his son, but he had the courage; and the next day, -after Robert had related to him the principal events of his life, he drew -him to him, saying: - -"I owe to thee, my child, a history of the years I have passed far from -thee and thy mother, but it is not that I wish to make a parade of my -regrets and my sufferings, but simply to tell thee in what way God called -me to himself and to virtue." - -{202} - -"My father," said Robert, "if the recital gives you pain, if it recalls too -vividly your sorrows, do not tell me, I pray you, for I would rather you -should chase away all sadness and smile yourself to life. I know I shall -love you, and I want you to forget what you have suffered. It is not for me -to judge you, and believe me, that, no matter what you say, my respect and -love for you will always be the same." - -The count took the hand of his son, but could not reply for some moments, -then commenced thus: "If thy mother has not spoken to thee of my cruelty -and injustice toward her, and, still more, if she has rather exculpated -than accused me to thee, I owe it to her memory to avow that I alone was -the guilty one, and that she was to me, to the last moment, a model of -goodness, patience, and gentleness. She was right to leave me, for I was -then so blinded by my passions that the threat which decided her to go I -would without doubt have executed, if she had not taken the desperate part -which has turned so happily to thy advantage. I say it to my shame, I was -barbarous, wicked, and ungrateful to thy mother, and what is more frightful -is that I was so with premeditation. Incapable of controlling my temper, -and my pride wounded by the reproaches of my family, and by the railleries -of the young fools I called my friends, I carried my treatment to blows and -insults to her who gave thee birth. I know I make thee shudder and fill -thee with horror, but I have cruelly expiated these moments of passion, for -at heart I loved thy mother, and, when I reflected, I cursed my feebleness -and self-love. Unfortunately these moments were of short duration, and the -world and its attractions acted in a fatal manner on my heart, filled with -the deplorable maxims of a corrupt, irreligious, frivolous, and mocking -society. What, then, could stop me in the mad career which would soon bring -me to the abyss already yawning under my feet? Nothing, for I hardly -believed there was a God, and had none of the faith which thy mother has -planted in thy heart. I was as blind and insensate as a drunken man, who -knows neither where he is nor what he says. No curb could be put to my -passions, for I was like the brute that obeys his instincts, only more -miserable, as I had the voice of conscience to enlighten me while he is -deprived of the soul, which is the divine essence. See, then, what I was -when thy mother took thee far from me; and I was in a perfect transport of -fury when on my return to the house I leaned from the servants that thy -mother had gone, taking thee with her. At first, rage was the only passion -that possessed my soul, and it was perfectly incomprehensible to me that a -being as gentle as thy mother had ever proved herself should have the -courage to take such a step; but maternal love was stronger than all things -else to her, and when I found thy empty cradle, I wept and tore my hair in -despair. It was the first time I had really felt as if I was a father; for -when I kissed thy fresh young face, it was more from pride than from -paternal tenderness; but when I knew thou wert gone forever, my heart was -broken. I awoke at once, under the shock of this most agonizing, torturing -sorrow, and from that moment my life of expiation commenced. But I do not -date my return to God from that day, for it was a long time before my lips -uttered a prayer. I suffered more than tongue can tell in the delirious -life into which I was plunged, and which soon destroyed my health and left -me with a sickness which was long and dangerous. In my hours of suffering -and anguish you were always present to my mind, and I knew no one to whom I -could confide my sorrow, and feared to die without seeing you. Days -succeeded each other, until they became years; my despair increased and my -loneliness was horrible. -{203} -The sign of a reprobate was marked like the curse of Cain upon my brow, and -I was consuming myself in useless regrets, without having recourse to the -love and compassion of God, when a providential accident brought near me -one of those angels of charity who consecrate their lives to the care of -the sick and sorrowing. - -"A good sister of the order of St. Vincent de Paul came one day to excite -my interest in favor of the poor, and her angelic face and her tender and -persuasive voice touched me deeply. I was strangely attracted to her, and -could not help contrasting her manner with the means used by women of the -world to obtain what they desire. It was with pleasure, I might even say -joy, that I gave her my purse, and we became engaged in conversation. She -had read in my face the ravages of passion and the storms of the heart; -and, as all sorrows were familiar to her, she easily guessed those of my -soul, and forced me by her winning manner to confess to her the cause of my -sufferings. Then when she knew all, she spoke to me in a language so filled -with faith and charity that my frozen soul thawed under the warmth of her -burning words. The name of God was so eloquent in her pure mouth that -before she left me I pronounced it with faith and confidence. From this -moment I prayed, and the saintly woman came several times to finish her -work of grace. By her cares my body regained some strength, and my soul -felt all the hopes of a Christian, all the salutary truths of our sublime -religion. My repentance took the character of resignation, which gave some -calmness and tranquillity to my desolate days. I bade adieu to the world, -putting far from me its perfidious and deceitful charms, which I had before -so eagerly sought, and all the illusions which had appeared seductive and -worthy of my homage were dispelled. The veil had fallen from my eyes, and I -loved now what I had hated. Thy mother appeared to me with her virtues and -her touching simplicity and her charming candor and purity, and, now that I -was in a state to appreciate her, I could behold her no more. At this time -I lost my sister Helena, of whom thy mother has spoken to thee, and she -left a daughter, thy cousin Julia. I took her to my home and heart, but -still she did not console me for thy loss; for, good and amiable as she -was, she was not my son, and the lost happiness is what we always sigh for, -and which can never be replaced. My niece married and soon became a widow, -when she returned to me, and, finding all her efforts to diminish my -sadness without effect, she proposed our traveling. We have been all over -Europe, and everywhere I looked for you and enquired for you, for a secret -voice said to me always, 'Go on! go on! thou wilt find him.' I had already -explored Italy from one end to the other, had visited cold England, crossed -the German States, been through Spain and Portugal, when the fiery -inquietude which kept me always moving made me turn my steps a second time -toward Italy. It was doubtless a presentiment, since it was on this earth, -a thousand times blessed, that I found thee--that we met! I feel that God -as pardoned me, and my sorrows are at an end. Thou art the conciliating -angel, the treasure and consolation and the last happiness of a penitent -old man who has lost and suffered much. Oh! may thy love be the sign of the -forgiveness thy mother has sent me, and a bond of peace and felicity. But," -said the count, in a suppliant tone, in terminating this long and painful -confession, "thou wilt not leave me, Robert? thou wilt live with me, my -son? It would be too cruel to deprive me of thy presence, and, after having -found my earthly heaven, thou wilt not plunge me into the depths of hell; -for if I lose thy tenderness, I lose all." - -"My father," replied Robert, "I could not leave you. I am too happy to -possess your love to deprive myself of so sweet a joy. God has reunited us, -and we will never again separate!" - - -{204} - - - Chapter XIII. - - "Nothing can be dearer to a man - than a father he is proud of." - - -Some days after this interview, Robert, the count, and Julia were -travelling toward l'Auvergne. If the dead could feel in their cold graves, -certainly Robert's mother would have felt a deep and holy joy in seeing her -son and her husband kneeling on her tomb. But their eyes were not on the -grave, but raised toward heaven, and Robert saw the same vision which had -appeared to him in his youth, and he cried out: "I see it! O my father, I -see it! She blesses us." - -The name of Dormeuil was effaced from the modest stone, and that of -Countess de Verceuil substituted, to the great astonishment of the people -of the surrounding country. Then the count visited the little house which -had fallen in ruins, and here Robert called up a thousand tender memories, -and thanked God for the manifestation of his love in permitting him to find -his father. But it was not for the rank he would have in the world, nor for -the titles society would look upon with jealous eyes, nor for this -wonderful elevation of his talent, which dazzled and made him happy. It was -the power which God had put into his hands, to enable him to do good to -others, and the knowledge of the future of repose and comfort he could -ensure to the two objects of his early affection, good Madame Gaudin and -the old soldier of the guard. It was of them that he thought when he said. -"I am rich." How he longed to see Paris, and to be folded again to the -hearts of his friends, from whom he had so long been separated. His father, -seeing his impatience, smiled at the projects he formed for them, but was -none the less anxious to know them and thank them for the cares they had -bestowed on his son. At last they arrived, and when they reached the house -a cruel thought crossed Robert's mind, that they might be "no more." His -heart beat, and he scarcely dared to knock, but listened a moment, and--oh! -what happiness--two well-known voices fell upon his ear. One said: "Six -months have passed since his last letter, and no news of our dear child. -What can have happened him?" "You must have patience, good woman," said the -other voice, "he can't always find opportunities to write. I believe the -reason he does not write is, that be intends to come some day soon." "Ah! I -know he is not sick, and it is the faith of Cyprien says it. The Lord is -too just to make so good a boy ill." - -Completely reassured, Robert knocked and entered immediately. Two cries -came at the same time from two hearts that joy suffocated. Robert raised -Madame Gaudin in his arms; her too sudden surprise had overwhelmed her with -emotion, and Cyprien cried, "It is you, it is you!" wiping away a tear. "I -am happy, now, Mister Robert. I knew you would come back, but I have had a -time consoling this poor woman, who saw everything in blackness and -despair." - -Robert pressed the faithful soldier to his heart, then covered Madame -Gaudin with caresses, enquired for her health, and wished to know if either -of them had suffered in any way since he left them. When the confusion of -this sudden meeting had subsided a little, both Cyprien and dame Gaudin -perceived that Robert had no luggage. "Where are your effects, my child?" -said the good woman. Robert smiled, and said he had left them at home, "How -at home? And do you not intend to remain with us, my dear Robert?" "Yes, of -course, but we will live in another house, and I will take you to your new -home." She opened her astonished eyes, and followed Robert, who descended -the steps, and, calling a carriage, made his friends get in, and directed -the coachman to drive them all to No. 110, rue Grenelle, Saint Germain. - -{205} - -On the way Madame Gaudin tried to draw from him his secret, but all -attempts were useless, for he took delight now in teasing her. Stopping in -front of the hotel where his father was, he took the arm of his worthy -benefactress and conducted her to the saloon where the Count de Verceuil -waited. "Father," said he, as he entered, "here is the excellent woman who -has taken the place of a mother to me, and who for my sake generously -sacrificed all she had." "Madam," said the count with amiable courtesy, -"excuse me that I did not come for you myself, as it was my duty to do, but -I wished to allow Robert the pleasure of surprising you. You are at home -here, madam, in the house of my son, and I hope you will always be his -friend." "Your son?" she said, half stupefied. "Who, then, is your son? Ah! -I know," she cried with lively anguish, a secret sentiment of jealousy -coming into her heart; "it is Robert. God is just, and has given him this -recompense. What I have done for your son, monsieur, anyone else would have -done in my place, for no one could have helped loving so good and generous -a child. But I do not merit so much kindness at your hands. I am only a -poor creature, without either education or manners, so how can I live with -you?" "These things are of little value in my eyes, my dear madam. What I -honor in you, and what all honest and virtuous people would consider above -everything else, is the nobleness of your soul and the virtues of which you -have given so bright an example. You will give me great pain if you refuse -an offer that comes from the heart, and that I make you in my name and the -name of my son. We will live and enjoy together the favors God has been -pleased to bestow upon us. And you will be ours, my brave Cyprien" said the -count, taking the hand of the old soldier. "I know you love my son, and -this entitles you to my friendship. Will you accept it?" "Oh! yes; with all -my heart," replied Cyprien, looking affectionately at Robert, who was -watching silently the interview between his father and his friends. - -His father was kind and good, and often he blessed the day they met. -Nothing can be dearer to a man's heart than a father he is proud of. Robert -had experienced this feeling for his mother, whom he venerated almost as -much as God. She was to him the type of every virtue. His misfortunes and -affliction had entirely changed his father, and to the vain pleasures of -the world had succeeded the practices of religion and the duties of the -Christian. All the virtues he admired in his mother he found in the -paternal heart, tried in the crucible of adversity. In a word, the father -was worthy of the son as the son was worthy of the father, and a sweet -harmony reigned in this family, bound to each other by the tenderest ties. -All rank was effaced, and the noble count, the heir of a great name and an -immense fortune, and the old woman and the old soldier lived with no other -desire than to make each other happy. Robert did not give up his -profession, and his name is now illustrious in the world of art! He married -his cousin Julia de Moranges, and crowned with joy and happiness the last -days of his father, who now sleeps the sleep of the just. Thus ends our -story. We have tried to trace the struggling life of Robert, and its -glorious recompense. We have tried faithfully to reproduce his touching -virtues and the noble and beautiful sentiments that adorned his soul, and -also to inspire our young readers with a desire to imitate him. We have -tried to show the efficacious and all-powerful help of religion in -nourishing the teachings of a Christian mother, and that a good and -persevering child can overcome all obstacles. Have we, then, succeeded and -obtained your approbation? If there are among you, my dear readers, some -poor little orphans like Robert, call down the blessings of your mother -upon your heads, and, though she lives in heaven, she will watch over you -with tender solicitude, and the God of the motherless will be your sure -refuge and your final Saviour. -{206} -Think not that you can live without constant prayer to God, the author of -your beings and the giver of every good and perfect gift. Put your whole -trust and confidence in him and his mercy, and whether obscurity or fame be -yours, always remember that he knows best, and places you in whatever -position best suits you. Should he give you the transcendent gift of -genius, you must struggle hard to obtain its rewards, and, whatsoever you -do, remember to do it for the honor and glory of God and the good of -mankind; and then, when you are called to leave this life for that better -world where all cares cease, you can welcome death, which will open for you -the gate of life, and exchange with joy the changing scenes of earth for -the unfading bliss of heaven! - - ------- - - Original. - - Confiteor. - - "Confess therefore your sins - one to another."--St. James v. 16. - - By Richard Storrs Willis. - - - When to God alone I make confession, - Why, my shameful heart! so light thy task? - While so deep the shame and the emotion - When to man thou must thy guilt unmask? - - Only here we find the true abasement: - More than God we dread the eye of man! - Hence the justice that, by heaven's ordaining, - Human guilt a human eye should scan! - - Ah! how oft, by some great sin o'ermastered, - Hearts in secret pray, but all in vain! - Not till human ear has heard the story - Peace descends and Guilt can smile again! - - Thus must sin requite both earth and heaven; - Since 'gainst man the wrong as well as God! - Just amends are due the Heavenly Father-- - Due my brother of this earthly sod! - - Ye who fain would find a peace that's vanished. - Heaven demands no long, desponding search! - Seek the kind, attentive ear of Jesus, - Seek his listening human ear--the Church! - ------- - -{207} - - From The Contemporary Review. - - Mediaeval Universities. [Footnote 46] - - [Footnote 46: This article is not written by a Catholic, which the - reader will easily see from some of its expressions. With these - exceptions the article is very interesting.--C. W.] - - -Universities are not mentioned in mediaeval documents before the beginning -of the thirteenth century. At that period, however, they stand before the -eyes of the historian already fully developed, and in the very prime of -vigorous manhood, without offering any clue as to their birth and lineage, -except such as they bear visibly imprinted in their very nature. This -remark holds good only for the most ancient universities--_Paris, -Oxford_, and _Bologna_--all the other institutions of the kind -being easily traced to their foundation, and recognized as copies of the -ancient types. There are, indeed, documents extant which refer the -foundation of the three mentioned universities to a very respectable -antiquity, and according to which Paris claims Charlemagne as its founder; -Oxford, Alfred the Great; Bologna, the Emperor Theodosius II.; and Naples, -the Emperor Augustus. But these documents are each and all the fabrications -of later times, which, agreeably to mediaeval disregard of critical -investigation, could easily spring up and find credence, because they -supplied by fables what could not be gained by historic evidence, the halo -of remote antiquity. Setting, therefore, apart these spurious credentials, -we prefer to trace the lineage of our venerable institutions as near as -possible to their source by reading and interpreting the record they bear -of themselves. - -Twice during the middle ages the church saved literature from utter ruin: -first when barbarous nations overflooded Europe in the great migration, and -a second time during the confusion which arose upon the death of -Charlemagne. Science was indeed the _enfant trouvé_, to take care of -which there was no one in the wide world but the church alone. Under its -fostering care literature and learning started on a new career in the -asylums erected in the schools of abbeys, monasteries, and convents--a -career, however, characterized by a peculiar timidity, which shrank from a -critical analysis of sacred and profane literature alike--abhorring the -latter for its savor of heathenism, revering the former with too much awe -to subject it to dissecting criticism. In this narrowness of space, this -timidity of development, the youthful plant might have been stunted in its -growth, but for the breath of life which the genius of human civilization -imparted to its feeble offshoot to rear it to the full vigor of manhood. -This inspiration again proceeded from the church, which made the very -marrow of her substance over to the school, that it might feed on it and -wax strong, so as to become the bearer of mediaeval civilization, the -leader of society in science and education. At a period when the church had -given form to its doctrines by investing them in a dogmatic garb, so as to -remove them from beneath the ruder or careless touch of experimenting -heresy, faith was satisfied, and in its satisfaction felt secure from any -perilous raid on its domain. Hence, it became less timid in facing the -dissecting-knife of the philosopher; nay, on the contrary, it soon detected -the new additional strength it might derive from the disquisitions of -philosophical science; and thus it came to pass that the dogma of the -church left the bosom of the mother that gave it birth, and placed itself -under the guardianship of the school. -{208} -The result of this transmigration is but too evident. First of all, the -interest of philosophical inquiry was duly regarded by obtaining by the -side of faith its share in the cultivation of the human mind, and, on the -other hand, the dogma or symbol of faith, which hitherto had evaded the -grasp of human intellect, and therefore assumed the position of a power -which, though not hostile, was yet not friendly to the aspirations of the -human mind, now turned its most intimate and faithful ally. The motto of -this alliance between dogma and philosophy--the well-known "Credo ut -intelligam"--is the key-note of scholasticism. Thus, then, theology became -the science of the school, when the dogma was completely confirmed and -established, and the school sufficiently developed to receive it within its -precincts; and this alliance, which produced a Christian philosophy in -scholasticism, was the principal agent also in bringing about a new phase -of the mediaeval school in the _Studium Generale_ or -_University_. - -From the earliest centuries it had been a practice with the Christian -church in newly converted countries to erect schools by the side of -cathedrals. Where our Lord had his temple, science had a chapel close by. -These cathedral schools became in the course of time less exclusively -clerical, at the same rate as the chapters of cathedrals turned more -secular in their tendencies. In consequence of this metamorphosis the -cathedral school attracted a large number of secular students, while the -monastic schools more properly limited themselves to the education of the -clerical order. But for all that the cathedral school bore a decidedly -clerical character. The bishop continued to be the head of the schools in -his diocese, and through his chancellor _(cancellarius)_ exercised -over the students the same authority as over all others that stood under -episcopal jurisdiction. Very often we meet with several or many schools -connected with different churches of one and the same diocese. In this case -each school had its own "rector," but all of them were subject to the -supervision and jurisdiction of the bishop, or his representative the -chancellor. Though they followed their literary and educational pursuits -each within its own walls and independently of the others, yet on certain -occasions they were reminded of their consanguinity of birth and their -relationship to the church, when on festive celebrations, such as the feast -of the patron saint of the diocese, rectors, teachers, and students of the -different schools rallied round the banner of their diocesan, and appeared -as one body under their common head, the bishop. Thus we see the cathedral -schools brought nearer to each other by two agencies of a uniting -tendency--the jurisdiction of the bishop and their relation to the church. -That which had grown spontaneously out of the circumstances of the time -awaited only the "fiat" of the mighty to accomplish its metamorphosis, and -assume its final shape in the _Studium Generale_. The church required -an able expositor of her dogmas, a subtle defender of her canonical -presumptions, and both she found in the school. Popes then granted -privileges and immunities to the cathedral and monastic schools of certain -cities, and these schools, following the impulse and tendencies of the age, -united in corporations and became universities. Under the circumstances it -must appear a vain attempt to search for documentary evidence as to the -first foundation of the three ancient universities. We can only adduce -facts to show when and where such establishments are first mentioned, and -yet we must not draw the conclusion that universities are contemporary with -those documents which first bear direct testimony to their existence. For -we all know that in primitive ages, when new institutions are gradually -being developed, centuries may pass before the new-born child of a new -civilization is christened, and receives that name which shall bear record -of its existence to future generations. -{209} -As far back as the eleventh century, we find at _Paris_ schools -connected with the churches of _Notre Dame, St. Geneviève, St. -Victor,_ and _Petit Pont_, but it appears doubtful whether they had -been united in a _Studium Generale_ before the end of the twelfth -century. The first direct mention of a "_university_" at Paris is made -in a document of the year 1209. _Oxford_ may, in point of antiquity, -claim equality at least with Paris; and the assumption that Alfred the -Great planted there, as elsewhere, educational establishments is certainly -not without some plausibility. Concerning the existence of monastic schools -in that town previously to the twelfth century, not a doubt can be -entertained; but to refer the foundation of Oxford University to the times -of Alfred the Great is simply an anachronism. Oxford, quite as much as -Paris, or rather more so, bears in the rudimentary elements of its -constitution the unmistakable traces of its origin in the cathedral and -monastic schools. _Bologna_ was one of the most ancient law schools in -Italy. Roman law had never become quite extinct in that country; and in the -great struggles between spiritual and temporal power, ever and again -renewed since the eleventh century, it was ransacked with great eagerness -for the purpose of propping up the claims of either pope or emperor, as the -case might be. The Italian law schools, therefore, enjoyed the patronage of -powers spiritual and temporal, which raised them to the summit of fame and -prosperity, and then again dragged them to the very verge of ruin by -involving them in the struggles and consequent miseries of the two parties. -The Emperor Frederick Barbarossa well understood how to appreciate the -vantage-ground which presented itself in the codices of the ancients for -the support of imperial presumptions, and consequently he expressed his -favor and good-will to the lawyers of Italy by confirming the ancient law -school at Bologna--a confirmation which was combined with extraordinary -privileges to professors and students sojourning in that town, or engaged -on their journey there or back. Bologna may, therefore, be regarded as a -privileged school or university since the year 1158, without, however, -being such in the later acceptation of the term, that is, endowed with the -four faculties. Concerning this distinction we shall have to advance a few -remarks hereafter. - -The term university (universitas), in its ancient signification, denotes -simply a community, and may, therefore, be applied to the commune of a -city. Hence, the distinction will be evident between the expression -"_Universitas Bolognae_" and "_Universitas Studii -Bonnensis_"--the commune of Bologna, and the community of the university -of Bologna. The elder title of a university is _Studium_, a term -applied to every higher school, and supplied with the epithet -_Generale_ either from the fact of divers faculties being taught, or -students of all nations being admitted within its pale. The most -distinctive trait of the Generale Studium is manifested in the social -position it had gained as a corporate institution invested with certain -rights and privileges, like all other guilds or corporations of the middle -ages. The university was the privileged guild, the sole competent body from -which every authority and license to teach science and literature emanated. -The man upon whom it conferred its degrees was, by the very fact of gaining -such distinction, stamped as the scholar, competent to profess and teach -the liberal arts. The graduate, however, gained his social position not by -the act of promotion, but by the privileges which the governing heads of -church and state had connected with that act. Hence, it was considered an -indispensable condition that a newly erected university should be confirmed -in its statutes and privileges by the pope, the representative of the whole -community of Christians. The universities having gained a social position, -their members were henceforth not merely scholars declared as such by a -competent body of men, but they also derived social advantages which lay -beyond the reach of those who stood outside the pale of the university. - -{210} - -A short sketch of the universities erected in different European countries -after the pattern of the three parent establishments may suffice to give -our readers an idea of the zeal and emulation displayed by popes and -emperors, princes and citizens, in the promotion of learning and -civilization. - -In the year 1204 an unfortunate event befell Bologna. Several professors, -with a great number of scholars, removed from that place to _Vicenza_, -where they opened their schools. This dismemberment of the university of -Bologna must have had its cause in some--we do not learn exactly what-- -internal commotion. The secession was apparently of very little effect, for -the university of Vicenza, to which it had given rise in 1204, ceased to -exist in the year 1209, most probably in consequence of the professors and -scholars returning to the alma of Bologna as soon as this could be -opportunely done. A more detailed account has been handed down to us -concerning the secession of 1215, when Rofredo da Benevento, professor of -civil law, emigrated from Bologna to _Arezzo_, and erected his chair -in the cathedral of that city. A crowd of scholars followed the course of -the great master. From letters written by Pope Honorius between 1216 and -1220, it would appear that the citizens of Bologna, in order to prevent the -dismemberment of their university, tried to impose upon the scholars an -oath, by which they were to pledge themselves never, in any way, to further -the removal of the Studium from Bologna, or to leave that school for the -purpose of settling elsewhere. The students, however, refused to take this -oath of allegiance, a refusal in which they were justified by the pope, who -advised them rather to leave the city than undertake any engagement -prejudicial to their liberties. The result was the rise of the university -of Arezzo, where, besides the ancient schools of law, we find in the year -1255 the faculties of arts and medicine. From a similar dissension between -the citizens and scholars seems to have been caused the emigration to -_Padua_, where the secessionist professors and scholars established a -university which soon became the successful rival of Bologna. - -In the year 1222 the Emperor Frederick II., from spite to the Bolognese, -and a desire of promoting the interests of his newly erected university of -_Naples_, commanded all the students and professors at Bologna who -belonged as subjects to his Sicilian dominions to repair to Naples. The -non-Sicilian members of the Alma Bonnensis he endeavored to allure by -making them the most liberal promises. At any other time this ungenerous -stratagem might have resulted in the entire ruin of the university of -Bologna; this city, however, being a member of the powerful Lombard League, -could afford to laugh at Frederick's decrees of annihilation. As long as -its founder and benefactor was alive, the university of Naples enjoyed a -high degree of fame and excellence among the studia of Italy, for Frederick -spared neither expense nor labor in the propagation of science and -literature. - -Pope Innocent IV. erected the university of _Rome_ about the year -1250, and conferred upon it all the privileges enjoyed by other -establishments of the kind. But the praise of having raised that university -to its most flourishing condition, and endowed it with all the faculties, -is due to Pope Boniface VIII. - -Lombardy owed its literary fame to the noble Galeazzo Visconti, who formed -the design of erecting a university close to Milan which should provide for -the increased wants in science and education among the population of that -capital and the surrounding cities. -{211} -The site chosen for the purpose was _Pavia_, which had for a long time -been the resort of literati of every description who had been educated in -the neighboring university of Bologna. The new university soon acquired -great fame, enjoying the special patronage of the Emperor Charles IV. of -Germany. - -The French universities were organized after the model of Paris, but most -of them had to be contented with one or several of the faculties, exclusive -of theology, which was, and continued to be, a privileged science reserved -to Paris and a few of the more ancient universities. Thus we see that -_Orleans_, where a flourishing school of law had existed since 1284, -was provided in 1312 with the charters and privilege of of the Studium -Generale. _Montpelier_ University, according to some historians, was -founded in 1196 by Pope Urban V.; but with certainty we can trace its -famous school of medicine only as far back as the year 1221. To this was -added the faculty of law in 1230, and Nicolas IV. finally established, in -1286, the faculties of civil and canon law, medicine and arts. -_Grenoble_, _Anjou_, and a few others, though entitled to claim -the privileges of the Studium Generale, hardly ever exceeded the limits of -ordinary schools, whether in arts, law, or medicine. - -The system of centralization, which at that time had already gained the -upper hand in the church and state of France, impressed its type on social -and scientific life as well. Paris became the all-absorbing vortex which -engulfed every symptom of provincial independence; and the Alma Parisiensis -developed in her bosom, as spontaneous productions of her own body, the -colleges which were founded on so grand a scale as to outweigh in -importance all the minor universities, each college forming, so to say, a -"universitas in universitate." This observation holds good for England and -the English universities. - -Turning our attention to Germany, we find, in accordance with the social -conditions of the country, the development of academic life taking a -somewhat intermediate course between the Italian universities on the one -side, and Paris and Oxford on the other. Though emperors and territorial -princes vie with each other in the promotion of educational establishments, -Germany nevertheless bears a close resemblance to Italy in so far as in -both countries the opulent citizens are among the first to exert themselves -in the propagation of science and the diffusion of knowledge. The -university of _Prague_, founded by the Emperor Charles IV. in 1318, -was soon followed by that of _Vienna_, founded in 1365 by Albertus -Contraetus, duke of Austria, and _Heidelberg_, erected by Rupert of -the Palatinate, and confirmed by the pope in 1386. The university of -Cologne owed its origin to the exertions made by the municipal council, who -succeeded in gaining a charter from Pope Urban VI. in 1388. _Erfurt_ -also is mainly indebted to the zeal of the citizens and the town council -for its erection, which took place in 1392. _Leipzig_ was founded, in -its rudiments at least, in 1409 by the Elector Frederick I. of Saxony, but -it started into the full vigor of academic life under the impulse imparted -to it by the immigration of two thousand students, Catholic Germans, who, -to escape Hussite persecution, had departed in a body from the university -of Prague. - -Spain, which we should expect to see forward in promoting institutions of -learning, did not much avail herself of those fruits of science which had -ripened to unequalled splendor under the Arabs in the eleventh century. -Recalling, however, to mind the fearful struggles between the Christian and -Arab population, struggles which for centuries shook that country to its -very foundations, we can readily make allowance for the slow advance of -learning in this state of bellicose turmoil. Yet, in spite of these -unfavorable conditions, the schools received no inconsiderable attention -from the Christian rulers of the country. -{212} -The ancient school of _Osca_, or _Huesca_, was revived; -_Saragossa_, which is said to have been founded in 990 by Roderico à -S. AElia, began to thrive again; _Valentia_ was founded by Alphonse of -Leon, and _Salamanca_ in 1239 by Ferdinand of Castile and Leon, both -of which schools arrived at their greatest splendor and the position of -universities at the beginning of the sixteenth century, as did also those -of _Valladolid, Barcelona, Saragossa_ and _Alcala_. - -In order to give a general survey of the progress of academic -establishments in the different European countries, we subjoin a list of -all mediaeval universities, with the dates of foundation, which in doubtful -cases are accompanied by a note of interrogation. The dates of the most -ancient universities require no further remark after our previous -observations: - - England and Scotland. - - Oxford 11- - Cambridge 11- - St. Andrews 1412 - Glasgow 1451 - Aberdeen 1494 - Edinburgh 1520 - - Italy. - - Bologna 11- - Piacenza 1248 - Padua 1222 - Piza 1339 - Vercelli 1228 - Arezzo 1356 - Vicenza 1204 - Rome 1250 (?) - Naples 1224 - Fermo 1391 - Perugia 1307 - Pavia 1361 - Siena 1420 - Parma 1412 - Turin 1405 - Florence 1348 - Verona 1339 - Salerno 1250 (?) - - France. - - Paris 11- - Montpelier 1286 - Avignon 1809 (?) - Cahors 1332 - Anjou 1348 - Lyons 1300 - Grenoble 1339 - Perpignan 1340 - Poitiers 1431 - Caen 1433 - Bordeaux 1442 - Nantes 1448 - - Germany. - - Prague 1348 - Vienna 1365 - Heidelberg 1386 - Cologne 1388 - Erfurt 1392 - Leipzig 1409 - Rostock 1419 - Greifswalde 1456 - Freiburg 1457 (?) - Trier, (Treves) 1472 - Ingoldstadt 1472 - Basle 1460 - Mayence 1482 - Tübingen 1482 - Würzburg 1400 - - Spain and Portugal - - Huesca (?) - Coimbra 1279 - Lisbon 1283 - Valentia 1210 - Salamanca 1239 - Valladolid 1346 - Barcelona 1500 - Saragossa 1474 - Toledo 1499 - Alcala 508 - - Other Countries. - - Louvain 1425 - Buda 1465 - Upsala 1477 - Copenhagen 1478 - Cracow 1364 - - -Entering upon the subject of the constitution or organization of the -universities, we need hardly remind our readers that, in accordance with -the nature of their origin and with the spirit of uniformity which pervaded -the middle ages, the constitution of the different universities was -everywhere essentially the same. The university of the most ancient date -was not an exclusive school or establishment existing only for the higher -branches of erudition, but it was a system or various schools, which -chiefly aimed at the education of a competent body of teachers, a -corporation of scientific men. This purpose could be, and indeed was, -attained without splendidly endowed colleges or spacious lecture-rooms. The -university, in its first rudimentary appearance, is an ideal rather than a -reality. There are no traces of buildings exclusively appropriated to -academic purposes, but the first house or cottage or barn, if need were, -was made subservient to scientific pursuits, whenever a licensed teacher or -magister pleased to erect his throne there. Nor did the Studium Generale -confine itself to giving finishing touches of education, but it comprised -the whole sphere of development from boyhood to manhood, so that the boy -still "living under the rod" could boast of being a member of the -university with the same right as the bearded scholar of thirty or forty -years of age. The same academic privileges which were enjoyed by the -magister or doctor extended to the lowest of the "famuli" that trod in the -train of the academical _cortége_. -{213} -A _Corpus Academicum_, with its various degrees of membership, its -distinction of nations and faculties, its peculiar organization and -constitution--such are the characteristic traits of all the mediaeval -universities which we are about to examine. To the Corpus Academicum -belonged the _students_ (scholares), _bachelors_ (baccalaurei), -_licentiates, masters_ (magistri), and doctors, with the governing -heads, the proctors (procuratores), the _deans_ (decani), and the -_rector_ and _chancellor_ (cancellarius). To these were added -officials and servants of various denominations, and finally the -trades-people of the university, designated as _academic citizens_. -Every student was obliged to present himself within a certain time before -the rector of the university in order to have his name put down in the -album of the university (matricula), to be matriculated. He pledged his -word by oath to submit to the laws and statutes of the university, and to -the rector in all that is right and lawful (licitis et honestis), and to -promote the welfare of his university by every means in his power. At the -same time he had to deposit a fee in the box (archa) of the academic -community, the amount of which was fixed according to the rank of the -candidate, as it was not unusual for bishops, canons, abbots, noblemen, -doctors, and other graduates to apply for membership in some university. -After being matriculated and recognized as a member of the body, the -student had to assume the academic dress, which characterized him as such -to the world at large. The dress was identical with that of the clergy, and -from this and other incidents every member of the school was termed -_clericus_, and all the members collectively _clerus -universitatis_ whence _clericus_ (clerc) came to designate a -_scholar_, and _laicus_ a layman and a _dunce_ as well. The -wearing of secular dress was strictly prohibited, and we can appreciate the -benefit of this arrangement on considering the exorbitant fashions which -prevailed in those days, to the prejudice of propriety and the ruin of -pecuniary means. To carry arms, chiefly a kind of long sword, was a matter -allowed sometimes, more often connived at, but frequently prohibited at -times of disturbances among the scholars themselves, or during feuds with -the citizens. Against visiting gambling-houses or other places of bad -repute, passing the nights in taverns, engaging in dances or revels, or -other diversions unseemly in a "clerc," we find repeated and earnest -injunctions in the statutes of the universities. Where scholars were living -together in the same house under proper surveillance, they formed a -community known as _bursa_. Bursa originally denoted the contribution -which each scholar had to pay toward the maintenance of the community, -whence the term was applied to the community itself. The bursae had, like -inns and public-houses, their proper devices and appellations, commonly -derived from the name and character of the house-owner or _hospes_ -(host). Corresponding with the Continental bursae were the English hospitia -and aulae, or halls, which, however, may be traced to higher antiquity than -the former. It is not difficult to recognize in these institutes the germs -of the later colleges. At the head of the hospitium or bursa stood the -_conventor_, who was commonly appointed by the rector, in some places -elected by the members of the bursa, and who had to direct the course of -study, guard the morals of the students, etc. If the hospes or host was a -master or bachelor, the functions of conventor naturally devolved upon him. -The _provisor_ took charge of the victuals, watched over the purchase -and preparation of the same, and settled the pecuniary affairs with the -hospes. Discipline in the bursae and halls was rigorous and severe, and it -could not be otherwise at a time when the individual man was not restrained -by a thousand formalities and conventionalities, but allowed to develop -freely his inherent faculties and powers, often to such a degree as to -prove prejudicial to the peace of society, unless they were curbed by the -severe punishment which followed transgression. -{214} -We meet in the earliest times of the universities with but very few -systematic regulations as far as internal discipline is concerned. This was -a matter of practice, and left rather to be settled according to the -requirements of each case as it arose. Practice, again, taught the pupil a -lesson of abstemiousness and self-denial which might go far to outdo in its -effect our best text-books on moral philosophy. The convictorial houses, as -well as the university at large, were poor, being without any funds but -those which flowed from the contributions of the scholars and members of -the university. A life of toil and endurance was that of the scholar. If he -had a fire in the winter season to warm his limbs, and just sufficient food -to satisfy his gastronomic cravings, be found himself entitled to praise -his stars. The lecture-rooms did not boast of anything like luxury in the -outfitting. Some rough structure of the carpenter's making which -represented the pulpit was the only requisite piece of furniture; chairs -were not wanted, as the pupils found sitting accommodation on the floor, -which was strewn with straw or some other substance of nature's own -providing, and on which ardent disciples cowered down to listen to the -words of wisdom flowing from the lips of some celebrated master. When, at a -later period, the university of Paris went so far in fastidious innovations -as to procure wooden stools for the pupils to sit upon, the papal legates -who had come on a visitation severely censured the authorities for their -indiscretion in opening the university to the current of luxury, which -would not fail, they affirmed, to have an enervating effect on the mind and -body of the pupil; and for a time the scholars had to descend again from -the stool to the floor. Early rising was so general a habit in those days -as to make it almost superfluous to mention that the pupils had gone -through their morning worship and several lessons by the time the more -refined student of modern days is accustomed to rise. - -The lowest of academical degrees was that of _Bachelor_ -(Baccalaureus). [Footnote 47] Certain historical evidence of the creation -of bachelors at Paris appears in the bull of Pope Gregory IX., of the year -1281, though the degree must be of a remoter date, for the pope alludes to -it not as a novel institution, but in terms which induce us to admit its -previous existence. When a scholar had attended the course of lectures -prescribed by his faculty, and gone through a certain number of -disputations, he might present himself as a candidate for the bachelorship. -Having passed his examination before the doctors (magistri) of his faculty -to their satisfaction, and taken the usual oath of fidelity and obedience -to the university, he gained the actual promotion by the chancellor. -Hereupon be proceeded with his friends and others whom he chose to invite, -in a more or less brilliant _cortége_, to the banquet which he -provided in honor of the occasion. In the procession the staff or sceptre -(baculus, sceptrum, virga) of the university was carried in front of the -new-made bachelor, as the emblem of his recently gained academical dignity. -The bachelors were still only a higher class of students, and as such they -are frequently called _Archischolares_. They, of course, preceded the -students in rank, were allowed to wear a gown of choicer material, and the -cap called _Quadtatum_, while the _Birrettum_ [Footnote 48] was -reserved for the doctors. - - [Footnote 47: As to the derivation of this term hardly a doubt can be - entertained. The ancient custom of carrying the academic staff or - scepter (baculus) before the candidates on his promotion to the first - degree, undoubtedly gave origin to the terms _Bacularius_ and - _Baculariatus_, which only in later times were corrupted into - _Baccularius_ and _Baccalaureus_. Thus with Kink against - Balaeus, Voight, and others, who give the most fantastic derivations, - such as _bataille_ (batalarius), _bas-chevalier_, etc.] - - [Footnote 48: _Quadratum_, the square cap; _birrettum_, a - term still preserved in the French _barrette_, a cardinal's hat; - in German the term _barrett_ is used for the cap worn by priests - when in official dress.] - -{215} - -The bachelors were closely connected with their respective faculties, and -could not renounce this connection, or even choose another place of -residence, without special permission. They formed the transition from the -students to the masters, as they participated in the functions of both. -They had to direct the private study and repetitions of the scholars, and -work out the doctor's system, which the latter merely sketched in its -principal theses and rudimentary outline. The bachelors, in fact, -represented the hardest worked people of the body academic. In later -centuries they were actually ill treated by the doctors of Paris, who -confined themselves to deliver one single lecture in the whole year, -leaving all the rest of the work to their inferior fellow-graduates. -Besides their share in teaching the students, they performed other -important duties. They were the industrious copyists of classical works, -and while they thus toiled for the instruction of others in narrower or -wider circles, they at the same time qualified themselves for the -attainment of higher degrees. Opportunities for the advancement of their -own erudition were given in the _disputations_. It was incumbent upon -every doctor or master (magister) from time to time to hold and direct a -public disputation, at which the doctors, bachelors, and students were -present. The doctors, clad in the furred doctor-gown (cappa, taphardum), -and with the _birrettum_, took their places on elevated chairs, which -were arranged in a circle round the walls of the hall. The cross seats were -occupied by the bachelors, behind whom mustered the plebeian students, in -earlier times cowering on the floor, later on provided with the luxury of -seats. - -The presiding doctor, who directed the disputation, having entered the -pulpit, chose from the text-book a certain passage and formed it into an -argument (quaestio), the development or exposition of which was called -_determinatio_. Now the task of the bachelors commenced, who, with -respect to their functions, were called _respondentes_ and divided -into _defendentes_ and _opponentes_. They had their own pulpit, -from which one or other individual of their class delivered his -_argumentatio, pro_ or _con_, and then awaited the response of -his antagonist. When, however, the contest required a rapid succession of -questions and answers, both occupied the same pulpit, facing each other in -a contest which very often did not lack the stimulus of personal animosity. -When they became extravagant in their argumentation, strayed from the -original question, or in the heat of the combat fell into excesses of -language, it was the office of the presiding doctor to recall them to the -point at issue, or, if need were, to impose silence. Sometimes, and perhaps -not unfrequently, matters became so complicated as to leave a solution of -the question more than doubtful, in which case the doctor, on his own -authority, pronounced a decision, to which the contending parties had to -submit. Similarly to the practice prevalent in tournaments, the -disputations were wound up with a courtesy (recommendatio), a harangue in -favor of the opponent. Students were not allowed to take part in the -disputations directed by a doctor; but they had their own combats of the -kind, presided over by a bachelor. - -While promotion to the bachelorship took place four times a year, the -competition for the _license_ could occur only once or twice, commonly -at the opening of the new scholastic year. The scientific requirements -differed in different universities and faculties, and the course of -promotion was not everywhere the same in all its details, but the following -outlines will, we hope, give a fair picture of the generality of cases. The -day of competition for the license (licentia docendi) being agreed upon -between the chancellor and the respective faculties, it was publicly -announced by placards at the entrance of churches and other conspicuous -places, and several times pronounced from the pulpits of the clergy. -{216} -On the appointed day the candidates presented themselves before their -respective faculties, and on the morrow they were introduced to the -chancellor, to petition him that he would graciously accept them as -candidates, and appoint the day of examination. Hereupon they pledged -themselves by oath to be obedient to the chancellor, to promote the welfare -of the university, to further peace and concord among the nations and -faculties, to deliver lectures at least during the first year of their -license, to be faithful to the doctrines of the church, and to defend them -against every hostile aggression. Then the functions of the faculties began -and ended with the examination of the candidate, who, upon having passed -satisfactorily, was recommended to the chancellor for the actual reception -of the license. Thus it becomes evident that the license was not the gift -of the faculty, but emanated from the chancellor as the representative of -the bishop, the church; nay, more, in several Italian universities it was, -in spite of their democratic character, customary for the bishop himself to -preside at the examination for the license and the promotion of the -successful competitors. When the chancellor withheld his confirmation (as -on several occasions of differences having arisen between him and the -university it did happen), the most brilliantly sustained examination -failed to make a licentiate out of a bachelor. The examination for the -three higher faculties was held in the presence of all the doctors, any one -of whom had a right to examine the candidate on the previously appointed -"theses." In the theological faculty the questions were everywhere fixed by -the episcopal representative, the chancellor, who even might interfere in -the examination itself. The same right could be claimed by him in the -faculty of law. - -To pronounce judgment on the scientific qualifications of the candidate was -the task of the whole faculty. On the appointed day the successful -competitors appeared in the church in the presence of the chancellor, and, -kneeling down before him (_ob reverentium Dei et sedis apostolicae_), -they received the license, the chancellor using the formula: "By the -authority of God Almighty, the apostles Peter and Paul, and the Apostolic -See, in whose name I act, I grant you the license of teaching, lecturing, -disputing, here and everywhere throughout the world, in the name," etc. -(Ego, auctoritate Dei omnipotentis, et apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et -apostolicae sedis, qua fungor in hac parte, do tibi licentiam, legendi, -regendi, disputandi, hic et ubique terrarum, in nomine Patris et Filii et -Spiritus Sancti. Amen.) - -After the act was over there followed the payment of fees and the -inevitable banquet. The arts faculty conferred with the license the degree -of the magisterium at the same time. The license enabled the candidate to -teach in public at all the universities of Western Europe. In the earlier -centuries this prerogative of universal recognition of the license was not -enjoyed by all the universities. That of Paris was honored with it as early -as the year 1279 by Pope Nicolas III.; Oxford did not receive it until the -year 1319; while the university of Vienna enjoyed it ever since its -foundation by the bull of Pope Urban V. of the year 1365. When the church -had performed her functions by bestowing the license upon the candidate, he -was not therewith a member of the faculty. For this purpose he had to seek -approval and reception from the respective faculty itself (petere licentiam -incipiendi in artibus, in medicina, etc.), which, in the regular course of -events, was never withheld. There was in this proceeding a manifestation of -corporate right and independence which the faculties loved to display on -this occasion. Though hardly more than a formality, it tended to give -expression to their consciousness of being free corporations upon which no -candidate could be intruded, though it were by the highest functionary of -the university. -{217} -The bachelors, as we intimated before, may be considered a higher degree of -students, and the licentiates, we may add, formed a lower degree of -masters. They, therefore, sat in the same compartments with the masters, -but in the rear; they might, like the doctors, wear the _cappa_ -(gown), but not the _birrettum_; nor were they allowed to deliver -lectures on their own responsibility, but had to do so under the direction -of a doctor. Licentiates, however, if reading by appointment of a doctor, -or in his stead, were considered independent lecturers. To make the -licentiate a doctor, nothing was required but the act of _promotion_ ---a mere formality again, but of no slight importance, for it was the final -transaction which stamped the candidate as a man of learning, the -legitimate and competent teacher. - -The act of promotion was celebrated with the greatest possible splendor. -The tolling of the church bells gave the signal for the procession to -prepare. All the doctors, licentiates, bachelors, and students, having -previously assembled in front of the candidate's house, they, upon the -second signal being given by the bells, move in a pompous _cortége_ -toward the church, where the sound of trumpets and timbrels received them -upon their entrance. For the court, the judges, the magistrates, and the -members of the different faculties, separate accommodation was provided, -the populace filling the remaining space. The doctors of the respective -faculties having taken their seats, the chancellor opened the proceedings -by a brief allocution, in which he permitted the candidate to ascend the -pulpit (_auctoritate cancellarii_). The candidate delivered a speech -(pulchram et decentem arengam) in honor of the faculty, and finally -petitioned for the insignia of doctor. Upon this the promoter (one of the -doctors of the faculty) ascended the pulpit and held an oration -recommendatory of the candidate, and then, following his invitation, all -the doctors formed a circle and received the _doctorandus_ in their -centre, where the promoter transmitted into his hands an open and a closed -volume as the symbols of his scientific avocations, gave him the kiss of -peace as the mark of friendship and fraternity, and placed on his head the -_birrettum_ in manifestation of his new dignity. Immediately after -these ceremonies the new doctor ascended the pulpit (now _sua -auctoritate_) and delivered a lecture on any theme fitting the occasion, -thus availing himself at once of the acquired privilege. From this it would -appear that the act of promotion belonged to the chancellor and faculty -jointly, and not to the university as such, for its actual head, the -rector, took no part whatever in the proceedings. The doctor alone had the -right of wearing a gown ornamented with silk and fur, and the birrettum as -indicative of his rank. In his social position he was considered of equal -rank with noblemen, and therefore wore the golden ring and other attributes -of the nobility, and in public manifestoes he always appears included in -the aristocratic class of society. The titles of _doctor_ and -_magister_ designated one and the same degree, and yet there was a -shade of difference in their meaning, magister (master) being applied to -scientific superiority or mastership, while doctor signified the person -who, in consequence of this degree, exercised the functions of teacher or -professor; hence, magister was the title of courtesy, doctor that of the -professional man, a distinction which will become evident from phrases such -as this: Magister Johannes, doctor in theologia, etc. Every doctor enjoyed -the right, and during the first year of his license undertook the duty, of -lecturing in that faculty which had promoted him. - -The officials and servants formed no inconsiderable appendage to the -university. They are mentioned under the names of _notarii, syndici, -thesaurarii,_ and the lower orders of beadles or famuli of various -descriptions. More important, if not in position, yet in number, were the -_academic citizens_. -{218} -To these belonged tailors, shoemakers, laundresses, booksellers, -stationers, and a host of different trades, which had to provide for the -wants of university men exclusively, and formed a body distinct altogether -from the city tradesmen. All these servants of the university, the academic -citizens and their servants, together with the servants of each individual -belonging to the university, counted as members of this community. If we -take into consideration that dignitaries of the church and of the state, -and noblemen, visited the universities, accompanied by a numerous retinue -of attendants and servants; that even scholars of the wealthier middle -classes were followed by two servants at least (and in this case called -"tenentes locum nobilium"--gentlemen commoners?), we can form an idea of -the immense crowd of academic individuals resident in the great -universities. As to the number of academic members in different places, the -opinions of modern historians are at variance, and in spite of their -controversies the real facts of the case have not been ultimately elicited. -Wood, in his history of the university of Oxford, relates that in the year -1250 the number of members of that university amounted to 30,000! This -fabulous number scarcely ever found credence among modern historians until -Huber, the German historian of the English universities, entered the lists -as the champion of Wood's thirty thousand. Though, historically, he has no -new light to throw upon the subject, he makes his deduction in favor of the -thirty thousand plausible enough. Taking into consideration the facts we -have just advanced concerning the wide range of the term of academic -members, adducing, further, the circumstance of Oxford having at that time -attained the meridian of its glory by the immigration of Paris scholars in -1209, and the settlement of the mendicant friars there, he certainly urges -on our minds the belief that the number of academic people must have been -amazingly great. But looking apart from the circumstance that Wood's -assertion is not confirmed by direct documentary evidence, that the average -numbers mentioned before and after the year indicated turn in the scale -between 3,000 and 5,000, we have scarcely any other measure by which to -judge the above statement but the highest mark of numbers related of the -other great universities. Allowing the most favorable circumstances to have -worked in unison toward assembling a large crowd at Oxford University, we -yet believe no one will be likely to uphold the assertion that Oxford -University was at that time, or at any time, more densely populated than -Paris or Bologna. In the year 1250, we know for a fact Germany was not in -possession of one single university, and yet the number of academic -scholars in that country was not inconsiderable. From want of a Studium -Generale in their own country, German scholars had to visit foreign -universities, and the current is clearly distinguishable in two directions, -one to Italy for the study of law, the other to Paris for arts and -theology. Even admitting Oxford's fame for its dialectic and theological -schools having been on an equality with that of Paris, we cannot conceive -how, in its insular position, it could rival with the great continental -universities which offered ready access to students from all parts of -Europe. Now the greatest number ever mentioned at the university of Paris -is 10,000, when in the year 1394 _all_ the members of the university -had to vote in the case of the papal schism, and even this number cannot be -relied on, as, according to Gerson's admission, several members gave more -than one vote, and others voted who had no right to be on the academic -suffrage. Admitting, however, that the gross sum may be an approximately -fair estimate, we turn our attention to Bologna. This university -undoubtedly contained all the advantages of celebrity, easy access, freedom -of constitution, and whatever else may conduce to attract numerous -visitors. -{219} -Yet the highest number is 10,000, mentioned in the year 1262. The -universities of Salamanca and Vienna, certainly not the least among -academic establishments, even in the time of their greatest success and -most flourishing condition, could not boast of a number exceeding 7,000. -From these data it may become sufficiently evident what we have to believe -of Oxford's thirty thousand, a number which must stand on its own merits -until it can be supported and confirmed by direct historic evidence. It is -true the line of demarcation between trustworthy and fabulous accounts -concerning numbers is very difficult to draw in mediaeval records, -especially when they refer to institutions which, exposed to the -vicissitudes of fortune, experienced a continual influx and reflux of -scholars, so that the famous Bologna, which numbered 10,000 members in -1262, had fallen to 500 in the year 1431, not to mention the intermediate -degrees in the scale of numbers. - -The whole body academic, numerous and complicated though it was, did not -require any considerable amount of regulating and governing agents. By the -simplicity of rule and government the middle ages characteristically differ -from our own wonderful machineries which claim for every touch that is -wanted the experienced hands of hundreds of officials, and even then they -are oftentimes served badly enough. Self-government was the ruling idea in -the middle ages, and consequently we see the universities directed in their -complicated progress by a number of officials comparatively so small as to -fill the modern observer with amazement. The university being divided into -different bodies or corporations (the nations and faculties), it left the -direction and management or these different institutions chiefly to -themselves. At the head of the nations stood the _proctors_ -(procuratores), and the faculties were governed by their deans (decani). -The range of their official rights and duties will be illustrated later on. -The president of the different nations and of the four faculties was the -rector. He was elected for the space of a year, or six months only, by the -proctors or presidents of the nations, and in earlier times regularly out -of the arts faculty; at a later period, and in the younger universities, -out of one of the nations and one of the faculties alternately. The rector -was not to be a married man--at Vienna no monk either; Prague required him -to be a member of the clerical profession, imitating in this, as in almost -everything else, the university of Paris, where even the professors were -bound to celibacy (nullus uxoratus admittebatur ad regentiam). The rector -was the head, the president (caput, principale) of the whole university. -Oxford and Prague alone, where the supreme power was invested in the -chancellor, form in this respect an exception, but only so far as names are -concerned, for the Oxford chancellor was _eo ipso_ rector of the -university. The rector's high dignity found expression in the title of -_Magnificus_, which, in the middle ages, was allowed to none but -princes imperial and royal, and a suitable dress distinguished the highest -official of the university whatever he appeared in public. It is surprising -to learn what an important figure a university rector played on public -occasions. At Paris, and later on at Vienna, the rector, when officiating -in his avocation, preceded in rank even the bishops. The rector of the -university of Louvain (Loewen) Was allowed a life guard of his own; and -even Charles V., attending on one occasion the convention of the -university, took his place after the rector. At Leyden, the stadtholder, -when appearing in the name of the states-general, allowed the precedence to -the rector of the university; and whenever the rector of Padua visited the -republic of Venice he was received by the senate with the highest marks of -honor. -{220} -When at Vienna the court was prevented from attending at the procession on -Corpus Christi, the rector of the university took the place of the -sovereign immediately behind the _sanctissimum_. From the exalted -station which a university rector occupied in society the fact is easily -explained that dignitaries of the church, nobleman of the highest rank, and -even princes of blood royal, did not slight the rectorial purple of the -university. The rector wore, like the deans, a black gown, but on festive -occasions he was dressed in a long robe of scarlet velvet. He acted as the -president of the highest academic tribunal, and held his judicial sessions, -assisted by the proctors, and if he so pleased he might invite the deans as -well. In criminal cases occurring within the bounds of the university, he -could inflict any, from the slightest to the severest penalties of the law. -Hence, a _sword_ and a _sceptre_, were carried before him when he -traversed the streets or appeared on public occasions. He convened the -meetings of the university corporations, and conventions held under any -other authority (even that of the chancellor) had no legal power in -carrying resolutions. What we have just stated concerning the rector holds -good for the chancellor of Oxford. When Paris and other universities -contrived to free themselves from the influence of their diocesan, Oxford -never loosened the close ties which bound it to the church, and received -without opposition its governing head from the bishop. But it must be borne -in mind that the chancellor of the university had nothing whatever to do -with the church of Lincoln, which had its own chancellor. Once appointed by -the bishop, Oxford's chancellor entered upon all the functions, and the -same independent position as the rector elsewhere. On the other hand, -however, he represented the chancellor of the other continental -universities, who formed the connecting links between the university and -the church. During the middle ages the functions of the continental -chancellor were restricted to the few cases of promotion at which be acted -as the representative of the bishop, to give the sanction and blessing of -the church to proceedings which were deemed as naturally belonging to her -proper sphere of supervision and authority. Having so far finished our -sketch of the different members of the Corpus Academicum, we may finally -let them pass in review as they appeared at processions and other public -occasions, according to rank and precedence. At the head of the train we -see, of course, the rector followed by the dean, doctors and licentiates of -theology, with whom went in equal rank the sons of dukes and counts, and -the higher nobility generally. These were succeeded by the dean, doctors -and licentiates of the law faculty, and the students belonging to the -baronial order, and with the medical faculty proceeded the students of the -lower nobility. The fourth division was formed by the dean and professors -(magistri regentes) of the arts faculty and those bachelors of other -faculties who were masters of arts, while the bachelors of arts followed, -and the students closed the procession, they also being divided and -following each other according to the succession of the faculties just -described, where, _ceteris paribus_, seniority gave the precedence. As -in all institutions of medieval society the division of ranks was strictly -observed, and in case of need enforced in the most rigorous manner, a -transgression in this respect being visited on any member with severe, -sometimes the severest penalty, that is, expulsion from the university. - -All the different degrees of individuals we have now examined were united -in corporations, representing a union either according to local divisions -in _nations_, or arranged with respect to scientific pursuits in -_faculties_. Concerning the nations of the universities, former -writers intricated [sic] themselves in great difficulties by recurring to -hypotheses in which historical records did not bear them out. According to -Bulseus and Huber the nations of the university represented the different -tribes or nationalities which inhabited a country, and found a rallying -point at the centre of science and education. -{221} -Now, this assertion is in open contradiction to the character and nature of -academic nations, as may become evident from the following data which we -have to advance. The nations of the English universities were, and always -continued to be, those of the _Boreales_ or _northerners_, and -the _Australes_ or _southerners_. Among the Boreales were -included the Scotch, and with the Australes figured the Irish and Welsh. If -it had lain in the plan of those institutions to preserve and foster the -difference of national extraction and to develop it to the highest degree -or contrast, how could this end be obtained by a corporation of men which -contained in itself the contradictory elements of Celtic and Saxon -derivation, elements then more sharply defined and opposed to each other -than now? Directing our attention to Paris, we find at an earlier epoch -there also only two distinct nations, the French and the English, the -former comprising Southern, and the latter Northern Europe. When these two -nations were multiplied into four no regard whatever was paid to the -different nationalities, for the divisions were the _English, French, -Picardian_, and _Norman_. Why, we may ask, was the nation of the -Normans to hold a separate position from that of the English, with whom -they were one body from a political point of view, or from the French, whom -they resembled closely enough in language and manners? When at the -University of Vienna the _Austrian_ nation comprised the Italians, and -the _Rhenish_ nation, besides Southern Germans, the Burgundians, -French, and Spaniards, where is the principle of nationality preserved? -Turning finally to the Italian universities, we meet with hardly any other -distinction but that of _Cisalpine_ and _Transalpine_. How wide -the difference between the nationalities of these academic nations must -have been we may leave it with our readers to conclude, when we state the -fact that in the Transalpine nation we find Germans, Scandinavians, -Frenchmen, Normans, Englishmen, and Spaniards. What then, will be the -question naturally proposed, was the meaning, tendency, and character of -academic nations? The middle ages, in defining and separating the members -of the university into nations, did not intend to sharpen the national -contrasts and differences, but, on the contrary, to soften them down, -perhaps to destroy them altogether. Not natural _natural extraction_, -but the geographical situation it was which proffered the criterion for -such division. If it were otherwise, they would have applied to these -divisions not the term of _Nationes_ (that is, ubi natus), but that of -_Gentes_. Its chief support our view will derive from the fact that in -the middle ages the distinction of rank and avocations far outweighed that -of nationalities in our acceptation of the term. Just as chivalrous -knighthood represented, without respect to the different countries, an -institution coalesced into one body or corporation, so likewise the school -had its centres of unity, independent of nationalities. The chief criterion -of nationalities, _language_, formed in the scholastic establishments -a centre of unity, Latin being the medium of conversation and literature, -from the Baltic to the Adriatic, and from Cracow to Lisbon. The division -into nations consequently aimed at _uniting_ the different tribes -according to the different quarters of the globe whence they had come. -Every university was looked upon as a geographical centre, and the -different nationalities were grouped into nations, and designated by the -names of those peoples which resided nearest to the central point, the -university. It is true, the division recognized by the university did not -object to secondary combinations among students of the same nationality if -they wished to enter into a league with their countrymen, so that the -Germans, for instance, who belonged to the English nation at Paris, and to -the Transalpine nation of the Italian universities, might at any place form -a separate corporation known as a _province_. -{222} -These provinces, however, were not recognized by, or in any official -relation to the _proctors_ (procuratores). The name itself implies the -nature of their office, that of being the representatives, the advocates, -the attorneys of their respective nations. Not only graduates, but even -students were eligible to the office, because doctrine or learning was not -at all concerned where academic relationship offered the sole guide in the -election. When the whole university was convened, each nation voted -separately, and the majority out of the four votes (of the four nations) -decided. Questions which concern the pecuniary contributions of all the -members, or the external relations of the university and the like, were -discussed and settled in the convention of the nations. The proctors, with -the rector as their head, formed the court of academic jurisdiction, and -they also elected the rector, who in early times was nothing but the -supreme magistrate, the mayor, as it were, of the academic community. - -The nations of which we have treated in the preceding paragraph formed the -first and natural division of the Corpus Academicum into independent -corporations, and may therefore outreach in antiquity the faculties. As -soon, however, as the different branches of learning had fully grown into -distinct sciences, it was merely in accordance with the corporate spirit of -the times that the scholars of each respective science separated into -independent bodies and assumed the form and constitution of corporations. -The origin of these scientific corporations or faculties is, like that of -the nations, and of the first universities themselves, shrouded in -obscurity. The sciences represented in the different faculties may surely -be traced back to the early centuries of mediaeval education, having their -prototype in the Trivium and Quadrivium of the monastic schools; but -without entering any further upon probabilities and conjectures about their -origin, we proceed at once to a characterization of the faculties at the -time of their full development, which is historically authenticated. In all -universities the faculties represented the same quadripartite cyclus of -sciences, that is, the _Facultus Artium, Jurisprudentiae, Medicinae_, -and _Theologiae_. It was not requisite for a Studium Generale or -university to comprise all the four faculties; on the contrary, we find at -the early epoch of academic life hardly any university which professed the -four branches of knowledge. Paris and Oxford, for instance, were originally -confined to arts and theology, to which the schools of medicine and law -were added at a later period, probably copied from the model schools of law -and medicine in Italy. Turning to the peninsula of the Apennines we find -there in the earlier times not a single university combining the -theological with the other three faculties. Bologna did not gain the -privilege of a theological faculty before the year 1362, when Pope Innocent -VI. decreed that in the law university the faculty of theology should be -established, and theological degrees conferred by the same. Till then it -had been customary for Italians to betake themselves to Paris, for the sake -of obtaining promotion in theology. Of other Italian universities, Padua -received a theological faculty by Pope Urban V., upon the intercession of -Francesco da Carrara, then, Signor of Padua. Pisa, when obtaining the -confirmation of Pope Benedict XII., was allowed the "studium sacrae -paginae;" but the right of promotion was a case altogether separately -treated, and therefore expressly mentioned where it was bestowed, which, -with regard to Pisa, did not take place. Ferrara also had a theological -school exclusive of the right of promotion; but in the year 1391 it -succeeded in gaining the privilege of promotion in theology, which, by the -end of the fourteenth century, was more universally conceded. -{223} -But even then we find famous schools, such as Piacenza, Pavia, Lucca, -Naples, Perugia, and even that of Rome itself, not participating in the -said prerogative. The university of Montpellier (like most of the French -schools, Paris excepted) had no theological faculty; and Vienna, confirmed -by Pope Urban in 1365, was not favored with a theological faculty -previously to the year 1384. These exceptions were owing to various causes, -partly of a local, partly of a higher and more important nature. The -interests of neighboring universities, for instance, might threaten a -collision (as in the case of Prague and Vienna), or the pursuits of -theological studies could be amply provided for by monastic and cathedral -schools. But the principal cause of this system appears to lie in quite a -different circumstance. The method of Scholastic sophisms had, in spite of -the opposing movements of the popes, gained day by day more ground in the -theological department, a fact which made a strict supervision, and -therefore a more limited scene for theological operations a real -desideratum. The greatest caution was deemed necessary, owing to the fact -that even at Paris, since the scholastic method had gained superiority, -startling doctrines were advanced, divergent from the traditional teaching -of the church, and sufficient to cause apprehension. - -Admission to degrees depended first of all on the diligent attendance at -lectures, which the candidate had to prove by testimonials, and secondly on -a certain number of years which he had to devote to the special studies of -his faculty. For the bachelorship of arts a study of two, for the -magisterium a study of three years was required. In the faculty of law the -bachelor had, previously to his promotion, to go through a course of three -years, and after seven years of study the license would be granted; while -the medical faculty imposed for the bachelorship two or three, for the -license five or six years, differing in proportion to the candidate's -previous studies in the faculty of arts. After six years of theological -study the candidate could attain the bachelorship in theology, whereupon -his faculty pointed out one or other chapter of Holy Scripture on which he -had to lecture under the superintendence of a doctor. Having passed three -years in these pursuits he might gain permission to read on "dogmatics" or -doctrinal theology (libri sententiarii). Bachelors were, therefore, divided -into _baccalaurei biblici_ and _baccalaurei sententiarii_, and -both designated as _cursores_. A bachelor who had begun the third book -of the sentences became _baccalaurens formatus_, and after three -years' further practice, that is, after _eleven_ years of theological -study, he presented himself for the license. The head of each faculty, the -_dean_ (decanus), was elected by the graduates out of his respective -faculty, in some cases for six, in others for twelve months. The community -of the university was represented in three different conventions: the -consistory (consistorium), the congregation (congregatio universitatis), -and the general assembly (plena concio). The first was originally the -judicial tribunal, and though its functions became more varied at a later -time, it continued to be the representative assembly of the academic -nations. The congregation was a meeting of a more scientific, and, as it -were, aristocratic character, including only the doctors and licentiates of -the different faculties. It formed the court of appeal from the sentence of -the respective faculties. The general assembly, comprising all the members -of the university, was convened on but few occasions, and then only for the -celebration of academic festivals, or for the publication of new statutes, -or especially in cases when contributions were to be levied from all the -members of the university. On the last-mentioned occasion only had the -students or undergraduates the right of voting; in every other instance -they were restricted to silence, or the more passive though uproarious mode -of participation, by applauding or hissing the proposals and discussions of -their elders and betters. -{224} -Here, again, we have to point out a characteristic difference between the -Cismontane and Transmontane universities. While the whole constitution of -the universities on this side of the Alps, with their laws, statutes, etc., -was dependent on the aristocratic body of the graduates, the universities -of Italy, and chiefly that of Bologna, display a thoroughly democratic -character. At Bologna the students were the gentlemen who, out of their -number, elected the rectors. The Italian rector was, in fact, identical -with our proctor, though his functions extended over a wider range. The -aristocratic congregation of faculties is almost totally unknown in Italian -universities, where the nations preserved their predominant position all -through the middle ages. The professors were hardly more than the officials -of the students, and in their service, though in the pay of the citizens. -In the documents we never read of any legal transaction being performed by -the faculties, but always by the rectors and the nations, or the rectors -and the students, and even the papal bulls with respect to the Italian -universities freely use the expression of a _universitas magistrorum et -scholarium_. In short, the Italian universities were democracies, while -the western, and chiefly the English universities present traits of a -decidedly aristocratic character. - -To complete the sketch of the organization of mediaeval universities we -must add a few remarks concerning their position in society, and the -relation in which they stood to civil and ecclesiastical authorities. The -members of the body academic were subject to three distinct tribunals: -internal discipline and jurisdiction belonged to the functions of the -rector and proctors; violations of the common law which were committed -outside the pale of the university, and required the apprehension of the -delinquent, lay within the pale of the bishop's jurisdiction; and all cases -falling under the head of _atrocia_ were, for final decision, reserved -to the law courts of the crown. The bounds of ecclesiastical jurisdiction -being rather vague and undefined, collisions between the ecclesiastical and -secular authorities would naturally arise. In order to provide for all -emergencies the pope appointed _conservatores_, individuals who had no -direct connection with the university, and could therefore the more -effectually step forward as mediators when they considered its immunities -and liberties endangered. The university of Oxford, for example, was placed -under the guardianship of the episcopal sees of London and Salisbury, and -the "ward," it would appear, contrived to get into so many scrapes that the -charge of _conservators_ was rendered anything but a sinecure. At one -time we find them in a controversy with the crown, at another in a deadly -feud with the city magistrates, and again occasionally exchanging not very -friendly wishes with the bishop of Lincoln, the diocesan of Oxford. When -they found their opponents refractory, they appealed to the pope, who at -once despatched a legate to the scene of action, where, in nine cases out -of ten, the controversy was decided in favor of the university, the darling -child of the church. By the constitution of Pope Gregory IX., granted to -Paris University in the year 1231, and soon extended to Oxford, the -functions of the academic by the side of civil and ecclesiastic authorities -were more clearly and satisfactorily defined. Most conspicuous in that -constitution is a statute, according to which the chancellor of Paris as -well as the municipal authorities had to take an oath to honor and maintain -the privileges of the university. The relations between the academic -authorities and the city magistrates, or, to use an academic phrase, -between gown and town, remained at all times in an unsatisfactory state. In -Italy the universities to a great extent owed their existence to the -liberality of opulent citizens, who valued the institutions far too highly -to disgust them by any infringement of their privileges. -{225} -Should, however, the city of Bologna show difficulties in their path, the -scholars, well aware of a friendly reception elsewhere, packed up their -valuables, or pawned them in case of need, and emigrated to Padua. If the -commune of Padua grew in any way obnoxious to the university, the rectors -and students at once decided on an excursion to Vercelli. The good citizens -of Vercelli received them with open arms, and in the fulness of their joy -assigned five hundred of the best houses in the town for the accommodation -of their guests, paid the professors decent salaries, and to make the -gentlemen students comfortable to the utmost the city engaged two copyists -to provide them with books at a trifling price fixed by the rector. If the -Bolognese emigrants did not feel comfortable at Imola, there was its -neighboring rival Siena, which allured the capricious sons of the Muses -with prospects far too substantial to be slighted by the philosophical -students. These gentlemen having pawned their books, their "omnia sua," the -city of Siena paid six thousand florins to recover them, defrayed the -expenses of the academic migration, settled on each of the professors three -hundred gold florins, and--to crown these acts of generosity--allowed the -students gratuitous lodgings for eighteen months. However much an Italian -student might have relished an occasional brawl in the streets, there was -hardly an opportunity given him to gratify his pugilistic tendencies, while -in this country the street fights between students and citizens often -assumed the most fearful proportions. The more English citizens fostered a -feeling of independence, derived from increased wealth and social progress, -the less were they inclined to expose themselves to the taunts, and their -wives and daughters to the impudence, of some lascivious youth or other. -The students, on the other hand, able with each successive campaign to -point out a new privilege gained, a new advantage won over their -antagonists, would naturally find an occasional fight tend to the promotion -of the interests of the body academic, besides gratifying their private -taste for a match, which in those days, and in this country especially, may -well-nigh have attained the pitch of excellent performance. We do not think -it necessary or desirable to enter into the details of these riots between -_town_ and _gown_ which are very minutely narrated in Huber's -history of the English Universities. From the position which they had -gained in England, it will easily be understood that the universities could -not keep aloof from the great political contests of the times, so that as -far back as King John's reign the political parties had their -representatives at the academic schools, where the two nations of Australes -and Boreales fought many a miniature battle, certainly not always with a -clear discernment as to the political principles which they pretended to -uphold. - -It is very curious to observe the manner of self-defence which those -gigantic establishments adopted when they were pressed by the supreme -powers of church or state. In the first instance, they had recourse to -suspension of lectures and all other public functions, a step sufficiently -coercive on most occasions to force even the crown into compliance with -their wishes. Should, however, this remedy fail, they applied to still more -impressive means, which consisted in dissolution of the university or its -secession to another town. Even the most despotic monarch could not abide -without apprehension the consequences of such a step, if resorted to by a -powerful community such as Paris and Oxford, for it had received legal -sanction in the constitution granted by Gregory IX., and its results were -far too important to be easily forecast or estimated. -{226} -We have already alluded to the frequent migrations of Italian universities, -and need, therefore, only point out the impulse imparted to Oxford by the -immigration in 1209 of a host of secessionist students and professors from -Paris, the unmistakable influence on the development of Cambridge exercised -by secessionist scholars of Oxford, and the rise of the university of -Leipzig upon the immigration of several thousand German students who, with -their professors, seceded from Prague, where Slavonic nationality and -Hussite doctrines had gained the ascendency over Germans and Catholics. - -The universities gradually emancipated themselves, rose higher and higher -in the estimation of society, and thus became the sole leaders and guides -of public opinion. Popes and emperors forwarded their decrees to the most -famous universities in order to have them inserted in the codes of canon -and civil law, discussed in the lectures of the professors, and thus -commended to a favorable reception among the public. As the highest -authorities of church and state, so did individual scholars appreciate the -influence of Alma Mater. It was not uncommon for literary men to read their -compositions before the assembled university, in order to receive its -sanction and approval before publication. So did Giraldus, for example, -recite his Topography of Ireland in the convention of the university of -Oxford, and Bolandino his chronicle in the presence of the professors and -scholars of Padua. - -We cannot more fitly conclude our remarks on the social position of the -mediaeval universities than by shortly narrating the occasion on which they -displayed, for the last time in the middle ages, the immense power of their -social position. The university of Paris, as it behoved the most ancient -and eminent theological school, took the lead in the movements which were -made in the case of the papal schism. Ever memorable will be the occasion -when, on Epiphany, 1391, Gerson, the celebrated chancellor of the -university of Paris, delivered his address on the subject before the king, -the court, and a numerous and brilliant assembly. Owing to his exertions -and the co-operation of the professors and members of the university, -certain proposals were agreed upon which tended to restore peace and unity -in the church. The king, for a time, was inclined to listen to these -proposals, but being influenced again by the party of Clement VII., he -ordered the chancellor to prevent the university from taking any further -step in the matter. All petitions directed to the king for a revocation of -the sentence proving futile, the university proceeded to apply means of -coercion. All lectures, sermons, and public functions whatsoever were -suspended until it should have gained a redress of its grievances. - -In the year 1409 the Synod of Pisa was opened to take the long-desired -steps against the schism. The universities were strongly represented by -their delegates, not the least in importance among the venerable -constituencies of the Occidental Church, the number of doctors falling -little short of a thousand. Reformation of the church in its head and -members, and a revision of its discipline and hierarchic organization, were -loudly proclaimed by the representatives of the universities, foremost -among all by Gerson, the chancellor of Paris, the most brilliant star in -the splendid array of venerable doctors and prelates of the church. - -Mediaeval universities were truly _universal_ in their character, -being united by one language, literature, and faith. With the sixteenth -century nationalities were growing into overwhelming dimensions; national -literature rose in defiant rivalry and joined revived antiquity in marked -hostility against the scions of scholasticism; and, to give the final -stroke, the unity of faith was crumbling; piecemeal under the reforming -spirit of the age. The ties which had bound mediaeval universities to each -other and to their common centre were sundered. Some became defunct; others -led a precarious existence; all had a hard and troublesome time of it--a -fact touchingly recorded in the annals of Vienna: "Ann. 1528: Propter -ruinam universitatis nullus incorporatus est." - -{227} - -This sad epitaph might have been written over the portals of more than one -university and public school by the middle of the sixteenth century. - - - Literature. - - Bulaerus, "Historia Universitatis Paris." Paris, 1665 - - Wood, "Historia et Antiquitates Universitatis Oxon." Ox., 1668. - - Herrnanni Corringii Opera (tom. v., "Antiquitatis, Academicae"). 1730. - - Guia, "Historia de las Universidades, Colegios, Academias y demas Cuerpos - Literarios de España," etc. Madrid, 1786. - - Huber, "Die Englischen Universitäten." Cassel, 1839. - - Dyer, "History of the University Colleges of Cambridge." - - Dyer, "The Privileges of the University of Cambridge." - - Fabranius, "Historia Academiae Pisanae." 1791. - - Vincenzio Bini, "Memorie Istoriche della Perugina Università." Perug., - 1816. - - Francesco Colie, "Storia dello Studio di Padova" Pad., 1825. - - Pietro Napoli-Signorelii, "Vicende della Coltura nolle Due Sicilie." - Napoli, 1784. - - Jacobus Faccioiatus, "Fasti Gymnasil Patavini," Patav., 1757. - - Serafino Mazetti, "Memorie Storiche sopra l'Università di Bologna." - Bolog., 1840. - - G. Origila, "Storia dello Studio di Napoli." Nap., 1753. - - F. M. Renazzi, "Storia dell' Università de Roma." Roma, 1804. - - J. Bouillard, "Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de St. Germain des Prez." - Paris, 1724. - - J. E. Bimbenet, "Histoire de l'Université de Lois d'Orléans." Paris, - 1850. - - F. Nève, "Le College des Trois Langues à l'Université de Louvain." - Bruxelles, 1856. - - Meiners, "Verfassung und Verwaltung Deutscher Universitäten." Göttingen, - 1831. - - R. Kink, "Geschichte der Kalserlichen Universität zu Wein." Wein, 1854. - - Walaszki, "Conspectus Relpublicae Literariae in Hungaria." Budae, 1808. - - C. J. Hefele, "Der Cardinal Ximenes." Tübingen, 1851. - - J. P. Charpentier, "Histoire de la Rennissance des Lettres en Europe." - Paris, 1843. - - S. Voight, "Die Wiederbelebung des Classischen Alterthums." Berlin, 1859 - - J. B. Schwab, "Johannes Gerson," etc. Würsburg, 1858. - - G. Tiraboschi, "Storia della Letteratura Italians." Venezia, 1828. - - ------- - - Original. - - - The Lady of La Garaye. [Footnote 49] - - [Footnote 49: The Lady of La Garaye. By the Hon. Mrs. Norton. 12mo, pp. - 115. New-York: Anson D. F. Randolph.] - - -Two hundred years ago there dwelt in the lordly castle of Dinan, in -Brittany, the chivalric Claud Marot, Count de la Garaye, and his gracious -lady. Its fortress-like walls and majestic battlements reared themselves -against the sky and frowned upon the woods and vales around as if with -conscious dignity and power. Fair Dinan's town nestled in its protecting -shadow as a gentle maid might seek security beside the burly form of some -rough-appearing but tender-hearted giant. The porter kept its gates with a -jealous yet a kindly eye, as should befit the keeper of his master's home, -which was at once the sanctuary of his knightly honor and the hall of his -knightly bounty. The gray-haired old seneschal, with shoulders slightly -stooped by age and reverence, met the courtly guests, and bowed them -welcome with a paternal smile and bustling orders to the underlings to -prepare all needful things for their better cheer. The courtyard echoed to -the baying of the hounds all eager for the chase, and men at arms in -troublous times assembled here, mustered by the doughty - - "Captains, then of warlike fame, - Clanking and glittering as they came." - -{228} - -A retinue of well-fed servants and buxom maids prepared the goodly feast, -and ordered well the halls and chambers with their quaint and comfortable -furniture. Its noble master and mistress held sway within their castle with -fitting grandeur of demeanor, albeit with that graciousness which marks the -gentlefolk. Honored by all the country round, rich in worldly goods, yet -richer in virtue, happy in each other's love, the young count and his lady -had but one thing to mourn, and that was that God had left them childless. -A cruel accident banished for ever all hope of any heir: and so they lived -and died, yet leaving a name behind them "better than sons and daughters;" -and on this our English poetess has weaved a poem of surpassing beauty. We -propose to present some idea of it to our readers, merely saying by way of -preface that if anyone will read it as it is, he may dispense himself the -further perusal of this article, which cannot convey in partial extracts -that charm which pervades these flowing pages when undisturbed by the rude -comments of a stranger. - -The poem opens with the preparations for the chase, in which the lady is to -take a part, and at once the noble pair are described to us: - - "Cheerful the host, whatever sport befalls, - Cheerful and courteous, full of manly grace, - His heart's frank welcome written in his face; - So eager, that his pleasure never cloys, - But glad to share whatever he enjoys; - Rich, liberal, gaily dressed, of noble mien; - Clear eyes--full, curving mouth--and brow serene; - Master of speech in many a foreign tongue, - And famed for feats of arms, although too young; - Dexterous in fencing, skills in horsemanship-- - His voice and hand preferred to spur or whip; - Quick at a jest and smiling repartee, - With a sweet laugh that sounded frank and free, - But holding satire an accursed thing, - A poisoned javelin or a serpent's sting; - Pitiful to the poor; of courage high; - A soul that could all turns of fate defy; - Gentle to woman; reverent to old age."-- - -We hasten at once to add the second portrait, painted with a delicacy of -outline and warmth of coloring which display the touch of the master hand: - - "Like a sweet picture doth the ladies stand, - Still blushing as she bows; one tiny hand, - Hid by a pearl-embroidered gauntlet, holds - Her whip, and her long robe's exuberant folds. - The other hand is bare, and from her eyes - Shades now and then the sun, or softly lies, - With a caressing touch, upon the neck - Of the dear glossy steed she loves to deck - With saddle-housings worked in golden thread, - And golden bands upon his noble head. - White is the little hand whose taper fingers - Smooth his fine coat--and still the lady lingers, - Leaning against his side; nor lifts her head, - But gently turns as gathering footsteps tread; - Reminding you of doves with shifting throats, - Brooding in sunshine by their sheltering cotes. - Under her plumèd hat her wealth of curls - Falls down in golden links among pearls, - And the rich purple of her velvet vest - Slims the young waist and rounds the graceful breast." - -The invited guests having all arrived, the merry party set off with cheers -and laughter, little dreaming of the sad ending of so joyful a day. The -game secured, Count Claud and his lady, returning together, meet with a -roaring stream over which they must leap their horses: - - "Across the water full of peakèd stones-- - Across the water where it chafes and moans-- - Across the water at its widest part-- - Which wilt thou leap, O lady of brave heart?" - -Now comes one of the finest passages in the whole volume. Who can read it -without finding at the last line that he has been holding his breath? - - "He rides--reins in--looks down the torrent's course, - Pats the sleek neck of his sure-footed horse-- - Stops--measures spaces with his eagle eye, - Tries a new track, and yet returns to try. - Sudden, while pausing at the very brink, - The damp, leaf-covered ground appears to sink, - And keen instinct of the wise dumb brute - Escapes the yielding earth, the slippery root; - With a wild effort as if taking wing, - The monstrous gap he clears with one safe spring; - Reaches--(and barely reaches)--past the roar - Of the wild stream, the further lower shore-- - Scrambles--recovers--rears--and panting stands - Safe 'neath his masters nerveless, trembling hands." - -But one word mars the power of these lines; the word _safe_ in the -line, - - "The monstrous gap he clears with one safe spring." - -The safety of the unexpected leap is told us just one instant too soon. -There is an indescribable pleasure derived by the mind in being held in -suspense in the contemplation of one passing through imminent perils, and -that suspense cannot be broken, though it were but for the short time that -one takes to pass from one side of the page to the other, without loss of -power in the description, and of interest to the reader. - -{229} - -But the lady! will she attempt to follow? Did she not mark his hair-breadth -escape? The confusion of thought in the mind of the count caused by his own -peril, the sudden, unlooked-for leap, the fear lest his wife should try to -follow ere he can turn to warn her of the danger, the dumb horror which -seizes him as he sees her horse in the air leaping to his certain death; -are told in a few rapid lines, and then follows the thrilling tableau: - - "Forward they leaped! They leaped--a colored flash - Of life and beauty. Hark! A sudden crash-- - Blent with that dreadful sound, a man's sharp cry-- - Prone--'neath the crumbling bank--the horse and lady lie!" - -Like a madman he rushes to her relief, clambering "as some wild ape" from -branch to branch, trampling the lithe saplings under foot with giant tread. -His love, his fear, his trembling excitement are told in one line: - - "The strength is in his heart of twenty lives." - -What a depth of meaning there is in that one sentence, and how happy the -choice of words. When, in reading, we came upon the word _heart_ where -we expected to find "arm" or "frame," or some similar term which would -express the increase of muscular and nervous power consequent upon strong -mental emotion, we confess to having been startled by its originality, and -we admire the line as it stands as a master stroke of true poetic genius. - -Claud is so shocked at finding his beautiful and passionately loved wife -apparently dead that he is struck deaf and dumb with grief. The noise of -the passing hunt, the baying of the hounds, the cheery calls of the -huntsmen, and shouts of the merry guests he neither hears nor heeds. It is -some time ere he realizes the terrible accident. At last the thoughts shape -themselves in his disordered brain, and, with one wild glance at her -prostrate form, be catches her in his arms, and - - "Parts the masses of her golden hair, - He lifts her, helpless, with a shuddering care, - He looks into her face with awe-struck eyes: - She dies--the darling of his soul--she dies!" - -Then follows one of those passages marked by that deep pathos for which -this poem is so remarkable: - - "You might have heard, through that thought's fearful shock, - The beating of his heart, like some huge clock; - And then the strong pulse falter and stand still - When lifted from that fear with sudden thrill - He bent to catch faint murmurs of his name, - Which from those blanched lips low and trembling came: - 'O Claud!' She said: no more-- - But never yet, - Through all the loving days since first they met, - Leaped his heart's blood with such a yearning vow - That she was all in all to him, as now." - -Some passing herdsmen came to their relief, and the bruised and corpse-like -form of the lady is borne back to the castle on a rude litter of branches. -It is impossible for us to refrain giving the strongly drawn contrast in -the following description: - - "The starry lights shine forth from tower and fall, - Stream through the gateway, glimmer on the wall, - And the loud pleasant stir of busy men - In courtyard and in stables sounds again. - And through the windows, as that death-bier passes, - They see the shining of the ruby glasses - Set at brief intervals for many a guest - Prepared to share the laugh, the song, the jest; - Prepared to drink, with many a courtly phrase, - Their host and hostess--' Health to the Garayes!' - Health to the slender, lithe, yet stalwart frame - Of Claud Marot--count of that noble name; - Health to the lovely countess: health--to her! - _Scarce seems she now with faintest breath to stir._" - -And thus the first part of this exquisite poem ends. The second part is the -"Convalescence" of the wounded lady. Her life returns, but she learns that -she is an incurable invalid, that while life lasts she must remain maimed -and sick, and, most cruel thought of all, - - "Never could she, at close or some long day - Of pain that strove with hope, exulting lay - A tiny new-born infant on her breast." - -She draws her fate from the unwilling lips of the physician, in whose -friendly eyes the tears are glimmering as he pronounces - - "The doom that sounds to her like funeral bells." - -And now she hurriedly glances in her mind at all the dreaded consequences, -among which arises the jealous fear lest she should lose the love of her -beloved Claud. His wife, indeed, but no longer his companion; only to have -the hours his pity spared. Heart-broken and crushed, she murmurs against -the holy will of God and prays for death. - -{230} - -The poetess here introduces a thought which shows her deep acquaintance -with the human heart. We shrink from sympathy for our wounded pride, and -strive to smile when our hearts are aching: - - "Wan Shine such smiles; as the evening sunlight falls - On a deserted house whose empty walls - No longer echo to the children's play, - Or voice of ruined inmates fled away; - Where wintry winds alone, with idle state, - Move the slow swinging of its rusty gate." - -Her high-souled husband grieves to see her drooping under the jealous loss -of her strength and beauty, and, in his undoubting love, unable to suspect -that she fears to lose that love, - - "Wonders evermore that beauty's loss - To such a soul should seem so sore a cross, - Until one evening in that quiet hush - That lulls the failing day, when all the gush - Of various sounds seem buried with the sun, - He told his thought. - As winter streamlets run, - Freed by some sudden thaw, and swift make way - Into the natural channels where they play, - So leaped her young heart to his tender tone, - So answering to his warmth, resumed her own; - And all her doubt and all her grief confest." - -The unburdening of the sore, doubting heart and the tender, comforting, -loving assurance of Claud is one of the choicest scenes in the poem. Never -did youthful lover pour forth more impassioned utterances than fell from -the lips of that true man and noble husband. He tells her that her beauty -was but one of the "bright ripples dancing to the sun" glancing upon the -silver stream of his happy life, and continues the metaphor: - - "River of all my hopes thou wert and art; - The current of thy being bears my heart." - -And last of all, when she, still incredulous of his unswerving faith, sighs -her girlish doubts and moans for death, he with full heart and fervent -words repeats his tale of love and makes profession of love's boldest -offering, the sacrifice of his life, if it were the will of God, could she -return again "to walk in beauty as she did before;" and then he whispers to -her the thought that has arisen in his soul to answer the "wherefore" of -the dreadful accident: - - "It may be God, saw our careless life, - Not sinful, yet not blameless, my sweet wife - (Since all we thought of in our youth's bright May - Was but the coming joy from day to day), - Hath blotted out all joy to bid us learn - Now this is not our home; and make us turn - From the enchanted earth, where much was given, - To higher aims and a forgotten heaven." - -It is no little comfort in this age of sensual worldliness and practical -unbelief in the providence of God to find the voice of Christian philosophy -sounding yet clear above the grovelling utterances of a too often degraded -muse. - -The third part of our poem continues and exemplifies this thought. This -world is God's world; we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of -his hand. Bereavement, pain, unforeseen and unexplained sorrow belong to -life, and play their part in schooling the soul to higher aims. The heart -must learn to wait on God. "Peace will come in that day which is known unto -the Lord," says the author of the Imitation of Christ. We, too, can bring -our own experience to the proof, and know that a stronger hand and a wiser -heart has led and loved us. We quote but one extract from this third part; -it is the summary of the whole: - - "All that our wisdom knows, or ever can, - Is this: that God hath pity upon man; - And when his Spirit shines in Holy Writ, - The great word COMFORTER comes after it." - -To these sorrowing ones, bending beneath the cruel blow, and mourning over -blighted hopes, God sent a friend; His friend, the minister of His counsel -and His comfort, a holy monk. Let us transcribe his portrait: - - "Tender his words and eloquently wise; - Mild pure fervor of his watchful eyes; - Meet with serenity of constant prayer - The luminous forehead, high and broad and bare; - The thin mouth, though not passionless, yet still; - With the sweet calm that speaks an angel's will, - Resolving service to his God's behest, - And ever musing how to serve him best. - Not old, nor young; with manhood's gentlest grace; - Pale to transparency the pensive face, - Pale not with sickness, but with studious thought, - The body tasked, the fine mind overwrought; - With something faint and fragile in the whole, - As though 'twere but a lamp will hold the soul." - -Words of holy counsel, lessons of humble sanctifying obedience, mingled -with mild reproof, yet full of the deepest and friendliest sympathy, fall -from the lips of the good priest and charm the unquiet spirit to rest. -{231} -Such words had doubtless fallen upon her ears before, but she had only been -a hearer; now she was perforce a learner. How natural her complaint: - - "What had I done to earn such fate from Heaven?" - -And how deftly does the priest, wise in the counsels of God and in the -sorrows of the human heart, catch up the text and bring its argument home -to the questioner! "What have the poor done?" he asks in return, "what has -the babe done that is just born to die? .... what has the idiot done? .... -what have the hard-worked factory girls done?" (the verse says not -_factory_ girls, but implies it, a pretty little anachronism which we -blame not, for the lesson of the Lady of La Garaye was meant for our own -times.).... "what have the slandered innocent done?" And then he tells her, -in strong contrast to her own luxury and ease, of the number who sicken and -die, forsaken, uncheered by kind words, unaided by kind hands, wanting the -commonest comforts of health which become craving necessities for the sick, -and bids her know that - - "What we must suffer proves not what was done." - -The lady listened, and in her heart arose the wish to help the sick, the -aged, and the poor. God had chosen her to be one of his angels of mercy to -the suffering, and a minister of benediction to those that mourn. And, -choosing her, he called her to the trial, and led her, all unwilling yet, -through the fire of affliction. How her wish was accomplished and what -fruit it bore is quickly told: - - "Where once the shifting throng - Of merry playmates met, with dance and song, - Long rows of simple beds the place proclaim - A hospital, in all things but the name. - In that same castle where the lavish feast - Lay spread that fatal night, for many a guest - The sickly poor are fed! Beneath that porch - Where Claud shed tears that seemed the lids to scorch, - Seeing her broken beauty carried by, - Like a crushed flower that now has but to die, - The self-same Claud now stands and helps to guide - Some ragged wretch to rest and warm inside. - But most to those, the hopeless ones, on whom, - Early or late, her own sad-spoken doom - Hath been pronounced--the incurables--she spends - Her lavish pity, and their couch attends. - Her home is made their home; her wealth their dole; - Her busy courtyard hears no more the roll - Of gilded vehicles, or pawing steeds, - But feeble steps of those whose bitter needs - Are their sole passport. Through that gateway press - All varying forms of sickness and distress, - And many a poor worn face that hath not smiled - For years; and many a crippled child, - Blesses the tall white portal where they stand, - And the dear lady of the liberal hand." - -Nothing, we think, could be added to increase the beauty of this picture. -In noting the impressions made by the perusal of this charming poem one -cannot help calling attention to its healthful, elevated tone, and the -purity of thought which pervades the whole. It is a gem of poetic art which -all lovers of the true and beautiful must admire. It were needless to say -that even by our copious extracts we have not presented all that is worthy -of comment. There are very few verses, indeed, in the poem which do not -possess equal merit with those of our quotations. The deep pathos which -reigns throughout as its flowing rhythm glides smoothly along, is like the -murmuring of a brook through quiet woods on a sunny day, compelling the -chance wanderer to stop and pass a dreamy hour away by its leafy banks. -There is a singular air of peacefulness and repose pervading it that we -think to be its peculiar charm, and we envy not the reader who can rise -from its perusal without feeling that he has enjoyed a delightful feast for -both mind and heart. - --------- - -{232} - - Original - - Procession in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. - - -A pilgrimage to the places consecrated by the events in the life of our -Lord is, of necessity, full of the deepest interest. However familiar we -may be at home with the narrative of all that Christ has done for us, that -mighty work of love is invested with new force and power when we kneel at -the places where it was wrought--when we meditate on the incidents of our -redemption on the spot where it was effected. The offices of the Passion, -in Jerusalem, have, therefore, a more striking character than in other -lands. The ritual observances of the Catholic Church, everywhere so -touching, have in the Holy City the additional impressiveness of recalling -to memory events in the places where they occurred. - -Every day in the year there is a procession in the church of the Holy -Sepulchre, which is one of almost startling solemnity. Those who have been -privileged to take part in it can never forget the emotions it excited, and -which are renewed daily as the function proceeds. Although no language can -adequately express these feelings, yet a description of the procession -itself, with a reference to the circumstances in which it is made, may be -of advantage, and aid, however imperfectly, in the understanding of this -most impressive devotion. The detail of a liturgical service involving many -repetitions and sentences in Latin is necessarily somewhat dull; yet it is -hoped that the unusual character of the office about to be described will -have sufficient attraction for the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD to induce -them to peruse these pages. Should the writer furnish other sketches of his -pilgrimage to the Holy Land, they will probably be found of more general -interest than this paper. - -Late in the afternoon, compline being finished, the procession is formed in -the chapel of the Franciscans. Each person is furnished with a lighted -taper, which serves the double purpose of honoring the function and for -reading the book of the hymns and prayers. The first time anyone is present -a large wax candle is given him, and this he is permitted to take away as a -remembrance of the office; on subsequent occasions the smaller one is used, -which burns until the close of the service. The church being dark, it is -difficult to read without this light, which also adds much to the -impressiveness of the scene as the line of pilgrims stretches along. The -number of persons in the procession varies, being, of course, larger when -many strangers are in Jerusalem, as is the case at Easter. Some of the -Catholics of the city, and occasionally the sisters of St. Joseph, are -present, the priests and brothers of the convent being always there; thus -the whole office has dignity and is reverently gone through. - -While on the way from one station to the next, a hymn is sung; when the -place is reached, incense is used; the people all kneel; a versicle and -responsory are said, followed by a prayer, concluding with _Our -Father_ and _Hail Mary_. Of course, the whole office is in Latin, -and thus to ecclesiastics from every part of the world it has a familiar -appearance. - -Beginning in the Latin chapel, in front of the altar of the blessed -sacrament, the function opens with the antiphon, _O sacrum convivium_, -and the versicle, "Thou hast given them bread from heaven, having in itself -all sweetness." The prayer of the blessed sacrament, _Deus qui nobis_, -is said. In the same chapel, a few feet to the right of the high altar, is -the station and altar of the column of the flagellation of Christ. -{233} -A recess in the wall contains a portion of the column behind a grating of -iron. In going to this, the hymn _Trophos a crucis mystica_ is sung; -the antiphon and prayer, "Pilate took Jesus and scourged him, and delivered -him to them that he might be crucified. I was scourged all the day, and my -castigation was in the morning, Look down, we beseech thee, O Lord, upon -thy church which thou hast redeemed with thy precious blood, that it, being -always enriched, may obtain eternal rewards: who livest and reigneet -forever and ever. Amen." - -With the hymn _Jam crucem propter hominem_ the procession goes to the -prison of Christ, a dark place where, according to tradition, our Lord was -detained some time. Antiphon and prayer: "I brought thee forth from the -captivity of Egypt, Pharaoh being drowned in the Red sea, and thou hast -delivered me to this dark prison. Thou, O Lord, hast broken my bonds; to -thee will I sacrifice the host of praise. Loosen, we beseech thee, O Lord, -the chains of our sins, that, having been freed from the prison of this -body, we may behold the light of glory, through Christ our Lord. Amen." - -The hymn _Ecce nunc Joseph mysticus_ is sung as the procession moves -to the place of the division of the garments of Christ. Antiphon, etc.: -"The soldiers, therefore, when they had crucified Jesus, took his vestments -and made HERE four parts, to each soldier a part, and the tunic. They -divided HERE my vestments for themselves, and on my clothing they cast -lots. O God, who, through thine only-begotten Son, didst confer the -remedies of salvation on a fallen world, grant to us that, being freed from -vices and adorned with virtues, we may be presented in white clothing -before the tribunal of thy majesty. Amen." - -The procession, chanting the hymn _Crux fidelis inter omnes_, now -descends a flight of stone steps, passes through the chapel of St. Helena, -and down a second flight to the place where was found the holy cross, the -reward of the pious search of the mother of Constantine. Antiphon, etc.: "O -blessed cross, which alone wast worthy to bear the Lord and King of heaven! -Alleluia. This sign of the cross shall be in heaven when the Lord shall -come to judgment. O God, who didst HERE raise up a miracle of thy passion -in the finding of the glorious cross of salvation, grant that by the price -of this wood we may obtain the favor of eternal life. Amen." - -Returning now to the chapel of St. Helena, with the hymn, _Fortem virili -pectore laudemus omnes Helenam_, the people kneel in the centre of this -edifice, while the priest who leads the devotion goes to the chief altar, -which is near the place where the saintly empress waited while the search -for the holy cross was made below. This chapel belongs to the Armenians. -The antiphon, etc., are as follows: "Helena, the mother of Constantine, -came to Jerusalem that she might find the cross of the Lord. Alleluia! Pray -for us, O blessed Helena, that we may be made worthy of the promises of -Christ. Mercifully hear the prayers of thy family, O Lord, that as it -everywhere rejoices in the fervid study of blessed Helena, who here -joyfully found the wood of the holy cross so much desired, so, by her -merits and prayers, it may be able always to rejoice in heavenly glory. -Amen." - -The next station is that of the column of the crowning and mocking, in -going to which the hymn _Caoetus piorum exeat_ is sung. Antiphon, -etc.: "I gave thee a royal sceptre, and thou hast put on my head a crown of -thorns. Plaiting a crown of thorns, they put it on his head. O God, who, in -the humility of thy Son, hast lifted up the fallen world, mercifully grant -that, casting away the crown of pride, we may obtain the unfading crown of -glory, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." - -The procession now ascends the flight of step leading to Calvary, going -first to the place of the crucifixion, properly so called, where our Lord -was nailed to the cross. -{234} -The hymn _Vexilla Regis prodeunt_ is sung on the way from the place of -mocking. The antiphon, etc.: "They took Jesus, and led him forth, bearing -his cross: he went to the place called Calvary, in the Hebrew Golgotha, -where they crucified him. HERE they pierced my hands and my feet, and they -numbered all my bones. O Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, who, for -the salvation of the world, at the sixth hour, didst ascend the gibbet of -the cross on THIS Calvary, and for the redemption of our sins didst shed -thy precious blood, we humbly beseech thee that after our death thou mayest -grant to us joyfully to enter the gate of paradise: who livest and reignest -for ever and ever. Amen." - -A few steps to the left of this place is the spot where the cross was set -up, and where the great High Priest offered the sacrifice which taketh away -the sin of the world. Going to this, the hymn _Lustris sex qui jam -peractis_ is sung, the second verse of which recounts, word by word, -some of the incidents of the gospel narrative: - - "Hic acetum, fel, arundo, - Sputa, clavi, lancea, - Mite corpus perforatur, - Sanguis, unda profluit: - Terra, pontus, astra, mundus - Quo lavantur flumine!" - -The antiphon, etc.: "Now it was about the sixth hour, and darkness was over -all the land even to the ninth hour; and the sun was darkened, and the veil -or the temple was rent in the midst; and Jesus, crying with a loud voice, -said, 'Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit;' and, saying these -words, he HERE expired. We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee because -by thy holy cross thou didst HERE redeem the world." The prayer (said in a -low voice): "Look down, we beseech thee, O Jesus, upon this thy family for -which our Lord Jesus Christ did not hesitate to be delivered into the hands -of the executioners and made to undergo the torment of the cross: who with -thee liveth and reigneth, world without end. Amen." - -Chanting the hymn _Pange lingua gloriosi_, the priests and people now -descend to the stone of unction, where the Redeemer was wrapped in fine -linen after he had been taken down from the cross. This is midway between -Calvary and the scpulchre, and on a level with the floor of the great -church and the holy tomb. The nine verses of the hymn admirably express the -thoughts and feelings which crowd the mind and heart. Redemption is -accomplished, and through Christ's death we live. Antiphon, etc.: "Joseph -and Nicodemus took the body of Jesus, and HERE bound it in linen with -spices, as is the custom of the Jews to bury. Thy name is as oil poured -out; therefore have the young loved thee. O Lord Jesus Christ, who, -condescending to the devotion of thy faithful in thy most holy body, didst -permit it HERE to be anointed by them, that they might reverence thee the -true God, King, and Priest, grant that by the unction of thy grace our -hearts may be preserved from all infection of sin: who livest and reignest -for ever and ever. Amen." - -The joyful hymn _Aurora lucis rutilat_ is sung as the procession moves -on to the most glorious scpulchre where was laid the Hope of the world, and -whence he rose on Easter morn, triumphant over death and the grave. -Antiphon, etc.: "The angel here said to the women, 'Fear not; ye seek Jesus -of Nazareth crucified; he hath risen, he is not here: behold the place -where they laid him. Alleluia.' The Lord hath risen from this sepulchre, -alleluia, who for us hung upon the wood, alleluia. O God, who by the -triumphant resurrection of thy Son, didst here bestow the remedy of -salvation on the world, and, having conquered death, hast unlocked for us -the way of eternal life, by thine assistance further our earnest desires -which thou hast put into our hearts; through the same Christ our Lord. -Amen." - -{235} - -Then, going to the place where Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene in the -habit of the gardener, the hymn _Christus triumphum gloriae_ is sung. -Antiphon, etc.: "Jesus, rising early on the morning of the first day of the -week, appeared HERE to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had cast seven -demons, 'Mary, touch me not, for I have not yet ascended to my Father.' We -beseech thee, O Lord God, that we may be helped by the prayers of blessed -Mary Magdalene, at whose entreaty thou didst not only raise up her brother -who had been four days dead, but didst show thyself after thy resurrection -here as the living Lord: who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen." - -Lastly, going to the place where, according to tradition, Jesus appeared to -his holy mother (this station being in the chapel of the Latins, in front -of the altar of the blessed sacrament), the procession returns to the spot -whence it started, singing the hymn, - - "Jesum Christum crucifixum - Ob peccatorum crimina, - Hunc vidisti et flevisti, - O gloriosa Domina," etc. - -The above is an outline of the procession which is made every day in the -church of the Holy Sepulchre. But to have a full understanding of its -impressiveness, one must be in Jerusalem, and take part in it. In other -countries, when reading of the passion and death of our Lord, we are left -to imagine the appearance of places which are thousands of miles away; and -this consciousness of distance will ever hinder that vivid realization of -the incidents which may be had on the spot where they occurred. When the -word HIC (here) is said by the officiating priest, all bow down and kiss -the floor; and it is enough to melt a heart of stone to be so close to -these most sacred spots when the mention of what our Lord has here done and -suffered for our sins is made. There is no attempt to work upon the -imagination or excite the feelings. The singing and praying are in a -natural but reverent tone. It is felt that the devout Christian needs only -to be _here_ when the prayers are said, to have his heart subdued and -filled with penitence and adoring gratitude and love. - - ------- - - Original. - - At Threescore. - - - There was but one in all the world, - Fond heart, - To whom thou gayest all, nor kept - A part; - And that was John. - None e'er so gentle, nor so brave as he, - None other's arm so strong or sweet to me - To lean upon. - - 'Twas down upon the ocean shore - One day, - The heart I once had some one took - Away; - And that was John. - Strange moment! for it seemèd then to me - As if the rocks and sands and clouds and sea - And all were gone. - -{236} - - You understand, I do not mean - Quite all: - Some one was there, so handsome, straight, - And tall; - And that was John: - But he was all to me, and nothing there - Nor aught in this wide world with him could bear - Comparison. - - Long years have passed, and now my step - Is slow. - Though weak his arm, yet strong his heart, - I know, - To lean upon. - Beside me seated in his high-backed chair, - I see a tall old man with silvered hair; - And that is John. - - My day of life has always been - Most bright, - But now the shadows longer grow, - And night - Is coming on. - I fear it not, for when my course is run, - I look beyond the grave to meet with One - More dear than John. - - ------- - - Translated from the Spanish. - - The Revenge Of Conscience. - - - Though one brief spring restores to earth the flowers - Swept from her lap by autumn's stormy hours, - Back to man's breast a lifetime will not win - The heart's ease lost through one frail moment's sin. - - -White as a nest of gulls, in the cleft of a rock on the wild sea-shore, -gleams Cadiz from the concavity of her walls. So audaciously is she seated -in the very midst of the billows that the land reaches out an arm to retain -her. This slender arm of stone and sand, wearing La Cortadura, a fortress -constructed during the glorious war of independence, as a bracelet, -separates the violent waves of the ocean from the tranquil waters of the -harbor, and conducts to the city of San Fernando, which, situated in the -curve of the bay, opens its dock-yards of La Carraca as hospitals to the -vessels that return home, maltreated and bruised, from their perilous -expeditions. - -Poor wanderers, to whom the tempests are ever repeating what the blasts of -the world unceasingly say to mortals, "On, on!" When they reach their -country, they lay hold of her with their anchors, as children clasp the -necks of their mothers with their little hands. - -{237} - -Beyond the city of San Fernando, the beautiful and worthy neighbor of -Cadiz, with its splendid Calle Larga, and its houses solid and shining as -if built of massive silver, and beyond the bridge Zuazo, so ancient that -its construction is attributed to the Phoenicians, the road divides into -two branches the one on the left continuing to follow the curve of the bay, -and that on the right taking the direction of Chiclana. It enters this -pleasant town through a grove of white poplars, which, settled like hoary -patriarchs in the midst of green fields, seem by their whisperings to be -encouraging the weaker plants to strengthen themselves and stand like them -against the heavy south-west winds. The town is large, and divided into two -parts by the river Liro. - -From two neighboring heights it was overlooked in former times by a Moorish -tower on the one, and a Christian chapel on the other; symbols of its past -and present. Within a few years the tower has disappeared and the chapel -has become a ruin. - - There was a temple and an altar, where - The lonely heart might weep and lay its care: - I wept. Once more I passed that way, - And it was fallen to decay: - Whereat I wept again! - -The chapel was under the invocation of St. Anna. It was round and encircled -by a colonnade, which commanded the view, in all directions, of a -magnificent landscape. - -At the foot of the isolated and abandoned tower lay a cemetery. Mouldering -humanity creeping sympathetically into the shadow of the decaying ruin. -This tower--this seal of stone upon the archives of the place; this -inheritance of generations, which the district had guarded like the remains -of a dead chief, embalmed by the aroma of the flowers of the field; this -austere ruin, which had no longer any relations except with the departed, -who were turning to skeletons at its feet; with the birds of night which -hid themselves in its obscure recesses from the noise and light of day, and -with the winds that came to moan sadly through its branches--this -inoffensive tower could not escape modern vandalism. - -Neither respect for the memories it evoked, nor reverence for the burial -place it so appropriately guarded, nor the romantic in its aspect, nor the -historic in its origin, could avail it. They demolished it under the sage -protest that it was "ruinous." A ruin "ruinous!" A tower that bore the -centuries as you wear days, "ruinous, ruinous!" That petrified mass which -would have outlasted all your constructions of wood and clay! - -The chapel, also, closed and forsaken, has become the prey of destruction, -and its noble colonnade has fallen. Groves, convents, feudal castles, and -palaces, the very ruins are disappearing, and they are not even building -factories or planting orchards where they stood; to clothe the noble matron -Spain, at least with muslin and flowers, instead of the tissues and jewels -of which they despoil her. What, then, will remain to us? Pastures wherein -to breed the ferocious beast, whose contests afford the refined and gentle -diversion that enjoys, above all others, the favor of the people. My God! -can it be that the natural ferocity and cruelty of man, like the atmosphere -that discharges its electricity in thunder, lightning, and tempest, must -have vent and expression? - -In the times when Cadiz was the Rothschild among cities, times in which, -according to strangers of note and credibility, her merchants lived with -the pomp and splendor of ambassadors of kings, the greater part of them had -in Chiclana country houses, built and furnished with marvellous richness -and taste. Tarnished vestiges still remain of that elegant luxury to which -the coming of Napoleon's Frenchmen gave the death-blow. - -In the present epoch, in which we often see fulfilled the saying, "Ramparts -fall and dust heaps exalt themselves," when old men recount the splendors -of those days, _new_--we will not say _young_--men receive their -stories as tales of the thousand and one nights, with incredulity and -criticism alternating upon their lips. - -{238} - -In their opinion, gallantry, generosity, and munificence afford material -for an appendix to Don Quixote as fantastic virtues which can only exist in -over-excited brains. - -At the close of the last century, when the events which we are about to -relate began to take place, Chiclana was at the zenith of her splendor. -Cadiz shone with gold, and, like the sun, shed glory upon all her environs. -Nowhere now do they throw away doubloons as they then did here, with the -simple indifference of children tossing soap-bubbles into the air, and the -lordliness of princes who neither count nor value what they spend in -compliment to others. In this epoch occurred the incident which is told of -the celebrated Duchess of Alba and the youth, who, seeing twenty thousand -dollars upon her table, observed, in her hearing, that this sum, which to -her was such a trifle, would make a man's fortune. "Would you like to have -it?" asked the duchess. The youth admitted that he would. The lady sent him -the money and--closed her doors upon him. In these days the contrary would -have succeeded. The money would not have been given, nor would the doors -have been closed upon one who, by any means whatever, had acquired it. - -In one of the wide, cheerful streets of the above-named town stood a house -of more distinguished appearance than the others, though it consisted of -but one story, which was somewhat elevated from the ground and reached by a -flight of marble steps. The door was of mahogany, studded with great nails -of shining metal. The front of the house was surmounted by the arms of the -family, carved in marble. Nobility and riches seek each other; in former -times they were sisters, in these they are not even cousins. The house -porch, the court, and all the apartments, even to the inferior offices, -were paved with magnificent blocks of blue and white marble. Columns of -jasper supported the four galleries which surrounded the court, and in the -area, in the midst of towering plants and alabaster statues, a fountain -flowed unceasingly, singing the same pure and infantile melody to the bud -half opened in hope, and to the flower falling in leafless despair. Between -column and column, embowered in green and flowery tapestries of jassamine -and musk rose, hung the gilded cages of bright-hued birds. A canvas awning, -cut in points at the edges, and bound with red, shaded the court and -preserved its refreshing coolness. The walls of the parlor were of white -stucco upon a blue ground; the chairs and sofa were made of ebony, with -heavy silver ornaments and coverings of azure _gros de Tours_. The -furniture was of slight and simple form and in the Greek style, which the -Revolution had brought into favor, making it the order of the day, as it -had also introduced the Phrygian cap, the names of Antenor, Anacharsis, -Themistocles, Aristides, and other things less inoffensive than these. Upon -the table, which was supported by four straight-fluted legs, stood a clock, -constructed of white marble and bronze. At that time the taste for the -pastoral and idyllic in art had passed, dispossessed by the grave and -classic allegories which were presently to be superseded by the cannon, -banners, and warlike laurel wreaths with which Napoleon would dispel in -wide air the ardor and zeal of the Revolution. In its turn the epoch of the -Restoration, which put an end to the supremacy of the sword as the sword -had terminated the rule of the democracy, brought back monarchical ideas -and religious sentiments with the chivalry, loyalty, and ancient faith -which were to introduce the Romantic in literature and the Gothic in arts -and customs. Following closely upon these came the taste for the fashions -of the times called "of Louis the Fourteenth" and "Louis the Fifteenth." -For men are, like children, enthusiasts of the new, and ever trampling with -contempt upon the idol of the moment before. Shakespeare has said. -"Frailty, thy name is woman!" Well might he have added, "Fickleness, thy -name is man!" - -{239} - -The clock formed a group, composed of an effigy of time, under the figure -of an old man; two nude young girls with arms interlaced, leaning upon the -old man, and representing innocence and truth; and two other figures, -wrapped in dark veils, symbolizing sin and mystery flying from time, who, -with raised finger, appeared to threaten them. The effigy of time was well -and expressively executed; and when the clear and sonorous voice of the -hour, counting its dead sisters, was added to its expressive gesture, it -seemed like the warning voice of an austere patriarch, and could not fail -to affect him who, meditating upon the sense of the allegory, heard the -measured echo of its strokes. On each side of the clock was a bronze -candlestick, in the form of a negro standing upon a marble pedestal and -adorned with brazen chains. The negro carried upon his head and in his -hands baskets of flowers. In the centres of the flowers the candles were -set. The ceiling was painted to represent light, floating clouds of gray -and white, through which was seen a nymph of the air, apparently holding in -her hands the tasselled cords of azure silk which sustained an alabaster -lamp, destined to filter a light as mild and soft as that of the moon, a -light extremely flattering to female beauty, and therefore adopted for -select reunions. In the middle of the room, upon a mosaic stand, rested a -great glass globe. In it swam fishes of those lovely colors which the water -displays in emulation of the air that has its gorgeous birds, and the earth -that parades its charming flowers. Here they lived, silent and gentle, -unvexed by the circuit which bounded their action, like pretty idiots, -seeing everything with their great eyes, and comprehending nothing. The -globe was surmounted by a smaller one filled with flowers, of which there -was also a profusion arranged in jars in the recesses of the windows. The -windows were hung with lace-edged muslin curtains, like those now used, -except that the muslin was Indian instead of English, and the lace thread, -made by hand, instead of cotton woven. As it was summer time, only a dim -light was allowed to penetrate the drawn blinds. The atmosphere of the -apartment was perfumed with flowers and pastilles of Lima. - -Upon the sofa reclined a woman of extraordinary beauty. One alabaster hand, -hidden in a mass of auburn curls, supported her head upon the pillow of the -sofa. A loose cambric dress, adorned with Flanders lace, robed her youthful -and perfect form. Through the lace of her robe just peeped the point of a -little foot encased in a silken stocking and white satin slipper. At that -time no other shoe was used by ladies of distinction upon any occasion, and -luxury reached even to the wearing of lace slippers lined with colored -satin. - -The apostles of the last foreign fashion, admirers of the buskin, regard -with sovereign contempt this rich and elegant custom, which, in their eyes, -is guilty of two mortal sins--that of being old-fashioned, and that of -being Spanish. The lady's left hand was adorned with a splendid brilliant, -and held a cambric handkerchief of Mexican embroidery, with which, from -time to time, she dried a tear that slid slowly down her pearly cheek. - -The reader thinks that he divines the cause of this solitary tear shed by a -woman, young, beautiful, and surrounded by the evidences of a luxurious and -enviable position. He has decided that it must be the token of wounded -affection, and has guessed wrong. Respect for truth, even at the sacrifice -of admiration for the heroine of our story, obliges us to confess that this -tear was not of love, but of spite. Yes, that brilliant drop, falling from -eyes as blue as the sky of evening, gliding between those long, dark -lashes, and across those delicately glowing cheeks, was the evidence of -spite. - -{240} - -But before we proceed it is necessary to explain the cause of the ill-humor -of our heroine. - - - Chapter II. - - -The young lady we have been describing was called Ismena, and was the only -child of Don Iago O'Donnell, whose family, in common with many others, had -emigrated from Ireland in the time of William of Orange. After the -capitulation of Limerick, the troops, who belonged to the most noble -families of Ireland, entered the service of France and Spain. Philip the -First, as was to have been expected, welcomed them, and they formed, in -1709, the regiments of Ibernia and Ultonia, and, later, a third called the -Irlanda. These troops were commanded by James Stuart, duke of Berwick, -natural son of James the Second by Arabella Churchill, sister of the famous -Duke of Marlborough. The Duke of Berwick gained the battle of Almansa and -took Barcelona by assault, and the king rewarded his great services with -the dukedoms of Liria and Jerica, and made him a grandee of Spain. This -gallant general had two sons, the elder was naturalized in Spain and -inherited the titles of Berwick, Liria, and Jerica, to which he afterward -united, by his marriage, that of the noble house of Alba, which had -descended to a female. The second son established himself in France, where -his descendants still exist and bear the title of dukes of Fitz-James. - -The above-mentioned regiments are represented in our days by the -descendants of the loyal men who composed them, for, as we have been -informed, there are now ninety Irish surnames in the Spanish army, names -which, for their traditional loyalty and bravery, and their hereditary -nobility, honor those who bear them. - -Don Iago O'Donnell married a Spanish lady, and his daughter, Ismena, united -in her person the beauty of both types. Her slight and graceful Andalusian -form was clothed in the white rose-tinted skin of the daughters of misty -Erin, to which the impassible coldness of its possessor gave a transparent -pearliness and purity that nothing ever disturbed. Her large violet eyes -beamed from beneath their dark lashes with the haughty and expressive -glance of the south. Her carriage, though somewhat lofty, was free and -natural. Naturalness is, indeed, but another name for that "Spanish grace" -which has been so justly famed and eulogized. The irresistible attraction -which is born of it, and which, in former times, women shed around them as -the flame sheds light and the flowers perfume, they owed to the men, who -used to abhor whatever was put on, affected, or studied; anathematizing it -in a masculine way under the expressive epithet "monadas." [Footnote 50] In -naturalness there is truth, and without truth there is no perfection; in -naturalness there is grace, and without grace there is no real elegance. -Taste at present appears to lie in the opposite extreme, as if the -Florentines should dress their _Venus di Medicis_ as a show figure. - - [Footnote 50: Monkey airs, splashness.] - -The spirit of Ismena was far less richly endowed than her person. She -possessed the cold, calm temperament of her father united to the haughty -and domineering disposition she had inherited from her mother, and these -qualities were exaggerated in her by the overbearing pride of the rich, -beautiful, and spoiled child. Her mind was ever occupied in framing for -herself a future as illustrious and brilliant as those which -fortune-tellers prognosticate, and so she rejected all the lovers who -offered her their affections, not one of them appearing likely to realize -her dreams of greatness. But changes of fortune, like the transformations -in magic comedies, come unlooked for and suddenly. Ismena's father lost his -whole fortune within a few months; thanks to the treachery of the English, -who seized so many of our ships and so much treasure before making a formal -declaration of war with Spain. -{241} -The fatal war which brought upon us the fatal family compact! Don Iago, who -had just lost his wife, retired, ruined, to his country house in Chiclana. -But this retreat did not long remain to him, for the house was advertised -for sale by his creditors. The first person who presented himself as a -purchaser was the General Count of Alcira. General Alcira had just returned -from a long residence in America. Though he counted but fifty-five years, -he appeared much older in consequence of the destructive action of that -climate, which, with its hot miasms, impairs the European even as it -corrodes iron. Notwithstanding his age, the general had become the heir of -a young nephew, from whose title the rule of succession excluded females. -On his return he went to Seville, his native city, where he was received by -his sister-in-law (who looked upon him as one come to deprive her and her -daughters of the riches and title they had possessed) with such bitterness -and hostility that, although he was one of the most generous of men, he was -justly indignant, and determined to leave Seville and establish himself in -Cadiz, and he decided well. - -At that period, Seville, the staid, religious matron, with rosary in hand, -still more the buckram stays and the high powdered promontory--that, -without the hair, must have been a weight in itself--and the hoops with -which a lady could pass with ease only through a very wide door. At her -austere entertainments she played Baciga or Ombre with her canons, her -judges, her aldermen; and her cavaliers. She had no theatre, being withheld -therefrom by a religious vow. She had for illumination only the pious -lights that burned before her numerous pictures of saints. She had no -pavements, no _Paseo de Cristiana_. - -Of course there were no steamboats, those swift news-bearers which have -since united in such close friendship these sister cities, the twin jewels -of Andalusia, Cadiz, even more beautiful than she is now, wore her drapery -in the low-necked Greek fashion which we still see in portraits of the -beauties of those days. Cadiz, the seductive siren of naked bosom and -silver scales, bathed in a sea of water, a sea of pleasure, and a sea of -riches. She knew well how to unite the art and culture of foreign elegance -with the dignity, ease, and spontaneity of Spanish grace, and, though the -fair Andalusian had adopted certain things and forms that were foreign, she -was none the less essentially Spanish in her delicate taste and -circumspection, and her attachment to her own nationality. - -For, strange to tell, in those days the pompous and high-sounding -assumption of the "Spanish" which now fills the unholy sheets of the public -press, and resounds through all discourses like hollow and incessant -thunders, was unknown. It did not blare in lyric compositions, nor was it -made the instrument of a party for the promotion of such or such ideas, nor -was the bull Señorito [Footnote 51] chosen with enthusiasm as its symbol. - - [Footnote 51: The famous bull that, in 1850, in Seville, fought and - killed a large tiger.] - -But that which was Spanish was had with simplicity, as the brave man has -his intrepidity without proclaiming it, and as the fields have their -flowers without parading them, Spanish patriotism was not upon the lips, -but in the blood, in the being; it was the genius of the people; and it -became them so well, was so refined and generous, so gentle and chivalric, -so in harmony with the gracious southern type, that it came to be the -admiration and delight of strangers. But we have apostatized from it, do -not understand it, hold it in slight esteem, and, unlike the ass that -covered himself with the rich golden skin of the lion, we, more stupid than -he, instead of smoothing and cultivating that which nature has bestowed -upon us, wrap ourselves in one that is inferior to it. -{242} -Then the most candid gayety blended with an exquisite refinement pervaded -social intercourse. There were neither clubs nor casinos, only reunions, in -which gallantry was governed by the code contained in these ancient verses -of Suarez: - - "You are feared and worshiped; - You to be obeyed: - We saw humble worshipers, - Of your frowns afraid. - You the lovely conquerors; - We your bondsman true: - Ladies dear in vanquishers, - We are slaves to you. - You the praised and honored; - Fairest under sun: - We the lowly servitors, - By your smiles undone." - -The expression "to acquire a manner" was not then in use, but the practice -of good manners was a matter of course and of instinct. The officers of the -marine, brave and gentlemanly as they are now, but richer and more gallant, -constituted the chief ornament of the society of Cadiz. They had formed -themselves into a gay fraternity, at the head of which were the officers of -the man-of-war San Francisco de Paula, and which, in playful allusion to -the motto of the saint of this name--Caritas bonitas--styled itself "La -devota Hermandad de las Caritas Bonitas" [Footnote 52] (The devoted -Brotherhood of Beauty). In the theatre the national pieces of our own poets -were played, and the farces of Don Ramon de la Cruz were enthusiastically -applauded: at the brilliant fairs of Chiclana the inhabitants of Cadiz and -Puerto congregated like flocks of gorgeous birds; and Cadiz retained, long -years after, charms sufficient to inspire the song of Byron, that -discriminating appreciator of the beautiful. - - [Footnote 52: Caritas bonitas, Pretty faces.] - -The General Count of Alcira desiring to buy a country house, that of Don -Iago O'Donnell was proposed to him, and be went to look at it. The -unfortunate proprietor threw it open to his inspection as soon as he -presented himself. The count was charmed with all that he saw in the -elegant mansion we have already described, and, above all, with the -daughter of its master, whom they encountered writing in a retired cabinet -that received light and fragrance from the garden. She was dressed in deep -mourning, and weeping bitterly while she answered letters from two of her -friends who had just married--one an English lord, and the other a nobleman -of Madrid. How bitterly those letters caused Ismena to feel the contrast -between the lot of her friends and that which compelled her, single and -poor, to abandon even this house, the only thing that remained to her of -the brilliant past. - -Her tears moved and interested the good general to such an extent that, -having bought the house, he begged the occupant to remain in it and admit -him, the buyer, as a member of his family and the husband of his daughter. -It is hardly necessary to add that Don Iago received this proposition as a -message of felicity, and that his daughter hailed it as a means of escaping -lower depths of the abyss into which fortune had hurled her. To paint the -rage of the aunt's sister-in-law when she heard of the projected alliance -would be a difficult task. She spread calumnies upon Ismena, ridiculed the -marriage, and spit out her venom in bitter sarcasms, prophesying that the -union of the ambitious beggar with the worn-out valetudinarian would remain -without issue; in short, that Providence would mock their calculations, and -cause the title, for lack of a male inheritor, to return to her own family. -The excessive pride of Ismena, more than ever susceptible since her -misfortune, was stung beyond endurance by those gibes and revilings. And -she was still more chagrined when, after having been married two years -without giving birth to a child, she seemed to see the prophecies of her -enemy realized. It appeared that God would deny the blessing of children to -the wife who desired them not from the holy instinct of maternal love, but -to satisfy a base pride and a contemptible covetousness; not for the -blessed glory of seeing herself surrounded by her offspring, but from the -haughty and miserable desire of humiliating a rival--of triumphing over an -enemy. -{243} -It is at this time and under the influence of these feelings that we have -introduced Ismena, Countess of Alcira, bathed in tears. And for this we say -that these drops, so cold and bitter, were not tokens of wounded love, but -of rage and spite. - - - Chapter III. - - -The general had learned that the house in Chiclana was for sale from his -secretary, who was the son of Don Iago's housekeeper. A few words will -explain this. - -The general, when young, had for many years an orderly whom he loved well. -The Spanish orderly is the model domestic, the ideal servant. He is wanting -in nothing, has always more than enough, and does whatever is asked of him -unquestioningly and with pleasure. If he were bidden, he would, like St. -Theresa, plant rotten onions through the same spirit of blind obedience. He -has the heart of a child, the patience of a saint, and the attachment of -that type of devoted affection, the dog. Like him he loves and cares for -all that belongs to his master, and, most of all, for his children, if he -has any. And to such a degree does he carry this devotion, that one of our -celebrated generals has said that "an orderly makes the very best of dry -nurses." He has no will of his own, does not know what laziness is, is -humble and brave, grateful and obliging. And in the household, where his -coming may have occasioned the natural irritation and repulsion caused by -whatever invades the domestic circle, his departure is always sincerely -felt. - -Before he left Spain the general, then a captain, had lived for a long time -with his orderly in the greatest friendship, without the latter having lost -the least grain of his respect for his chief. When the general went to -America, his orderly, to the great grief of both, left him, and returned to -his native town of Chiclana to marry the bride who, with a constancy not -unusual in Spain, had waited for him fifteen years. A few years later the -orderly died leaving one child, a son, to the care of his disconsolate -widow. The poor woman, accompanied by a little niece she had adopted, took -service with Don Iago O'Donnell. As for the boy, who was godson to the -general, the latter sent for him, had him educated under his own care, and -afterward made him his secretary. In this capacity he brought him back to -Spain. Lázaro--so he was named--was one of those beings who are sealed by -nature with the stamp of nobility, and who, aided by circumstances, become -unconscious heroes by simply following their natural instincts. - -Having learned from his mother that the house in which she lived was for -sale, he had informed the general, who bought it, and with it his young and -beautiful wife. - -A beautiful woman she was; as fair and delicate as an alabaster nymph; as -cold, also, and as void of feeling; a being who had never loved anything -but herself; insipid and without sweetness; a jessamine flower that had -never felt the rays of the sun. - -Later in the afternoon, an attendant called Nora entered the room in which -we found Ismena, to open the windows. Nora had been Ismena's nurse, and had -never left her. She was a proud and cunning woman, and had done much to -develop the perverse dispositions of the girl. - -"Always weeping," she said with a gesture of impatience at the sight of -Ismena's tears. "You will lose your good looks, and when your husband dies, -all you have beside will be gone, youth, consideration, and wealth. You -will then have no recourse but to turn pious and spend your days dressing -up the holy images." - -"I know too well that I shall lose everything, that is why I weep," replied -Ismena. - -{244} - -"And who says that your lot may not be different?" answered Nora. "It is -not your sister-in-law that has the disposition of your future; you -yourself can do more to make your fortune than she to unmake it. Hope is -the last thing lost, but then one must not cross one's arms while they can -be of use." - -"Idle talk," returned Ismena. "You know that my hopes are as vain as my -marriage is sterile." - -"It will amount to the same thing," said Nora, "whether you give birth to a -son or adopt one." - -The lady fixed her great blue eyes upon the woman as she exclaimed, "The -count would never consent!" - -"He need not know it," replied Nora. - -"A fraud, a crime, a robbery! Are you beside yourself?" - -"All that sounds very lofty, yet in reality you will only be doing some -poor wretch an act of charity. Your nieces are well married; your -sister-in-law has a rich jointure, and does not need the count's money. If -they desire to have it, it is through ambition, and that you may not enjoy -it." - -"Never! never!" said Ismena. "Better to lose rank and position than become -the slave of a secret which may bring us to dishonor. Never!" she repeated, -shaking her head as if she wished to shake the fatal thought from her mind. - -"I only shall know the secret, and I alone will be responsible. So it will -be more secure in my breast than in your own." - -"You will have to employ another person." - -"Yes, but without confiding in him. I have already found the person. Your -husband is about to embark for Havana. When he returns, be will find a son -here." - -"Nora, Nora! there is no wickedness of which you are not capable!" - -"I am capable of anything that may result in benefit to you." - -"But to deceive a man like the count would be the most unpardonable of -crimes!" - -"Ismena, I have often heard you sing: - - 'Deceit, a faithful friend art thou; - 'Tis truth that is our bane. - Pain without sickness she doth give; - Thou, sickness without pain.' - -But to-day you appear to be more high flown than the poets themselves." - -"But the text alludes to love quarrels." - -"It is very applicable to everything else in life. As if you had never -known the case I have suggested to be put into practice; and is it not a -thousand times worse when combined with infidelity?" - -At this moment the count entered. "Ismena, my child," he said, approaching -his wife, "I have come to take you out, your friends are already waiting -for you in the Cañada. How is it that these lovely spring afternoons do not -inspire you with a desire to go out and enjoy the free, balmy air?" - -"I dislike to walk, and people worry me," answered Ismena, who had lost -color at sight of her husband. - -"You look pale, my child," replied the count with tenderness, "and for some -time past you have seemed low-spirited. Are you not well?" - -"There is nothing the matter with me," answered Ismena. - -"At most," said Nora, "your sickness is not one that requires the attention -of a doctor." And she glanced at the count with a meaning smile. - -Irritation and shame sent the hot blood mounting to Ismena's face. - -"Nora," she exclaimed, "are you crazy? Be silent!" - -"I will be silent, sir count, for, as the saying is, 'the more silent the -coming the more welcome the comer.'" - -In the general's benevolent face glowed the light of a pure paternal hope. - -"Is this certain?" he said, looking tenderly at his wife. - -{245} - -"Sir," said Nora, "have you not noticed for some time past her want of -appetite and her general languor without apparent cause? _She_ does -not believe it, and will not be convinced, but I who have more experience -am sure." - -"Nora, it is false!" exclaimed Ismena, appalled. - -"Time will show," replied Nora, with perfect composure. - -"Time!" repeated Ismena indignantly. - -At this moment they were interrupted by six deep measured strokes of the -clock. - -"That fixes the time for the event," said Nora, with an affected laugh; -"six months from now, it says." - - - Chapter IV. - -Six months after these scenes the general, in an affectionate letter to his -wife, announced his return from Havana, whither he had been upon important -business. Ismena went to Cadiz to meet him, accompanied by a nurse who -carried in her arms the supposed heir. - -This child had been brought from the Iocluso, [Footnote 53] and the secret -of the deception was known only to Ismena, to Nora, and to Lázaro; the -latter being the person selected by Nora to obtain the infant from the -asylum. How she had been able to persuade the good young man to bend -himself to her wicked plot can be understood only when it is known that he -believed it to have been sanctioned and arranged by his master. Lázaro -doubted until Nora, who had foreseen his opposition, and was prepared to -meet it, showed him the following passages in the last letter the general -had written to his wife: - - [Footnote 53: Establishment for the reception of abandoned infants.] - - "The sails which are to bear me from you, and, with you, from all the - sweetness of my life, are already spread. Adieu, therefore: I hope on my - return to find you with a child in your arms, which will render our - happiness complete. - - "As I have told you before, you may, in the affair of which we know, and - in all other's, trust Lázaro, in whom I place the most implicit - confidence." - -The letter ended with some tender expressions and the signature of the -general. - -Nora, quick to perceive the use she could make of the above passages in -proving to Lázaro that the "affair of which we know," which was in reality -a matter relating to money, was the same she had in hand, had kept the -letter. - -Lázaro, therefore, with the deepest sorrow, but the most entire devotion to -his benefactor, brought the innocent little one; which thus passed from the -bosom of an abandoned woman into the hands of a traitoress. - -A little before the time at which we take up the thread of our story the -babe had been reclaimed, and the administrator of the asylum had demanded -it of Lázaro. Nora could find no means of escape from the difficulty this -demand occasioned them but to send Lázaro out of the country. Ismena also -vehemently urged his departure, and the devoted victim consented to go, -knowing that his absence, without apparent cause and without explanation, -would break the heart of his mother and of his young cousin, to whom he was -soon to have been married. - -He embarked secretly in a small coasting vessel bound for Gibraltar, which, -being overtaken by a tempest off the perilous coast of Conil, was capsized, -and all on board were lost. - -This catastrophe, of which she believed herself to be the cause, overcame -Ismena, and her suffering was augmented by a threatening presentiment that -would allow her to fix her thoughts neither upon the past nor future -without shuddering. The one reproached and the other appalled her. - -{246} - -Alas for the wretch that between these two phantoms drags out a miserable -existence! Happy is he who, by keeping his conscience pure, preserves, amid -misfortunes and sorrows, his peace of soul, the supreme good which God has -promised man in this exiled state. - - - Chapter V. - -For many years the beautiful house at Chiclana remained unoccupied, the -countess obstinately refusing to go there to enjoy the spring. Alas! for -her there was neither spring nor pleasure, for, through divine justice, the -results of her crime, a crime committed in cold blood and without a single -excuse, weighed heavily upon her, as if the Most High had wished, by the -force of circumstances, to impress upon her hard and daring spirit that -which the sentiments of humanity had failed to communicate. - -And these circumstances were indeed terrible, for she had borne the count, -successively, two sons, whose birth filled the heart of their mother with -consternation. To increase her chagrin, she saw the oldest of the three -boys was growing up beautiful, brave, and sincere, occupying the first -place in her husband's heart. For not only did Ramon--so the boy was -called--sympathize with the general, but the equitable old man, seeing the -hostility with which the countess regarded him, redoubled his -manifestations of interest and affection toward the victim of her ill -temper, and thus, by the force of a terrible retribution, God had brought -remorse to that hard heart, and remorse had driven her from the house in -which everything reminded her of her crime. - -Remorse! Thou that bindest the temples with a crown of thorns, and the -heart with a girdle of iron prongs; thou that makest the sleep so light and -the vigil so heavy; thou that interposest thyself to cloud the clear glance -that comes from the soul to the eyes, and to embitter the pure smile that -rises from the heart to the lips; thou so silent in face of the seductive -fault, so loud in thy denunciations when it is past, and there is no -recalling it. Cruel and inexorable remorse! by whom art thou sent? Is it by -the spirit of evil, that he may rejoice in his work and drive guilty man to -despair; or by God, to warn him, in order that he may yet expiate his -faults? For through thee two ways are opened to the soul--the way of death -and the way of repentance. Weak wills and lukewarm spirits fluctuate -between the two, shrinking alike from the furnace which would purify them, -and the bottomless sea of anguish in whose bitter abysses the impenitent -soul must writhe eternally. - -These agonies to which Ismena was a prey, this remorse, this undying worm, -had gnawed at her heart and life like an incurable cancer, and her tortures -augmented in proportion as she felt her end approaching. In a continual -struggle with conscience, which cannot be compounded with by human reasons -or worldly purposes, because it is in itself a reason from God; every day -more undecided whether to enter upon the course it indicated or to follow -the path into which her pride had led her, Ismena, tearful alike of the -fiery furnace and of the dreadful abyss, was approaching death as a -criminal approaches the scaffold, wishing at the same time to lengthen the -distance and to shorten it. When her end seemed near, the doctors insisted, -as a last recourse, that she should try the air of the country, and the -house at Chiclana was prepared for the reception of its proprietors. The -most exquisite neatness was restored throughout. The awning once more -covered the court, the birds twittered in their gilded cages, and the -plants throve and bloomed, though Maria no longer sang as she watered them. - -Announced by the sound of its bells, the carriage slowly approached and -stopped at the door. But she who descended from it, and, supported by the -general and a physician, dragged herself wearily through the marble portal -like a corpse entering its sumptuous mausoleum, is only the wasted shadow -of the once brilliant Ismena. -{247} -At twenty-eight she had lost all the brightness of youth, her splendid eyes -were dimmed and cast down, her golden locks had become gray, and her white -and faded skin was like a shroud that covers a skeleton. A few years had -sufficed to produce this change; for, instead of the gentle and reluctant -hand of time, it had been wrought by the destructive talon of suffering. -The countess was borne to a sofa, upon which she lay for a long while so -prostrated that she appeared unconscious of all that surrounded her. But -when left alone with Nora, she became feverish and agitated, and called for -Maria. Nora, foreseeing the violent shock the sight of this poor old woman, -the unfortunate victim of her fatality, must produce, would have put her -off; but the countess repeated the demand with so much exasperation that it -was necessary to obey. When Maria came in, Ismena extended her arms, and, -embracing her convulsively, laid her burning head upon the bosom of the -faithful friend who had witnessed her birth. But Maria was serene, for in -that bosom beat a pure heart. Her eyes had lost their former expression or -cheerful happiness, but still shone with the light of inward peace. - -"Maria," exclaimed Ismena at last, "how have you been able to bear your -misfortune?" - -"With the resignation which God gives when he is asked for it, my lady," -replied the good woman. - -"O blessed sorrows with which it is not incompatible!" was the agonized cry -of Ismena's heart. - -"I told you one day, my lady, that my son filled me with pride; and God has -permitted that this son, my boast and my glory, should be defamed by all -the appearances of a crime." - -"Appearances!" said Nora. "Who says that?" - -"Every one," answered Maria with gentle firmness, and, after a moments' -pause, she continued with the same serenity: "A profound mystery hides from -my eyes, as from those of all others, the circumstances of his flight; but, -if anyone has foully caused it, may God forgive him, as I do! He and I know -that my son was not--could not be--a criminal; this is enough for me; I -will be silent and submit." - -"And your motherly conviction does not deceive you!" exclaimed Ismena, -falling back upon the pillows of the sofa. - -They carried her to her couch, attributing her exhaustion to the excitement -and fatigue of the journey. - -Her agitation having been gradually calmed by a narcotic, she was once more -left in the care of the nurse. - -The general, with delicate fore-thought, had caused the flow of the -fountain to be stopped, in order that the uncertain repose of his wile -might not be disturbed by the murmur of its water. But the clock in the -parlor struck twelve--twelve warning notes from the lips of time. As if the -old man had counted with inflexible memory the twelve years she had -survived her crime; the twelve years passed in luxury and surrounded by an -areola of respect and public consideration, since, in sacrificing -conscience to pride, she had also sacrificed the life and fair fame of a -noble and innocent man. - -Ismena awoke with a start and sat upright in her bed, her perplexed glances -wandering in all directions, and a wild fever burning in her veins. A -devouring inquietude possessed her; the weight upon her breast suffocated -her. She sprang from the couch and rushed to the window; for, like Margret -in the "Faust" of Goethe, she was suffocating for air. Moonlight and -silence reposed without in a tranquil embrace. So profound was the calm -that it weighed upon the burdened soul of Ismena like the still but -oppressive atmosphere which precedes the tempest. - -{248} - -She leaned her burning forehead against the window bars. The court lay -black beneath--black but gilded; an emblem of her life. Then from a -distance there came to her ears two voices, blended, like faith and hope, -in prayer. They were the voices of Maria and Piedad reciting the rosary. -There was something deeply solemn in the sweet monotony with which the -words, without passion, without variation, without terrestrial modulations, -rose to heaven, as the smoke rises from the incense of the altar, gently, -without color, without impetuosity, as if drawn upward by celestial -attraction. Something very impressive in those words, thousands of times -repeated because thousands of times felt, in those petitions which are a -verbal tradition from Jesus Christ and his apostles; words so perfect and -complete in themselves, that all the progress and all the enlightenment of -the human mind have vainly endeavored to improve them. - -At what wretched variance was Ismena's soul with the grave and tranquil -spirit of those words! She longed to unite in them, but could not! - -"O my God!" she cried, withdrawing from the window, "I cannot pray." - -But presently, drawn by the sacred and irresistible attraction, she -returned. She heard Maria pronounce these words: "For the repose of the -soul of my son Lázaro." And then the prayer of the two pious women -continued without other departure from the accustomed words. - -"Ah! holy God!" exclaimed Ismena, wringing her hands, "my voice is not -worthy to unite with these pure tones which rise to thee unsoiled by guilt -and unchecked by remorse!" She prostrated herself with her face to the -floor, and remained until the last "amen" had mounted to heaven; then, as -she rose, shrinking from herself as from a spectre, her eyes fell upon -Nora, who had fallen asleep in a chair. She approached, and, clutching her -with that right hand, once so beautiful, but now like the claw of a bird of -prey, "You asleep!" she cried. "Iniquity asleep while innocence watches and -prays! Wake up, for your repose is more horrible than your crime! You see -her whom you rocked in her peaceful cradle entering--led by your infamous -suggestions--into her coffin, and you sleep while she is agonizing! What do -you see in the past? An unpunished crime; and you sleep! What do you see in -the present? A usurpation, a robbery, a crime committed and continued from -day to day in cold blood; and you sleep! What do you behold in the future? -The divine and universal justice of God; so sweet to the upright, so -terrible to the criminal; and you sleep! But this justice will yet cause to -fall upon your head some of the weight, which oppresses mine! Bear, then, -in addition to God's condemnation, the curse of her you corrupted! For I am -the most guilty of women, and, Nora, Nora, but for you I should never have -been what I am!" - -Alarmed by Nora's cries, all the household hurried to the room to find the -countess in a frightful and convulsed state bordering upon madness. Nora, -too, was confused and incoherent, but this was attributed to her grief for -the approaching death of her mistress. - - - Chapter VI. - -During the following day the sick woman remained in a state of terrible -agitation, and at night the doctors were obliged again to administer a -powerful narcotic, which caused her to fall into a deep sleep. - -The count was occupied in arranging some papers that were scattered upon an -antique ebony escritoire, ornamented in its various compartments with -exquisite carved work and paintings. In it Ismena kept her papers. It had -been opened that afternoon by her order to take out the writing materials -she had demanded. - -{249} - -Ismena had learned English from her father, to whom that tongue was -perfectly familiar, and, as the husband replaced the papers, he fixed his -eyes sadly upon a translation she had begun, grieved to think that she -would never finish it. It was from "Hamlet," and his glance rested upon the -last lines she had written--the monologue of King Claudius in the third -act. The writing was indistinct, as if traced by a trembling hand. The -translation, in which one familiar with the original would have noted some -voluntary omissions, ran as follows: - - "My crime is already rank; it calls to heaven. Upon it weighs the first - curse that entered the world--that of the fratricide! My desire and my - will impel me to pray, and yet I cannot, for the weight of my crime is - greater than the force of my intention, and, like a man in whom two - powers contend, I vacillate between ceding to the pressure of my guilt or - giving myself up to my good intentions. But for what is mercy, if not to - descend upon the brow of the sinner? And has not prayer the double virtue - of preventing a fall and of lifting the fallen by obtaining his pardon? - Then will I lift my eyes to heaven. But what form of prayer is - appropriate to my crime? Can I ask and hope for forgiveness? Is there - water enough in the gentle clouds to wash the blood from the hand of the - fratricide? Is there remission for him who continues in the enjoyment of - the benefits of his sin--his queen, his crown, his vain-glory? Ah! no, - there cannot be! The gilded hand of iniquity may sink justice in the - corrupted currents of the world, and the very price of guilt may buy the - law of man. But there, on high, it is not so: there artifice obtains - nothing and falsehood is of no avail: there, in the kingdom of truth, the - deed will stand naked, and the sinner will have to be his own accuser. - What, then, remains to us? To try the virtue or repentance? Ah! yes, it - can do all. But, alas! if the sinner would repent and cannot? O wretched - state! O bosom black as death! O soul, that in trying to free thyself - entangled thyself the more in the meshes of thy sin!--angels, hasten to - its aid!--melt, heart of steel!--inflexible knees, be bent! Alas! the - words have flown, but wings are wanting to the heart; and the words that - reach heaven without the heart find no entrance there!" - -This imperfect translation, though it gave but a faint idea of the -beautiful and elevated poetry of the writer, filled the general with -admiration, for his was a mind accessible to all things beautiful and good. -But when he glanced at his wife, who lay so pale upon her white bed, like a -withered lily upon the snow, he reflected in all simplicity: "Why seek -these pictures of crime and passion? Why should the dove imitate the boding -cry of the owl? Why should the gentle lamb try to repeat the roar of the -wounded and bloody lion?" - -Having put the papers in their place, he seated himself at the foot of his -wife's bed, and lifted his heart to God in a fervent petition for the life -of her he loved. - -The alcove in which Ismena lay opened into the parlor, and at this moment, -with the pertinacity of a recollection always repulsed yet for ever -returning, the clock struck eleven. Its metallic strokes, vibrating and -pausing in the silence, suggested the idea of justice knocking at a closed -door--justice, against whom there is no door that can remain for ever -closed! - -These clear sounds startled Ismena, and she awoke with a smothered moan. - -The general, alarmed by her wild looks and confused words, approached, and, -encircling her with his arms, said: - -"Compose yourself, Ismena, for you are better; the healthy sleep you have -had for several hours is restoring your strength." - -"Have I been asleep?" she murmured. "Asleep on the brink of my sepulchre as -if it offered me rest! Asleep when so little time remains to arrange my -accounts in this world! Sit down, sir, for so I will address you, and not -as my husband. I am not worthy to be your wife. I do not wish to talk to -you as to a companion, but as a judge whose clemency I implore." - -{250} - -The general, taking no notice of these strange words, which he attributed -to delirium, endeavored to tranquillize his wife, telling her to put off -the explanations she wished to make until she should be stronger; but -Ismena persisted in being heard, and continued: - -"I am about to die, and I leave all the good things of this world without -sorrow; all except one, that I still desire and would fain carry with me to -the grave. You, who have been to me father, husband, and benefactor, do not -deny what none but you can give! For that which I implore, sir, is your -forgiveness." - -The general, as he listened, became more and more confirmed in the belief -that his wife was raving, and again begged her not to agitate herself as -she was doing. But Ismena only implored him the more earnestly to listen -without interrupting her. - -"If a woman," she said, "who has expiated a crime by all that remorse can -inflict of torture and ruin; by the loss of health, of peace, and of life; -if this wretch, in her dying agony and despair, can inspire the least -compassion, oh! you who have been the most generous of men, you who have -strewn my life with flowers, have one branch of olive for the hour of my -death! Hear, without repulsing me, without deserting me in my last moments, -without making my last agony more intolerable by your curse, a confession -which will prove to you that my heart is not entirely perverted, since I -have the courage to make it." - -A cold sweat stood upon the forehead of the dying woman; her stiffening -fingers worked convulsively; the words issued from her lips more -interruptedly and fainter, like the last drops of blood from a mortal -wound. Nevertheless, making one last heroic effort, she went on. - -"I know that I am about to stab you to the heart, but by this means only -can I die at peace with God. Here," she continued, drawing a sealed paper -from under her pillow, "is a declaration made by me, for the purpose of -preventing a dishonest usurpation, and signed by two reverend witnesses, -which will prove to you that--Ramon--is not our son!" On hearing these -words, the general sprang from his chair, but, overwhelmed with grief and -astonishment, sank back again, exclaiming: - -"Ramon! Ramon not my son! Whose, then, is he?" - -"Only God knows, for his wretched parents abandoned him; he is a -foundling." - -"But with what motive?" The general paused a moment and then continued with -indignation: "I see the motive!--ambition!--pride! Oh! what iniquity!" - -"Have pity on my misery!" implored Ismena, wringing her hands. - -"You are a base woman!" cried the general, with all the indignation of -probity against dishonesty, and all the aversion of virtue to the thought -of a crime. - -Ismena had never before heard the paternal voice of her husband assume the -firm and terrible tone with which he now cast her treachery in her face, -and she sank under it as if struck by lightning. His profound sorrow and -stern condemnation seemed to open an abyss between him and her, and render -it impossible for the lips which had pronounced that severe sentence ever -to utter the pardon she craved more than life. Pardon! most beautiful and -perfect fruit of love, of which the value is so great that God's Son gave -his blood to buy it, and which, therefore, his Father grants for a single -tear, so great is his mercy! Pardon, divine gift, that pride neither asks -nor yields, but that humility both implores and concedes. Pardon, that, -like an efficacious intercession, lifts the sinner to heaven. - -Had she perchance waited too long to ask it? For one moment the torrent of -angry blood had swept generosity and sacred mercy from the heart of him she -had injured; and must she die in that moment? -{251} -She sprang from the bed, and, falling upon her knees, laid her clenched -hands against his breast, shrieking in a voice intercepted by the -death-rattle: - -"Pardon!" - -Her last thought, her last feeling, her last breath dissolved in that last -word. It reached the heart of her husband. Bending forward, he caught her -in his arms, and lifted--a corpse. - -And from the clock, as if time had waited for this moment to toll a -voluntary and pious passing bell, there issued twelve slow and measured -strokes. - - - Chapter VII. - -A secret fault, drawing with it its terrible consequences, interlaced one -with another, like a nest of venomous serpents, had already cost the one -who committed it her happiness and life, and the one who conceived it her -reason; for Nora, shocked into insanity by the fearful curse and death of -her mistress, was the inmate of a madhouse. But its hideous trail continued -still, entangling and envenoming the hitherto tranquil life of the General -Count of Alcira. The good old man never ceased to reproach himself for the -cruel epithet indignation had forced from his lips; the only expression he -had ever uttered that could wound the poor worn heart that implored but one -pious word to permit it to cease its beating in peace. Instead of that -word, he had cast the cruel taunt under which it had burst in despair. He -wept burning tears for not having conceded the pardon which could have been -but one instant wanting to his generous soul. And that instant had been her -last. His forgiveness might have soothed her anguish, prolonged her life, -and sweetened her death; and he had refused it. This remembrance became in -its turn a remorse, and poisoned his existence. - -The reaction he experienced, with his natural goodness of heart, had the -effect to render almost excusable in his eyes a fault counterbalanced by so -many shining qualities, and blotted out by such unparalleled remorse and by -mortal sufferings; for death, when it takes its prey, has the sweet -prerogative of carrying with it under the earth the evil it has done, -leaving the good behind for an epitaph. - -The general atoned for that one moment in which he had forgotten to be a -Christian by multiplied works of charity, offered in sacrifice to obtain -from heaven the pardon earth had denied the penitent, and by incessant -offerings for the repose of her soul. Offerings which the Eternal would -receive; for the Creator has not left man a foundling. He has acknowledged -him as a son, has given him precepts, and promised him, from the cross, a -glorious inheritance. - -Every morning a mass was offered for the rest of her whose image dwelt in -the heart of the old man who knelt at the foot of the altar, uniting his -fervent petitions with those of the priest that was sacrificing. - -The general's life was still more embittered by the painful secret which -oppressed and involved him and his sons with him, as the serpent in the -group of the Laocoon makes both father and sons his prey. He could not -break the arcanum without sacrificing the one to whom his kind heart clung -with tender affection, without defaming the sacred ashes of the mother of -his children. He, therefore, respecting the youth and innocence of his -boys, kept the fatal secret, which, in truth, he had not the courage to -reveal. The time, he argued within himself, when the veil must be withdrawn -from such a sad and cruel reality will come soon enough. Sometimes he -resolved to let it be buried with him. But what right had he, a man of such -strict principles, to deprive his heirs of their inheritance in favor of a -stranger? Could he make an alien the head of his noble house? -{252} -Allow a foundling to usurp the rights of its lawful representatives? -Worldly fathers would rather listen to the opinion of the world than to the -voice of conscience, placing social considerations above its decisions, -persuading it that they are compelled thereto by circumstances. But let no -one compound with conscience, lest she cease to be conscience; lest she -become a conniver instead of a sentinel, a weather-cock instead of a -foundation; lest she lose the respect and confidence she is bound to -inspire. For she should give her decisions as the sun sends forth his rays, -with nothing to hinder them or turn them from their direction. - -The years sped onward. The count grew infirm and saw his end approaching. -Wishing to pass the last days of his life in the society of his children, -and feeling that he ought to reveal the secret he had kept so long, he sent -for them to join him in Chiclana, where he wished to die, in order to be -buried beside his wife, thereby giving her, even after he was dead, a last -public testimony of affection and respect. - -The word enlightenment had not then been brought into use, nor had the -colleges been modernized. Yet this did not prevent the three brothers from -being such finished and accomplished gentlemen that the sight of them -filled their father's heart with pleasure and pride. - -Ramon, the eldest, came from the school of artillery, where he had been the -companion of Daoiz and Velarde. The second came from the academy of marine -guards, the academy which produced the heroes of Trafalgar, those Titans -who contended with a powerful adversary, with the treachery of an ally, and -with the unchained fury of the elements, and who were crushed, not -vanquished, by the three united. The youngest arrived from the university -of Seville, in which, at that time, or a little before, the Listas, -Reinosas, Blaneos, Carvajales, Arjonos, Roldanes, and the worthy, wise, and -exemplary Maestre, were students. For though Spain has lacked railroads, -hotels, and refined and sensual means of entertainment, she has never, in -any epoch, lacked wise men and heroes. - -The general looked at the three in turn with an indefinable expression of -tenderness; but when his glance fell upon Ramon, he lowered his eyes to -hide the tears that filled them. - -His vivid pleasure at the sight of his children, mingled with the anguish -of knowing that over the head of the unconscious Ramon the sword of -Damocles was suspended, agitated the old man so much that he passed the -night in feverish wakefulness, and his state on the following morning was -such that his doctors advised him to make his last preparations. The grief -of his children, by whom he was adored, was heart-rending. But the general -was so well prepared to leave the world and appear before the bar of God, -that his last dispositions, though solemn, were short and serene. - -Toward night, feeling himself grow weaker every moment, he made -arrangements to be left alone with his sons, who drew near his bed, -repressing their tears in order not to afflict him. - -He looked long at them, and then said: "My children, I am about to tell you -a cruel secret, which will make one of you wretched. It has lain for many -years buried deep in my soul; but I am dying, and can be its repository no -longer. O my God! my heart gives the lie to my lips; and, nevertheless, one -of you is not my son, and the mother at whose grave you go to pray never -bore you." - -The grieved astonishment which manifested itself in the countenances of the -three youths, left them pale, speechless, and overwhelmed. - -"You know well," continued the father, after a pause, "that my interest and -tenderness, in and toward you all have been the same, and that it cannot be -known, even to yourselves, which of you has no right to bear my name. And -you, my children, which one of you is it that does not feel for me the -affection of a son?" - -The simultaneous and eloquent reply of the three was to throw themselves, -suffocated by their sobs, into the arms of the good old man. - -{253} - -"Alas! then," he proceeded, "if your own hearts do not tell you, it is my -cruel duty to declare it." - -The youths regarded each other for a moment, and then, with one impulse -embracing each other, exclaimed with one voice: - -"Father, we will not know it!" - -The father raised his hands and eyes to heaven. "My God," he cried, "I -thank thee! I die contented. My sons, my sons! may the satisfaction of -having hidden for ever an unhappy secret, may the remembrance of having -covered with a mantle of holy fraternal love the misfortune of one of -yourselves, make your lives as happy and tranquil as you have made my -death." - -And laying his hands upon the heads of the three brothers, who had knelt at -his bedside, he said: "Let my last words be your recompense. My sons, I -leave you my blessing!" - - ------- - - Mercersburg Philosophy. - - By A. Protestant. - - - [As allusion having been made in the article on Dr. Bacon, which appeared - in our April number, "to the German Reformed Presbyterians and Dr. - Nevin," has called forth the following communication. We publish it as - interesting to our readers who will bear in mind in its perusal that it - is from a Protestant source, and while making, therefore, an allowance - for some of its statements, will at the same time be not a little - surprised that one who sees so much Catholic truth should fail to - identify what he sees with the Catholic Church.--Ed. C. W.] - - -From the mountain village of Mercersburg in Pennsylvania emanated a -philosophy--theology we, who are its prophets and adherents, call it--which -has done much, and is destined to do more, to unprotestantize -Protestantism. Nor do we, who are Protestants, regret this. The longer we -ponder our work the more are we convinced of its utility, and confirmed in -our resolution to pursue it. Well aware, as we are, that the Reformation -has proved a failure, except it be as a preparation for a higher form of -Christianity to follow nearer the old landmarks, and free from the -democratic tendencies that have crept into the Protestant Church from the -institutions of the state, or which, perhaps, more properly have moulded -the institutions of the state themselves as the natural outgrowth of the -system taught by Luther and Calvin, we cannot but rejoice that this is so. -Our people have a natural desire to worship, instead of being compelled to -give an intellectual assent to arguments on points of doctrine, and the -teachers of the Mercersburg philosophy are determined to gratify them. - -We see clearly, what many others have failed to see, that New England -Unitarianism, and after it infidelity, to which it leads, are not only the -logical but the actual consequences of Protestantism. But we believe in -historical development; and as this is development in the wrong direction, -we see nothing before us but to profit by the lesson and retrace our steps. -We know that a cult which rejects the Christ and elevates the Jesus will -soon degrade the Jesus too, and that, following an attempt to attain to -merely human excellence, will be a society distorted by the vices of -vanity, avarice, and selfishness, and then a gradual obliteration of all -the virtues. Men are beginning to see, dimly enough, that this age is a -transition period in the world's history, when all our conceptions of -truth, that is, Protestant conceptions of truth, are unsettled and passing -through crucible, as it were, to come out in new and untried forms. -{254} -But they do not understand the law of transition periods, and, while they -acknowledge that the last great transition was the Reformation, they fail -to perceive that the theories embraced at that time have failed. A certain -feeling of disappointment at the work sectarianism has wrought sometimes -oppresses them, but, instead of attempting to bridge over the chasm, they -endeavor to tear away the broken arches which remain. - -Everybody can see that Protestantism had a grand start during the first -thirty years of its existence. That Rome would soon give its last -convulsive gasp seemed patent to the eyes of all reformers; but now, after -three hundred years of Protestant endeavor, a leading Protestant clergyman -of New York is constrained to say that "Protestant Christendom betrays -signs of weakness in every part," and to declare, and rejoice in the -declaration, that "Modern life is not 'Christian' in any intelligible -sense. The industrial interest is openly averse to it both at home and -abroad. Political life is, if possible, still more unchristian." But -continues the same authority: "If industry, politics, literature, art, have -abandoned Christ, they have as fully and unreservedly embraced Jesus." Now -this is either sheer nonsense or it is downright infidelity. About the -premises there can be no doubt. It is but a small part of the so-called -Christian church that looks to Christ as the central fact of the -system--the super-natural agency working through the church for the -salvation of men. But the broad churchmen, when they have as fully and -unreservedly embraced what they understand by Jesus as they now believe -they have, will discover that the "touching devotion to the cause of -humanity," about which they talk so eloquently, will develop itself into -pure selfishness, and the rapacity of Wall street and the heartlessness of -Madison square will extend their ramifications through every order of -society. - -Seeing that ostentatious wealth is about to be at a premium, and -unobtrusive piety at a discount, we, who believe in the Mercersburg -philosophy, are endeavoring to interpose our hands to stay the sweeping -tide. - -I hope I have now laid the grounds with the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD -for an enunciation of what we believe and teach. - -The cardinal principle of the system we inculcate is the incarnation, -viewed not as a mere speculative fact, but as a real transaction of God in -the world. Thus, our belief is peculiarly christological in its character, -all things being looked at through the person of the crucified and risen -Saviour. The church which he founded is an object of faith--a new creation -in the natural world working through the body of Christ and mediating -super-naturally between him and his people. Its ministers hold a divine -commission from him by apostolical succession. Its sacraments are not mere -signs, but seals of the grace they represent. Baptism is for the remission -of sins. The Eucharist includes the mystical presence of Christ by the -power of the Holy Ghost; that is, the real presence in a mystery. With -these dogmas we started, contending that we had all the attributes that -were ascribed to the church in the beginning--unity, sanctity, catholicity, -and apostolicity. - -It is now many years since the work was started--as many, indeed, as were -required for the Reformation in Europe to reach the acme of its success. -Since then a growing culture and enlarged views of doctrine and of worship -have seemed to require an enlargement of the range within which the -movement was originally intended to be confined, and beyond which we did -not conceive of its expansion. The time has been spent in educating the -backward up to the starting-point, and in preparing a better form of -worship for them when they are sufficiently advanced to receive it. -{255} -The movement commenced at Marshall College. "Old Marshall," which started -as a high school for boys and was soon after endowed, though sparingly, as -a college, has since been merged with another with more money, but without -the prestige, and, alas! without the true spirit of the philosophy of the -mountain college. In the same village with this institution is the -theological seminary of a church, respectable for numbers and influence, -though without fashionable appointments or pretensions to popular favor, -which still retains the true ring of the old metal. Some time after its -foundation, it came to be presided over by a man of rare genius as a -theological writer and thinker, who was also president of the college. -Profound in his conceptions of truth and logical in his reasoning, be -possessed an unbounded influence over those who came under his -instructions, and but few young men have sat at the feet of this Gamaliel -without going away fully indoctrinated with his peculiar opinions, and -zealous standard-bearers in carrying forward the work which he had begun. - -Many prejudices had to be encountered and overcome in carrying forward this -work. Bigotry and prejudice are barriers against which reason and religion -strike in vain. Many who placed their hands to the plough turned back in -the furrow. Opposition made the seed strike deeper root, and in the very -slowness of the work is an earnest of its ultimate triumph. It may take us -us nearer to Rome than we contemplate just now; it may bring Rome nearer to -us than she at present desires. Come what will of it, it is plain sailing -to us, although we cannot see land on either horizon. Nor do we see such -cause for terror in the "horrors and superstitions of popery" which many -men believe constantly lurks there. It seems to us that what men call -Romanism may not be such a bad thing after all. We know it has done much -good. A church that was a power in the days of the old Roman empire, and -could not be overwhelmed by the tide of barbarism that overturned the power -of the Caesars, but could finally roll back that tide of darkness, -preserving Christianity through ages which have not left a vestige of the -universal wreck behind, has certainly claims upon our profoundest gratitude -and most reverential awe. To us, it would seem strange, indeed, that the -vehicle for the preservation of Christianity through ages when civilization -was blotted out, and which did preserve not only its essence but its form, -should be the mystical Babylon and the man of sin. - -Were this, indeed, so, we know in what desperate straits we would be -placed. The form of the primitive church is generally flippantly declared -by Protestants to have been nearer the system of New England than old -England; and the Roman hierarchy is regarded as a long distance from -either, which it certainly is. It is easy to assume that in the earlier -ages of the church there was no papacy, no priesthood, no liturgy, no -belief in a supernatural virtue in baptism, nor of the real presence in the -sacrament, and that everything was quite in accordance with modern ideas of -private judgment, popular freedom, and common sense; but it is not so easy -to prove it, nor indeed is it desirable even for Protestants that it should -be proved. The Reformation has always been understood to have been the -historical product of the church itself; but if these assumptions were well -founded, the church out of whose bosom the Reformation sprang would be no -church at all, and the Reformation no reformation, but only a revolution. -Thus, indeed, Christianity would be the theory of a philosopher, but not -the life of a Christian. - -The work we have been doing is different from Puseyism even in its spirit. -The simplicity of Keble and the earnestness and power of Newman, in the -days of their early zeal when these two wrought together, is nearer to what -we intend if different from what we have accomplished or may yet -accomplish. We thank the Roman Catholic Church for its Christian year, its -symbols of faith, its traditions of battle and of conquest, its early -martyrology, and its unceasing and undying purpose. -{256} -Nor do we conceal that there are some things in the Roman Catholic Church -to which we object. These are rather historical defects than present -imperfections, and we see as much in our own history to regret and to -condemn. - -I well remember the unpretending little church in which it was my privilege -to worship in a country town of Pennsylvania. The Episcopalians had no -foothold there, and the Presbyterians consequently, combining together at -once the imperiousness and the exclusiveness for which they have ever been -distinguished, pretended to monopolize the fashion and the piety, the -society and the religion, of the village. They, of course, contemned us, -and opened wide their doors for our disorganizers, who were crying out -against innovation when we were seeking to make our church a place of -worship, instead of a bazaar for the display of fine clothing and false -curls. The Methodists, living only the false life of a sickly -sentimentality, and the Lutherans degraded even from the doctrines and -practices Luther taught in his fiery zeal, were absorbed in their childish -schemes of marrying and giving in marriage, engaged in special efforts at -reform by revivals and meetings of religious inquiry, and busied in raising -subscriptions for objects like Mrs. Jellaby's mission at Borrioboola-Gha or -Sunday-school libraries which would not be sectarian, had little time to -think of us after they received their quietus in the "anxious bench" -controversy of 1843. There were, indeed, many solemn conclaves over our -affairs by gossips who neither understood nor wished to understand the work -we were doing, and half in fear that we should be lost for too much -reverence for mother church, and half in joy at the prospect of a few -proselytes, everybody affected to commiserate us. But these, though often -working mischief among our "weaker vessels," were not seriously opposed by -us. Our purpose was steadily kept in view, notwithstanding. - -It was by preaching principally that we hoped to accomplish our task, and, -after the stubborn fallow of an unworked field had been broken, to recur -gradually to the forms of the church. But the furrows, we felt, would be an -empty mockery without the teachings that give them force. To inculcate -truth was then our first duty. This was often done by the more earnest and -intelligent of our clergy, by following up the seasons of the Christian -calendar and deriving lessons from each. Incidentally was urged, with more -or less boldness according to the courage and temper of the man whose duty -it was to enforce them, doctrines which for many years sounded strangely to -Protestant ears. Among these, besides those already noticed in this paper, -I may instance, as an example least expected by Catholics to be urged -anywhere outside of mother church itself, the dogma of the Immaculate -Conception. Starting with the proposition that that which is holy cannot be -born of that which is unclean and sinful, I have time and again heard this -theme urged upon his people with force and fervor by an earnest and fervent -pastor. Not with equal boldness, perhaps, but with no less sincerity and -fervor have I heard him urge the ministrations of the Virgin. Often in -declaring these doctrines he would enforce a proposition by putting it in -the form of a question, and one of these, I believe, I shall continue to -hear ringing in my ears while the words of men remain intelligible to me: -Why should we not reverence the mother of our Lord? - -These things may be news to Catholics, and may be news even to many in -whose ears they have been thundered for a quarter of a century. The latter -hear without understanding, but the words will be re-echoed in their -hearing until they are not terms without meaning. -{257} -The Mercersburg philosophy is the antagonism in thought and in its social -aspects of New England transcendentalism and Plymouth Rock -conventionalisms, and receives no favor, and merits none, from a people -among whom Dr. Holmes's Elsie Venner is an exponent of the life and -practice of the present, as Cotton Mather's Wonders of the Invisible World -was of past generations. And Pennsylvania, where this philosophy has its -stronghold, being unlike New England, of which Dr. Mather said, "Being a -country whose interests are remarkably inwrapped in ecclesiastical -circumstances, ministers ought to concern themselves in politics," the body -of the people who compose the German Reformed Church, and who look back to -the Heidelberg Catechism as their earliest enunciation of faith, and the -Mercersberg theology as their latest development of truth, have never felt -the need of political preaching. A simple motto includes all their -aspirations, their hopes, and their fears, their preaching, their practice, -and their eternal reward--CHRIST CRUCIFIED. - - ------- - - Original. - - A Family Motto. - - - A well proportioned ancient shield, - And on the azure-tinted field - The red crusader's cross: - Words scarce could tell at what a loss - The well-read scholar stood-- - In what an earnest, startled mood, - Beneath the ancient, comely shield, - And red cross on the azure field, - This motto's thread - He whispering read, - "_Fortiter gerit crucem_." - - A true crusader, staunch and bold, - Was he, my good ancestor old, - Who thus could boast his cross - He bore unmindful of the loss: - "Strong, strong his cross to bear," - Comes down in characters most fair; - Comes down a glory unto me - Through many a bloody century; - The good seed kept - Though old faith slept, - "_Fortiter gerit crucem_." - -{258} - - Though old faith slept! a deep blush came - Across his cheek, a blush of shame: - That bold crusader's cross, - Borne in the very teeth of loss, - No longer worn with pride; - His conscience told him, laid aside - Like some base superstitions's sign: - That cross which from high heaven will shine. - When men shall hear, - With joy or fear, - "_Fortiter gerit crucem_." - - Years passed; his quickened eye had scanned - The archives rich of many a land. - Yet still a purpose, named - Not to himself, each spoil had claimed; - And day by day to hail - On truth's horizon some new sail, - Strange sweetness sent through all his veins, - Till to his contrite breast he strains - That cross severe, - While angels hear, - "_Fortiter gerit crucem_." - - ------- - - From The Month. - - "He Went About Doing Good." - - -The memory of the French _émigrés_ in England must be almost extinct. -A few survivors may remain among us, who can just remember the marquis with -faded decorations who taught them French or drawing, or the venerable abbé -who patted them on the head and whispered his blessing. But the horrors -that led to the sudden appearance on our shores of several thousand French -exiles, the burst of compassion and friendliness with which they were -welcomed, the sustained respect which they continued to excite, the noble -efforts successfully made, under the crushing pressure of a fearfully -expensive war, to provide for their wants, and the recompense that came in -the shape of prejudices cleared away and preparation for the reception of -truth--these things are now matters of history, and we have few traditions -of them to supply the place of recollection. They do not even enter much -into our current literature. In our own younger days the courteous and -dignified, although threadbare, French nobleman, and even the snuff-box and -shoe-buckles and silver hairs of the kind-hearted French priests, not -unfrequently figured in the moderate supply--very different from the -present inundation--of tales and works of fiction which sufficed for the -wants of that remote epoch. We know of no work of note of the present day -in which use is made of the character of an _émigré_, except the Tale -of Two Cities; and that is hardly an exception, since the exiles there -introduced are little more than pegs to the story. We would gladly know -more of the intercourse of our grandfathers with these confessors for the -faith, of the homage which their courage and cheerfulness extorted, and -especially of the working of that influence for good, which, indirectly, -must have had vast effects, and have tended greatly both to accelerate the -removal of the penal laws, and to bring about that reaction toward the -church of which we are now reaping the harvest; and which, even directly, -was probably the cause of very numerous conversions. -{259} -A memorandum found among the papers of Abbé Carron, with the title, "A -little memorandum most precious to my heart and to my faith," contained a -list of fifty-five Protestants received by him into the church before the -year 1803; and many more, whose names did not appear in that list, were -known to have been converted by his ministry. The simple fact that, within -twelve years after the public burning of Catholic chapels and the houses of -Catholics in London, our parliament was voting money by acclamation to -support several thousands of foreign priests who were in exile purely for -their loyalty to the Catholic Church, is at first sight almost startling. -The British lion must surely have worn rather a puzzled expression of -countenance when he found himself bringing bread to popish priests of the -most thoroughly popish kind, and respectfully licking their hands. While -great admiration is really due to the generosity of the noble animal on -this occasion, it is perhaps only fair, as well as obvious, to remark, that -he probably somewhat confounded the cause of the clergy, who suffered only -for their faith, with that of the exiles in general, and was somewhat -influenced by his hatred first of the _sans-culottes_, and afterward -of Bonaparte. The clergy, however, although for the most part very strongly -attached to the French throne, were quite ready to work on under any -government, and in whatever privations, and were driven into exile or -threatened with death solely for the same sort of offence as that of St. -Thomas of Canterbury, of Fisher and More; that is, for their repudiation of -the wry principle which is the essential basis of the so-called Church of -England. - -An exceedingly interesting life,[Footnote 54] notwithstanding its somewhat -superfluous diffuseness, has lately been published at Paris of the -venerable Abbé Carron, to whom the Catholics of London are indebted for the -chapel and schools of the Somers-town Mission, and indirectly, through his -successor Abbé Nerinckx, for the establishment among us of the "Faithful -Companions of Jesus." - - [Footnote 54: Vie de l'Abbé Carron, par un Bénédictin de la - Congrégation de France. Paris, 1866.] - -We can hardly help envying the good religious who has sent forth this huge -volume of nearly 700 pages, the thorough roominess in which he carries on -his labor of love; omitting no detail that in any way furthers his purpose, -describing not only the holy priest himself, but most of his relations and -intimate friends, and freely inserting letters and documents at full -length. Some of these, such as letters of commendation from royal -personages, and other notabilities, and the official answers, which show -that the "Circumlocution Office" was a French quite as much as an English -institution, we could perhaps forego. But the letters of the abbé himself, -numerous as they are, do not contain a line too many for our taste; for -every line exhales the fragrance of a love the strength of which, as a -natural affection, could seldom have been surpassed, and which, at the same -time, although not so thoroughly predominated over by the supernatural as -in the highest order of saints, is yet always under its influence, and -ready to pass into it. Few men have ever lived less in or for themselves. -He lived for his mother, brother, and sisters, for his nephews and nieces -and adopted children, for his king and country, for his fellow-exiles, and, -above all, for the poor, to whose special service he bound himself by -repeated vows, which were gloriously fulfilled. We cannot see in his most -confidential letters or in his most private memoranda a trace of indulgence -in a single natural pleasure, except that of being loved. Although a very -voluminous writer, he seems to have been absolutely free from literary -vanity. He allowed the Abbé Gérard, the author of Valmont--to whom he -submitted most of his productions--to go on criticising and correcting -without mercy, and was ready to suppress anything at a word from him. -{260} -As he had no vulnerable point, so to speak, but in his affections, it was -here, as is usual with those whom God would train for great things, that -the sharpest wounds were inflicted. The early death of a younger sister -born soon after himself, who had been his confidante and associate in piety -and in all his schemes of devotion and devotedness as a child; the death of -his mother, whom he would have idolized if he could have idolized anything, -but from whose death-bed he went back calmly to sit all the evening in the -confessional; the deaths of several others of those nearest and dearest to -him, and the defection of a few; the overthrow of his gigantic and -successful undertakings in behalf of the poor of his native town; two -deportations and nearly half a life spent in banishment from his beloved -France; banishment from Normandy and from home even after his return to -France; frequent contact with distress greater than even _his_ -wonderful ability to relieve; and, perhaps worst of all, his own share, -however innocently, in the ruin of an intimate friend whom he had -encouraged to invest all his property in his favorite undertaking of -workshops at Rennes, and who died broken-hearted, leaving a widow and seven -children destitute: these were the things that made his _way of the -cross_, and moulded his loving and bleeding heart to a greater likeness -of the Crucified. - -It was on the 16th of September, 1792, that Abbé Carron, then in the -thirty-third year of his age, and the tenth of his priesthood, landed in -Jersey with 250 other priests, after a tempestuous passage of forty-eight -hours from St. Malo, in which they had narrowly escaped the fate to which -those who forced them to put to sea in a storm had apparently destined -them. These were nearly the last of the exiles. The September massacres -gave the crown of martyrdom to most of the clergy faithful to their vows, -who had not either been alarmed into flight or forcibly banished. The Abbé -Carron, and those who accompanied him, were not, properly speaking, -_émigrés_ but _déportés_. Of the _émigrés_ or fugitives, -again, there were two classes: those who, like most of the nobility, had -fled when their property was seized and their privileges taken away; and -those who, as was the case with most of the clergy, had remained at their -posts till they were exposed to indignities and outrages, and their lives -endangered. But nothing would induce the Abbé Carron and those who were -influenced by his example to fly. The civil character of the clergy had -been decreed by the National Assembly on the 12th of July, 1790, and -unfortunately accepted by Louis XVI on the 24th of August. On the 4th of -January, 1791, the oath which was the test of confessorship had been -demanded of the bishops, and almost unanimously refused; and soon afterward -began the persecution of the priests and the religious who followed their -noble example. On the 11th of May the municipality of Rennes endeavored to -install the schismatical clergy in the chief parishes of the town, and -threatened summary proceedings against all who had refused the oath for any -attempt to discharge their ministry any more. The Abbé Carron, the chief -curate of the large parish of St. Germain, in which he had labored from the -time of his ordination, was one of those specially interdicted. At the same -time, the violent republicans of the town, who, although comparatively -few--for the mass of the inhabitants continued Catholic and loyal--were -prevailing, as elsewhere, over the more moderate, had begun to threaten his -life. He preached the last course of Lent sermons that were heard for many -years to come in his native town, although parties of armed men were known -to be in wait for him; but after Easter, by order of the vicar-general, he -retired to the house of a brother a few leagues out of the town. -{261} -On his way, early in the morning, he was met by forty armed men who had -been searching for him at the very house to which he was going, with the -intention of murdering him, and whose violence had so agitated his brother, -who was in weak health, that he died not long after; but although they -spoke to the abbé, they did not touch him. His life had been still more -wonderfully preserved several years before, when three men--one of whom was -enraged at the conversion by the abbé's preaching of a woman whom he had -seduced--had laid a plot for his assassination, and had entrapped him, -under pretence of his services being required for a wounded man, into a -solitary house on the bank of the river. When he approached the bed in -which his pretended penitent had laid himself ready to strike the murderous -blow, he exclaimed, "You have sent for me too late: the unfortunate man is -no more;" and his companions found that the wretch had suddenly expired. -Carron had not yet finished his work; and, although in a less signally -supernatural manner, the divine hand that had then fallen on his would-be -murderer interposed again and again to protect him. From his retirement, -where he had composed and published a vigorous and pathetic remonstrance to -those religious who were yielding to the storm and breaking their vows, he -returned to his perish, and did not intermit his work till he was seized -and carried to prison, and into forced exile in the August of the next -year. He continued to carry on and even to extend, in addition to his -sacerdotal labors, the weaving, rope and sail-making, and other -manufactures that he had established for the benefit of the poor, and was -actually giving employment and subsistence to 1500 artisans when he was -arrested. At the same time he had expended 100,000 francs on the buildings -where the works were carried on; and when they were taken possession of by -the republicans, the stock in hand was valued at more than 94,000 francs, -and 90,000 more were due to him for sails supplied to the navy from his -establishment. His success in this undertaking was probably the reason for -which, although he was unflinching in his zeal, and resolutely refused to -allow any constitutional priest to officiate in his church, his arrest was -so long delayed. While inflexibly firm in matters of conscience, he was -ready enough to accommodate himself in everything else to the new state of -things, in order to carry on his work. He was willing to be known as -_citoyen Carron_, and to be _tutoyed_ to any extent. He obeyed -the law which ordered all the _imermentés_ to present themselves every -day to the municipal authorities. He implored that, if they thought fit to -imprison him, he might still be permitted to carry on his works of charity, -and offered to visit them accompanied by an officer, and to live -contentedly in confinement. "Although breathing infected air," he said, "I -may still manage to live a few years, and discharge the sacred obligation -of reimbursing the friends who lent me money to do good with. Then I will -make a present of my establishment to my country, and I shall die satisfied -with having undeceived those who think that I had in view to enrich myself -or my family." - -But the fatal blow, though delayed, was not very long in coming. On the -10th of August a party of the national guard took him to the _hôtel de -ville_, and thence to the Abbey of St. Melaine, which had been turned -into a prison; and on the 8th of September he and his fellow-prisoners were -escorted to St. Malo to be shipped for Jersey. His bishop, his rector, and -many of his clerical friends had fled months before; but he had kept to his -resolution, more expressively, his biographer says, than grammatically -worded, "_Jamais je n'ai voulu consentir à m'émigrer._" He was in bad -health, and suffering besides from a violent toothache; but neither of -this, nor of his being made to share the single mattress of a prisoner in a -high fever, nor of any of the brutal insults which he received in prison -and on the journey to the coast, does he say a word in the letters which he -managed to send to his sister and nephews. -{262} -He addresses them all by name, longs to fold them to his breast, hopes one -day to see them again, consoles and advises them, and sends the little ones -the few sous that he happened to have in his possession. But his thoughts -of his own sufferings are only such as these: - - "Believe me, I do not suffer the hundredth part of what I have deserved. - An unfortunate sinner, a base and too frequent transgressor, such as I - know myself to be, ought not to think anything of such slight drops of - bitterness. My God, when we love you, how sweet, how consoling, how - delicious it is to suffer for you; and how magnificently does the love - which we bear you recompense us for all the miseries of life! Do not, my - dear child, think of your friend's imprisonment, without remembering at - the same time that I deserve to be at the bottom of the most loathsome - dungeon, and under a thousand chains, to bewail the sins of my youth." - -His last message, when on the point of embarking, was to M. Paris, whom be -had commissioned to watch over his factories. - - "I hope that this letter, in which I enclose my heart, will find you in - good health. Mine has had some variations, but it is at present quite - sound; and I desire, if my God preserves me in it, to consecrate it again - one day entirely to the service of my dear fellow-citizens; for I shall - always love them, and shall always sigh for the moment when, recovering - from their unfounded prejudices, they cease to close their heart to me. - Speak of me now and then to the members of that dear colony whose - prosperity formed the sweetest enjoyment of my youth. Tell them that I - shall always be their father and their friend, and that I shall seek all - my life for the means of making them happy. If I can gain any practical - knowledge of manufactures in England, I shall make haste to apply it to - the improvement of La Piletière," - -He was never permitted to revisit his work at Rennes; but his indefatigable -activity and burning zeal found a still wider field, and achieved still -greater wonders in exile. - -It was no slight task that awaited him. The two hundred and fifty penniless -outcasts--of whom he was one--came to swell a crowd of more than three -thousand priests and religious, living in discomfort and distress in the -midst of a population far more bitterly opposed to the Catholic religion -than the people of England, and in danger, from the want of occupation, and -from the cessation of all outward practices of piety, of falling into -disorder. Only the year before, a Catholic lady had tried to get permission -to have mass celebrated in private, and the good people of Jersey had -threatened to throw any priest who ventured to celebrate mass into a -caldron of boiling oil; and when after some time she got a brave Irish -priest to run the risk, her husband, who served his mass, held a naked -sword to be ready for an attack. The Abbé Carron had not been long in the -island before nine masses were said every morning in her parlor. After a -short visit to London, whither he went to consult with the Bishop of Léon -and the rector of his old parish at Rennes--not forgetting at the same time -his promise to obtain information that would be useful at La Piletière--he -settled himself to his work on the 8th of October. He opened an oratory at -once, in which he said mass every day, and preached on Sunday, with some -secrecy at first, but very soon, as the dispositions of the people changed, -without the necessity of any precautions. He gave several courses of -spiritual exercises to the clergy, by which their fervor was rekindled. He -set on foot a large dispensary, in which a priest, who had been a surgeon -before his ordination, made up and administered remedies, and in which -another priest dispensed soup, wine, linen, and other necessaries. Then he -collected a great quantity of books, and opened a library and reading-room, -where the clergy could come from their over-crowded barrack-rooms to study -or pray in silence and in comfort. He provided another collection of books -to form a circulating library for the emigrant laity, many of whom had been -hurried into exile without being able to bring anything with them; and -Catholic books were, of course, unattainable at that time in Jersey. -{263} -By the June after his arrival he had two schools at work for their sons and -daughters, and constituted himself master of the upper division of the -boys' school, but taught the catechism and explained the epistles and -gospels to all the classes in each institution. These were the only -Catholic places of instruction in the whole island. He was, besides, the -common refuge for all the wants, spiritual and temporal, of the whole -colony; he was hard at work at the composition of some of the numerous -volumes which he published to increase his resources of charity; and he -continued, till war broke off the communication between England and France, -to direct, as far as was possible, the factories of La Piletière. Yet, with -all these undertakings on hand, he was living himself in a state of almost -destitution. One room served him for a second chapel, for confessional, -class-room, reception-room, and bedchamber; and having no servant, he had -to move and replace the tables and benches, and sweep and dust several -times a day. And, with all this multifarious work, he made it a rule to -read two chapters of Holy Scripture on his knees every day, to make a visit -every afternoon to the blessed sacrament, to make at least half an hour's -mental prayer, and to read a chapter in the Imitation, another in the -Spiritual Combat, and at least fifteen pages of a manual of theology, -however pressing his occupations might be. He prescribed to himself in a -rule of life, drawn up in Jersey, and found after his death, to rise at -four, however late he might have retired to rest; to say office after his -meditation, and then to celebrate; to fast every day, never taking anything -before dinner, and only milk for his collation, and on Fridays only bread; -never to touch wine, and to confine himself to bread and vegetables when be -dined alone; and in various other ways to deprive himself of comfort, and -to bring his standard of what was necessary far below that which is usual -even with the pious and charitable. The only expensive article that he -retained was a watch, the alarum of which he found needful to wake him; but -be promised, as soon as be had thoroughly acquired the habit of waking -before four o'clock, to give this also away to his "dear friends the poor; -who," he said, "shall have everything that I can deny myself." His rule of -life, which contains also devout aspirations for every different act of the -day, and for times of wakefulness at night, ends with this fervent -petition: - - "O incomprehensible and eternal treasure of my soul, the one adorable - object of all the feelings, affections, and emotions of my heart, Jesus, - my Jesus, my love and my all, oh! that I may love you, that I may live - only to love you, and to cause you to be loved upon earth! Grant me, O - Lord! days well filled, a pure life, and a happy death, that may conduct - me to your bosom!" - -That such a man should exercise great influence for good, and work wonders, -we cease to be surprised. When his undertakings assumed soon afterward a -still more extended range of responsibility in London, Bishop Douglas -expressed to the Bishop of Léon his amazement and alarm, and was answered: -"Reassure yourself, my lord; I have known Abbé Carron a long time, and I am -accustomed to see him work miracles." Yet we should hardly, perhaps, be -prepared for what he actually effected. When the republican forces under -General Hoche were massed on the coast, apparently for an invasion of our -territories, the English government resolved to fortify Jersey, and deemed -it expedient to transfer the exiles to London. A curious proposal had just -been made by the military commander, that the clergy should take up arms; -which was, however, courteously refused, and the refusal courteously -accepted. In August, 1796, the abbé came to London, charged with the task -of finding accommodation and providing for the wants of the French colony -from Jersey. -{264} -Besides the herculean task of finding lodgings for most of them, he at once -hired two houses in Tottenham-court road and reopened his two schools, and -soon after opened two rooms for public chapels, and established again his -libraries. In less than three years he had also under his care a hospital -for forty aged and infirm ecclesiastics, and another for twenty-five female -patients, an ecclesiastical seminary containing twenty-five students in -training for the priesthood, and a Maison de Providence, on the plan of the -houses of the Sisters of Charity, provided with all necessary supplies for -visiting and relieving the poor. In 1799, to his two day-schools were added -_pensionnats_--the one for eighty boys, and the other for sixty -girls--all the expenses of which, in excess of the twelve or eighteen -guineas per head granted by the British government, fell on the abbé. His -way of returning thanks was to promise some additional work of charity. -Thus, in an effusion of gratitude for the opening of the hospice for old -priests, he bound himself to give a dinner to six poor old men every 28th -of October; when the seminary was opened, he promised to give a dinner -every 1st of December to twelve poor children, to wait on them himself, and -to send them home with new clothes and bread in their hands; and when the -female hospital was opened, to give a marriage portion every 25th of -October to three virtuous young women. - -When in peculiarly great difficulties, his plan, like that of many saints, -was to give in alms any little money that remained, in order, as he said, -"to draw down dew from heaven;" and this never failed. Rich Protestants -called and left bank-notes, without giving him time to discover who they -were, or sent anonymous donations. Two gentlemen in drab-colored attire -astonished the pupils, trained to the most exquisite politeness, by coming -in one day without removing their hats; and one of them, who turned out to -be that torment of our infancy, Lindsey Murray, after seeing the whole -establishment, deposited £10 in the abbé's hands. The leading Catholics -were, of course, profuse in their offerings, and all ready to place -themselves at his disposal. The hoarded jewels of the richer exiles melted -into alms for the poor. Actors read plays for his benefit, and the great -Catalani gave a concert for him. He had been encouraged at the outset by -even more striking dispositions of Divine Providence. A rich Englishman, -living at St. Aubin in Jersey, had entreated him to accept his house and -estate and become his heir; but, as the offer involved the condition of -being naturalized and abandoning France, his love for his country, that had -used him so cruelly, prevented his listening to it. Soon after his -settlement in London he found himself without resources, and heavily in -debt. Mr. Desprez, his former rector, met him coming out of his oratory in -a state of great depression, and proposed a walk in the park. It was early, -and no one was to be seen. A man passed them at a rapid pace, and, when a -little in advance of them, drew some packages out of his pocket, one of -which fell to the ground. The abbé picked it up, and found a bundle of -notes. He ran after the man, shouting to him, but in vain, to stop, and at -last overtook him. The other refused to stop, and declared that the notes -did not belong to him, and that he was in a great hurry. "Where do they -come from, then?" was the natural question. "From there, sir," said the -stranger, pointing upward. They amounted, Mr. Desprez recorded, to the -value of some scores of thousands of francs. The abbé used to say that, -while in England, more than a million guineas had passed through his hands. -Yet he was inexorable in his rule of never receiving anything of value for -himself. He refused whatever was clogged with the condition of keeping it -himself. - -In 1797, an amnesty for the exiles was voted, and for a week he was hoping -to return to France, and had even closed his schools; but the government, -who were better acquainted with the state of things, refused him a -passport, and the _coup d'état_ of the 4th of September revoked the -amnesty. -{265} -In November, 1799, he settled with all his establishments, except the -seminary for priests, which was now not so much required, at Somers-town. -They occupied ten large houses, the rent of three being paid by the -government, and that of the others by himself. A French journal describes -them as situated outside of London, in good air, and _quite in the -country_. - -In 1801, he might have returned to France. The famous concordat was signed -on the 15th of July, and made public on the following Easter, the 12th of -April, 1802. The Bishop of Rennes, who yielded, although with rather too -much of protest, to the invitation from the Holy See addressed to all the -old bishops to resign their sees, in order to facilitate the working of the -concordat, earnestly entreated that Abbé Carron might be his successor; and -the First Consul desired himself to secure him. But the articles -fraudulently added by Napoleon, and against which the pope, when he became -aware of them, vehemently protested, made the abbé feel it to be impossible -to work satisfactorily in France while they were in force. - -The schism of the _Petite Eglise_, or Blanchardism as it was called in -England, was a terrible blow to him. More than half the bishops still in -exile and many of the clergy--and among them his dearest friends--held out -against the Holy See. But his fidelity never wavered, not even while the -vicar-apostolic of the London district was acting timidly, and weakening -the effect of Dr. Milner's more energetic measures. The _organic -articles_ were a sore puzzle and distress to him; but he would never -countenance a word of disrespect to the Holy See. In a synod of bishops he -was chosen by Dr. Milner for his theologian, but rejected on the ground of -his being a foreigner. This firmness of his drew upon him ultimately a -fierce persecution, and great attempts were made, but with only partial -success, to alienate from him Louis XVIII. and the other members of the -exiled dynasty, who had themselves remonstrated with the Holy See on the -concordat. But no ecclesiastical dignity was ever offered him after the -restoration. A storm of abusive pamphlets, anonymous letters, and -slanderous reports of the worst kind fell for some time keenly upon him. -Yet in his correspondence with his dear relations in Normandy, which was -now resumed and carried on till war broke out again, there is no allusion -to any of his trials, except that of his continual separation from them. He -longs to see them; he interests himself in all the details of their -families, and gives them advice and encouragement; but he has no space for -his own afflictions. The only thing that disputes with them for his love ---for his love of God is supreme over all--is his love of the poor. "I love -you," he cries; "yes, certainly, I love you with all my heart, and all the -dear ones by whom you are surrounded; but I love my poor still more; they -are my numerous and best-beloved family." - -In 1807, the popularity of the French clergy was so great, and had so -increased the favorable feeling toward Catholics generally, that he thought -it time to build a regular church. Hitherto he had officiated in the -largest room of one of the schools. The impossibility of raising -4000_l_. for the purpose was soon surmounted by one to whom nothing -was impossible that the glory of God seemed to require. So the church in -the Polygon soon rose, and was crowded at once on its being opened; and he -added to his other labors the task of giving sermons in English, which it -cost him immense pains to elaborate and learn by heart. As his little flock -of exiles, who were now making their way back to France diminished, his -ministry both among the French settled in London and among the English -increased. He made it a rule to visit all his sick--of whom he had a large -number--at least once a week, and those seriously ill every day. -{266} -He visited one daily, and often twice a day, for six months together. His -poor schools were enlarged and admitted English as well as French -Catholics. His records of conversions became more and more numerous; and -each cost him weeks, and generally months, of careful preliminary -instruction. He was constantly engaged in writing, and published twelve or -thirteen different works in London. He was carrying on also a -correspondence with many Protestants and sceptics; to whose difficulties he -was never weary of replying. Part of his correspondence with one alone -extended to twenty-seven letters, mostly of eight or ten pages each. How he -could multiply himself sufficiently for all that he was doing is one of -those mysteries which we find in the lives of saints alone. When the -demands of the _émigrés_ on his purse were less heavy, he began to -distribute soup and coals to the poor Catholics of London; an express -prohibition from government preventing him from extending this charity to -Protestants, _for fear of conversion_. As the war went on, immense -donations both of money and of all kinds of necessaries were made by him to -the increasing crowds of French prisoners. - -In April, 1814, Louis XVIII., who had been nearly seven years in England, -and under whose patronage the abbé's _pensionnats_ for the children of -the _émigrés_ had acquired a sort of title to be deemed royal -institutions, returned to the throne, vacant by the banishment of Napoleon -to Elba; and the abbé only waited for the royal commands respecting the -young French nobility under his care to terminate his twenty-two years of -exile. On the 14th of July he said mass for the last time at Somers-town, -and set off at five in the morning, to escape any attempts of his flock to -prevent his departure. He left England, after all the hundreds of thousands -of pounds that had passed through his hands, as poor as he had come to it, -and was beholden to his friends the Jerninghams for part of the expense of -the journey. A solidly built chapel and two poor schools, containing a -hundred children, with all necessary appliances, were his legacy to the -Catholics of England. What were his feelings toward those whom he was -leaving, and those whom he was expecting to see again, how the sight of -France affected him, and what were his intentions for the future, we must -leave him to express, by extracting some portion of one of several letters -which be wrote on landing: - - Calais, Sunday, July 17, 1814. - "Ursula, my dearly loved sister, daughter, and friend--I arrived here - last night, after a difficult passage. Here I am, then, on the precious - soil that gave me birth. .... Ah! my dear ones, if I could clasp you all - in my arms, my heart would be less bruised, less in anguish than it is! - Alas! I have lost Somers-town, for me a land of benediction; and in my - own country, I look for France in vain. In twenty-four hours, what have I - not seen already! This holy day of rest made a working day; not a shop - that is not open; not a street-vender that is not crying his wares. What - a sight! How it pierces any heart that retains the faith! ... All the - difference between the twenty-two last years and those that it may please - the Lord to add to me will only be in the outward utterance of my - feelings. I was silent, and I loved; I shall speak, but I cannot love - more. Oh! what a pure and innocent enjoyment it will be to bless your - children and your grandchildren, and to chat together about the days of - our youth! I so need some distraction, some nourishment to my poor heart. - But do you know the way to procure it the most delicious nourishment? It - is to assure me that you wish to live and breathe only for God and for - his love; for this is the true life of man--to have a sinner's awe and a - child's love for the most tender and compassionate of fathers. If it were - granted me to gain him some hearts before dying, this would be a balm - that would heal all my wounds. Ah, my child, if you knew what angelic - souls I have left on the soil of my second country! Excellent Christians, - you are not heard of on earth; but what a festival is in preparation for - you in heaven! The love of God for ever! Let us talk of this love; let us - act in everything for the sake of it; let us act only through it. To live - without loving is to languish; to live without loving is to die. Ah! let - us live to love, and let us desire death in order to love still more. Let - us live to get love for what is alone supremely lovable, our dear Master, - our best of fathers. -{267} - By his side, and in his bosom, all pains lose their bitterness; and how - much of it do they not lose! He forgets nothing that can embellish our - crown; and to suffer for so good a Master has its own special charm; - suffering love is the best love. Adieu, my beloved child; your father - will always love you, as the old curate of St. Germain loved you, and--to - end with that sweet title--as _the Missioner of Somers-town_ loved - you." - -In November he was installed with the orphans, whom he had left in England -until he was ready for them, and the ladies who instructed them, in what -was to be his home henceforth, with the exception of his second brief -exile, until death, a house in the _Impasse des Feuillantines_ in the -Faubourg St. Jacques. Thirty of his pupils were paid for by the king, and -others received at his own risk. On the 1st of the following March Napoleon -landed from Elba, and at Lyons, on his way to Paris, ordered all returned -exiles who had come back without his leave to quit France within a -fortnight, under pain of death. On the 4th, all unconscious of what had -happened, the merry old lady who was at the head of the establishment, and -styled herself _Religieuse indigne du Monastère des Feuillantines_, -was writing a letter, sparkling with fun, to invite the abbé's nephew to -come in June and keep with them the _triplex-majus_ feast of St. Guy. -Before the end of the month she and the abbé and most of the orphans were -again in banishment in London, and a crowd of fugitives were looking to him -again for help. An appeal to his "generous friends, the citizens of Great -Britain," brought in £500. - -At Kensington, whither he retired to avoid any appearance of interference -at Somers-town, he gave shelter to a young man, who was afterward too well -known as the Abbé de la Mennais. A great friendship sprang up between them; -and when the battle of Waterloo allowed of his return, Féli, as he was -familiarly called, clung to the Abbé de Carron, whom uncertainties about -his orphans detained in London, and accompanied him back to the -Feuillantines in December. "What a man!" he wrote to a common friend of the -abbé, whom he always called his good father, "or rather what a saint! I -hope, by the help of his advice, to settle at last to something. It is high -time. Thirty-three years lost, and worse than lost!" Happy would it have -been for him if be had been guided by his venerable friend's counsels. The -instincts of faith in the abbé made him suspect even the first volume of -the Essai sur l'Indifférence. When the second came out, he wrote a most -affectionate and touching letter, appealing from his head to his heart, and -imploring him not to go on writing. But it was too late. - -We regret that we cannot linger longer over the last days of the abbé. The -difficulties about his establishment at Rennes, which were not settled till -just before his death, prevented the return to his native place for which -he had hoped, and he remained at Paris. We intended to confine ourselves -mainly to his labors in England; and we have not space to dwell, as we -could wish, on that wonderful institution of the Feuillantines, where the -pupils never met a mistress without an embrace; where the great treat, -after some months of study, was a week of what our foolish would-be -governesses often call "menial drudgery," and the greatest treat of all was -to wait at table on parties of poor people and play with their children; -where Mr. (afterward Cardinal) Weld, whose daughter was married to Lord -Clifford in the chapel of the institution, and all the most pious priests -in Paris, came for edification and recreation; and whence relief flowed to -all the destitute in the city. The good old abbé died worn out with toil -and austerities, the chief of which, such as the wearing of spiked belts -and haircloths, were not known till after his death, on the 15th of March, -1821. -{268} -His memory was fresh at Somers-town; and at the requiem sung for him there -the chapel was crowded with rich and poor, all in mourning attire; and the -voice of the bishop preaching was interrupted by sobs and cries of grief. -The simple motto on his grave is _Pertransiit benifaciendo;_ and to -few could the words be more truly applied. "Needy, yet enriching many," -might be added as equally appropriate. The Catholics of England, as well as -of France, have good reason to thank God for the life and labors of Abbé -Carron. - ------- - - Translated From the French. - - The Birds' Friend. - - -For some years past, in the garden of the Tuileries, is seen, daily, a man -of middle height, with a respectable and roundness of figure, thick -mustaches, and beard slightly gray and bushy, who, as soon as he appears in -one of the walks bordering the terrace of the water, is surrounded by a -numerous brood of pigeons. He throws them a morsel of bread or cake which -he brings with him, and the birds are so familiar with him that, far from -flying away, they surround him, and dispute for his favors and liberality. -Some of them, even, his favorites, flying around his head, perch on his -shoulders, his arm or hand, and dip their bills in his mouth for their -accustomed nourishment. He is the subject of admiration for young mothers, -babies great and small, truant apprentices, and child nurses, generally. As -soon as the bird man arrives, they precipitate themselves in his train. He -advances majestically, and with quite an imposing air, followed by his -impromptu court, which holds back slightly, from respect, no doubt, and -fear of frightening the birds. Idle people who come every day to lounge in -the garden of the Tuileries take their daily walk or read the papers, join -the crowd of courtiers, and even Guignol himself, in presence of this -redoubtable concourse, sees his representations deserted, and the Petite -Provençe forsaken by the rheumatisms who come to seek a ray of sun on his -benches. The friend of the birds walks with a sense of his own importance, -and enjoys greatly the astonishment and homage of the crowd. With his cane -under his arm, his hat on his head, and as immovable as the dervish on his -minaret, or the little joist of the fable, he gravely accomplishes his -daily office. The young mothers are astonished, the children open their -large eyes, and I saw one of the smallest ones, Master Guguste, so terribly -frightened, because the birds were not afraid of him, that he hid himself -behind his big brother Aymer, and took in the whole scene by stealth, in -bo-peep style. Master Guguste will certainly ask his father, whom he has -led by the hand toward the place where the friend of the birds dines his -pets, how is it the pigeons fly around this man's head, and when he, Master -Guguste, runs toward them, they always fly away? The good little fellow -forgets to add that he throws stones at them--his age has no mercy--and -that the pigeons have the bad taste to prefer cake. - -{269} - -The birds' friend has become one of the sights of the Tuileries, and one of -the pleasures of the Parisians. They come from the marshes to see him; and -the provincial who arranges his programme for his visit to Paris never -forgets to write in his note-book: "To go and see the wild beasts breakfast -in the Garden of Plants; to go and see the hippopotamus bathe; to go and -see the pigeons eat in the garden of the Tuileries." Innocent people ask by -what talisman this man of the Tuileries has succeeded in taming the -pigeons. - -I think his method is a simple one, and that he has nothing in common with -the charmers of India, nor even with Madame Vandermersch, who has -astonished the saloons of Paris by the singular empire she exercises over -the feathered tribe. - -Then, the pigeons of the Tuileries, like all animals not tormented and -accustomed to a crowd, are not easily frightened. If you have ever been to -Venice, you have certainly seen the pigeons of the square of St. Mark. -These pigeons, whose history is very curious, date their origin from the -ancient republic of Venice. At that time, it was the custom on Palm Sunday -to let fly from the top of the principal door of the church of St. Mark a -large number of birds, with little rolls of paper so attached to their -claws as to force them to fall into the hands of the crowd who filled the -court, and disputed among themselves for this living prey. Some of these -birds, having succeeded in ridding themselves of their fetters, and -training the thread like the pigeon of La Fontaine, sought an asylum on the -roof of the church of St. Mark, and on that of the ducal palace, not far -from the celebrated leads that Silvio Pellico has described in "My -Prisons," and Lord Byron has cursed in his immortal verses. They multiplied -rapidly, and became the favorites of the population to such a degree that, -to respect popular opinion, the senate of Venice issued a decree, stating -that the pigeons of the square of St. Mark had become the guests of the -republic, and as such should be respected and nourished at the cost of the -state. While the republic of Venice existed, a man employed by the corn -administration of the city came every morning to distribute the rations of -the pigeons on the place of St. Mark and the Piazza. Since the -establishment of Austrian rule, the Venetians support their favorite birds -by voluntary contributions. Accustomed to live in peace with man, the -pigeons of the place of St. Mark have become exceedingly familiar. They -never fly away at the approach of the promenaders, and I have seen them -perched on the edge of the buckets of the water-carriers, to quench their -thirst, and not even take flight when these women took their buckets by the -handle. In truth, the whole secret of taming animals consists in not -frightening them by movements too sudden or by noise, never injuring them, -and always treating them well. - -If you have never seen the pigeons of the place of St. Mark at Venice, you -have certainly seen the fishes of the large pond at Fontainebleau come in -bands to dispute the bread thrown to them; the swans of the basins of the -Tuileries swim toward the children who throw them crumbs of their cakes; -the small elephants of the Garden of Plants put forth their trunks gently -to seize a piece of rye bread; and more than one young girl has amused -herself during the winter in spreading the crumbs from her table on her -balcony, to see flocks of sparrows tumble down and help themselves at the -well-set table, doing honor to the banquet, without considering in the -least the pretty blonde head and the laughing mouth assisting their repast. - -You see, it is always the same process. What frightens animals is noise, -sudden movements, and especially bad treatment. - -When man makes friends of them, it is rarely they do not respond to his -advances. You know the history of Androcles and his lion, of Pellisson and -his spider, and a hundred others of the same kind. I do not speak of -domestic animals, the dog especially, our faithful companion. -{270} -The Bible itself, the book of books, in relating the return of the young -Tobias conducted by the angel to his father, has in honor of this faithful -animal these charming lines: "Then the dog, who had followed them all the -way, ran before them, and, like a courier who might have preceded them, he -testified his joy by the wagging of his tail." The grand poet of paganism, -Homer, in his turn, has described in the most touching and heartfelt -verses, Ulysses, on his return to Ithaca, unknown to Penelope, Telemachus, -and his retainers, but recognized by the dog, who died of joy at his feet. -But passing by the dog who is our friend, savage animals show themselves no -less sensible to man's goodness, and as we read the legends of monks of the -Merovingian time, who lived hid in the depths of forests, it seems that -virtue can give man the same empire over animals which he had in his first -days of innocence. M. de Montalembert, in his Moines d'Occident, has -recounted many legends of this nature. A huge boar, pursued by hunters, -fled for asylum to the cell of St. Basil, which he had constructed in the -thickest part of the mountain forest of Rheims. Again, St. Laumer, -wandering in the forest of Perche, and chanting psalms, met a hind flying -before several wolves. To him, she was the symbol and image of the -Christian soul pursued by demons; he wept for pity, and cried to the -wolves: "Enraged executioners, return to your dens, and leave this poor -little beast; the Lord arrest this prey from your bloodthirsty mouths." The -wolves stopped at his voice, and retraced their steps. "Behold," said the -saint to his companion, "how the devil, of all wolves the most ferocious, -seeks ever some one to strangle and devour in the church of Christ." -Meanwhile the hind followed him, and he passed nearly two hours in -caressing her before returning to his home. - -Recitals of this nature are numerous. It was the lion of the Abbé Gérasime, -whose monastery was on the borders of the Jordan, who, having loved the -monk during his life, came to die on his tomb. The wolf of another solitary -waited at his door for the remains of his humble repast, and never retired -without licking his hand. Irish legends tell us of stags of the forests -coming to present their heads to the yoke to draw the plough. Everywhere we -find man's power over animals established by sanctity. "Can we be -astonished," said Bède on this subject, "if he who faithfully and loyally -obeys his Creator sees in his turn inferior creatures subject to his -command?" - -Among the legendary recitals we find none more touching than those written -of St. François d'Assise, whose heart overflowed with tenderness to -animals. We read in a legend that this great saint, who had a beautiful and -harmonious voice, hearing one evening the song of a nightingale, was -tempted to respond, so that he passed the night in chanting, alternately -with the bird, the praises of God. The legend adds that François was -exhausted the first, and praised the bird that had so completely vanquished -him. - -Who has not read in the Franciscan Poets the miracle of the saint who -converted the ferocious wolf of Gubbio, and how he tamed the wild -turtle-doves, a present from a pious young man, while saying to them: "O my -simple and innocent doves! how will you ever be tamed? But I must save you -from death, and make you nests, that you may obey the command of our -Creator." And the turtle-doves, by degrees less wild, commenced to deposit -their eggs, like hens, covering them before the brothers, and nourished by -their hands. In conclusion, let us recall the exordium of a delightful -sermon related in the Franciscan Poets, and addressed by the saint to a -multitude of birds, attentive to his voice, a sermon related to Brother -Jacques de Massa by Brother Massio, one of St. Francis's favorite -disciples: "My birds, you are extremely obliged to God, our Creator, and -always and in every place you ought to praise him, because he has given you -liberty to fly everywhere, has clothed you with double and triple -vestments, and has preserved your species in the ark of Noah. -{271} -Besides, you neither sow nor reap, and God cares for you; gives you streams -and fountains to quench your thirst, mountains and valleys for your refuge, -and large trees in which to make your nests." But we have rambled from the -commencement of our story. We began in the garden of the Tuileries, and end -in another garden, a mystical one, where we gather flowers from St. -Francis. - - ------- - - From Chambers's Journal - - Time-Measurers. - - -There is, perhaps, no subject more interesting to human nature than that of -time. Like eternity, it concerns us all; and, unlike it, exacts as well as -demands our attention. True, as Sir Walter Scott writes, "it is but a -shadowy name, a succession of breathings measured forth by night with the -clank of a bell, by day with a shadow crossing along a dial stone;" but we -cannot shut our eyes for very long to the fact of its passage. If in our -youth we strive to kill it, so all the more in our age do we strive to -lengthen its too brief hours out. Even the means by which to note its -course have naturally engaged the minds of men in all ages; they have been -very diverse and ingenious, and a due record of them cannot fail to contain -many curious particulars. Such a work has been recently published in Mr. -Wood's Curiosities of Clocks and Watches. Even the diligence of our author, -however, does not seem to have discovered at what period the present method -of beginning the day at midnight came into use; but it is supposed to have -been an ecclesiastical invention. Among the early Romans, the day was -divided into twelve hours, from sunrise to sunset, the length of which, -therefore, varied with the seasons. The Egyptians, Mexicans, and Persians -reckoned the day to begin from sunrise, and divided it into four intervals, -determined by the rising and setting of the sun, and its two passages over -the meridian. Our own uniform hours of sixty minutes each could scarcely -have come into use until something like the wheel-clock was invented: the -ancient sun-dial represented hours of a length varying with the seasons, -and the clepsydra (or water-clock) was adjusted to furnish hours of fifty -to seventy minutes each, to suit the changing lengths of day and night. -Clocks, even so late as the reign of James I., were often called horologes; -and, up to the fourteenth century, the word clock was applied only to the -bell which rang out the hours, or certain periods determined by the -sun-dial or sand-glass. To this day, the bell of Wells cathedral is still -called the horologe. - -The clepsydra is said to have been invented by the censor Scipio Nasica, -595 B.C. The principle of these early time-measurers was a very simple one. -"In those of the common kind, the water issued drop by drop through a small -hole in the vessel that contained it, and fell into a receiver, in which -some light floating body marked the height of the water as it rose, and by -these means the time that had elapsed. In a bas-relief of the date of the -lower empire, figuring the Hippodrome in Constantinople, a clepsydra, in -the shape of an oviform vase, appears. It is very simply mounted, being -traversed by an axis, and turned with a crooked handle. -{272} -By this contrivance, the instantaneous inversion of the vase was secured, -and the contents, escaping in a certain definite time, showed the number of -minutes which were taken up by each _missus_, or course. Vitruvius -tells us of the construction of a clepsydra which, besides the hours, told -the moon's age, the zodiacal sign for the month, and several other things; -in fact, it was a regular astronomical clock. His details now read somewhat -obscure and complicated; but the principle was that a float, as it moved -upward by means of a vertical column fixed in it, drove different sets of -cog-wheels, which impelled in their turn other sets, by means of which -figures were made to move, obelisks to twirl round, pebbles to be -discharged, trumpets to sound, and many other tricks to be put into action. -The admission-pipe for the water was made either of gold or a perforated -gem, in order that it might not wear away, or be liable to get foul." The -floats sometimes communicated with wheels which worked hands on dials, or -supported human figures which pointed with hands to certain numbers as the -water rose; and in some ingenious water-clocks the fluid flowed as tears -from eyes of automata; but all these _clepsydrae_ had two great -defects: the one being that the flow varied with the density of the -atmosphere; the other, that the water flowed quicker at last than at first. -They were, however, put to one excellent use, which has, unhappily, fallen -into decay: they were set up in the law-courts to time counsel; "to prevent -babbling, that such as spoke ought to be brief in their speeches." For this -custom, the world was indebted to the Romans (especially Pompey), and from -it Martial is supplied with a pleasant sarcasm: perceiving a dull declaimer -moistening his lips with a glass of water, he suggests that it would be a -relief to the audience as well as to himself if he would take his liquor -from the clepsydra. - -With some mechanical additions, the ancient clepsydras were made to do -wonderful things besides stopping lawyers' tongues. Haroun-al-Raschid sent -(in 807), by two monks of Jerusalem, to the Emperor Charlemagne a brass -water-clock, the dial of which was composed of twelve small doors -representing the divisions of the hours; each door opened at the hour it -was intended to represent, and out of it came the same number of little -balls, which fell one by one, at equal distances of time, on a brass drum. -It might be told by the eye what hour it was by the number of doors that -were open, and by the ear by the number of balls that fell. When it was -twelve o'clock, twelve horsemen in miniature issued forth at the same time, -and, marching round the dial, shut all the doors. - -Hour-glasses, called clepsammia, in which sand took the place of water, -were modifications of the clepsydrae. Candle-clocks were used as -time-measurers by some, and especially by our own Alfred the Great. "To -rightly divide his time, be adopted the following simple expedient: he -procured as much wax as weighed seventy-two pennyweights, which he -commanded to be made into six candles, each twelve inches in length, with -the divisions of inches distinctly marked upon it. These being lighted one -after another regularly, burned four hours each, at the rate of an inch for -every twenty minutes. Thus the six candles lasted twenty-four hours. The -tending of these candle-clocks he confided to one of his domestic -chaplains, who constantly from time to time gave him notice of their -wasting. But when the winds blew, the air, rushing in through the doors, -windows, and crevices of his rude habitation, caused his candles to gutter, -and, by fanning the flame, to burn faster. The ingenious king, in order to -remedy this serious inconvenience, caused some fine white horn to be -scraped so thin as to be transparent, which he let into close frames of -wood; and in these primitive lanthorns his wax-clocks burned steadily in -all weathers." - -{273} - -The invention of wheel-clocks is attributed by some to Archimedes so early -as 200 B.C.; by others to Wallingford so late as the beginning of the -fourteenth century; but in the Book of Landaff, describing the life of St. -Teilavus, who made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem at the end of the fifth -century, it is stated that he returned to Britain with three precious -gifts, and among them "a bell greater in fame than in size, and in value -than in beauty. It convicts the perjured, and cures the infirm; and what -seems still more wonderful is, that _it did sound every hour without -being touched_, until it was prevented by the sin of men, who rashly -handled it with polluted hands, and it ceased from so delightful an -office." They looked their gift-clock in the mouth, and probably disturbed -the works. - -St. Paul's had a clock of some sort at a very early period; in the year -1286, allowances to "Bartholomo Orologiario" (the clock-keeper) being -entered, in its accounts, of so much bread and beer. Iron and steel were -used for the wheels and frames until the end of the sixteenth century, and -blacksmiths were the chief clock-makers. Chaucer, who died in 1400, remarks -of a punctual cock of his acquaintance: - - "Full sikerer was his crowing and his loge - Then his a clock or any abbey orologe;" - -or: - - "As certain was is crowing in his roost - As any clock or abbey orologe;" - -which might probably have been truthfully said of many a less punctual -bird; for, to judge by the old parish account-books, these blacksmiths' -clocks were not good goers, and were for ever being rectified. That of St. -Alban's abbey, however, was an exception. It was constructed at a great -cost by Richard de Wallingford, son of a blacksmith in the town in -question, but afterward made abbot for his learning (1330), and his clock -was "going" in Henry VIII.'s reign. It noted the course of the sun and -moon, the rising and setting of the planets and fixed stars, and the ebb -and flow of the tide. When the good abbot felt his end drawing nigh, his -thoughts being fixed on time as well as eternity, he left a book of -directions for keeping this piece of mechanism in order. - -For ingenuity and complication, however, all ancient clocks must hide their -dials in the presence of that of Strasburg cathedral. "Before this clock -stands a globe on the ground, showing the motions of the heavens, stars, -and planets. The heavens are carried about by the first mover in -twenty-four hours. Saturn, by it proper motion, is carried about in thirty -years; Jupiter, in twelve; Mars, in two; the Sun, Mercury, and Venus, in -one year; and the moon in one month. In the clock itself are two tables on -the right and left hand, showing the eclipses of the sun and moon for the -year 1573 to 1624. The third table in the middle is divided into two parts. -In the first part, the statues of Apollo and Diana show the course of the -year and the day thereof, being carried about one year. The second part -shows the year of our Lord, and the equinoctial days, the hours of each -day, and the minutes of each hour, Easter-day, and all the other feasts, -and the dominical letter; and the third part hath the geographical -description of all Germany, and particularly of Strasburg, and the names of -the inventor and the workmen. In the middle frame of the clock is an -astrolabe, showing the sign in which each planet is every day; and there -are statues of the seven planets upon a circular plate of iron; so that -every day the planet that rules the day comes forth, the rest being hid -within the frames, till they come out, of course, at their day, as the sun -upon Sunday, and so for all the week. There is a terrestrial globe, which -shows the quarter, the half hour, and the minutes. There is a figure of a -human skull, and statues of two boys, whereof one turns the hour-glass when -the clock has struck, and the other puts forth the rod in his hand at each -stroke of the clock. Moreover, there are statues of spring, summer, autumn, -and winter, and many observation of the moon. -{274} -In the upper part of the clock are four old men's statues, which strike the -quarters of the hour. The statue of death comes out at each quarter to -strike, but is driven back by the statue of Christ, with a spear in his -hand, for three quarters; but in the fourth quarter death strikes the hour -with the bone in his hand, and then the chimes sound. On the top of the -clock is the image of a cock, which twice in a day crows aloud and claps -his wings. Besides, this clock is decked with many rare pictures, and, -being on the inside of the church, carries another frame to the outside of -the walls, whereon the hours of the sun, the courses of the moon, the -length of the day, and such other things are set out with much art." But -perhaps the most striking part of the history of this famous Strasburg -clock was that it was made, or, at all events, perfected, by a blind man. -The artisan who contrived it lost his sight, and was superseded; but since -nobody else would carry out his ideas, and he refused to communicate them, -he was reinstated in his work, and actually carried out the affair, in all -its intricate delicacy, to the end. There are several other examples of -blind clockmakers, and even watchmakers. "The Illustrated London News of -August 23, 1851, tells us that there was then living at Holbeach, -Lincolnshire, a watchmaker named Rippin, who was completely blind. He was a -first-rate hand at his business, and it was truly surprising to observe -with what ease he could take to pieces and place together again watches of -the most delicate mechanism. Some years previously, Rippin was robbed, and -the property taken from him consisted of watch-wheels, hair springs, and -other tiny things belonging to the trade. The thief was traced, and -convicted at Spalding sessions, the blind man having sworn to his property -by feeling." - -Those who are accustomed only to eight-day clocks will be astonished to -learn that some time-pieces have been made to go for a hundred years! The -Marquis of Bute had one at Luton Park; and "in Sir John Moore's account of -his 'large sphere-going clock-work' (Mathem. Compend.) we read that it made -a revolution of once in seventeen thousand one hundred years, by means of -six wheels and five pinions, for the sun's apogeum." Instead of "it made," -one should surely here read "it was made to make," since the oldest -inhabitant could scarcely certify to the fact having been performed. In -1859, after years of labor, James White, of Wickham Market, completed a -self-winding clock, which determined the time with unfailing accuracy, -continuing a constant motion by itself, never requiring to be wound up, and -being capable of perpetuating its movements so long as its component parts -should exist. - -Italy boasts of some curious native clockwork. Early in the last century, -at the Palazzo di Colonna at Rome, was a portable clock, which was wound up -only once a year, and showed the hour of the day, the month, and the year; -and the popes possessed for two centuries a horological marvel, which, -passing through the hands of King William I. of the Netherlands, was -exhibited to our Royal Society so late as 1848. This was produced solely by -manual labor, without any other help than the bench of the turner and the -file; yet it shows the date of the month and all the Catholic feasts and -holidays throughout the year. Seven heathen gods make their appearance, -each on his proper week-day, exactly in front, and is relieved, after -twenty-four hours' duty, by the next. "In the centre of the second division -(the clock being a tower of three stories) is an image of the Virgin, -holding her son Jesus in her arms; two angels are seen placing crowns and -garlands on her head; and during the performance of the bells, several -angels appear making their obeisance before the image of Mary and the -Saviour. Within the centre of the third division is a metal bell hanging on -a gilt plate of copper, on which is represented the judgment-day. -{275} -Round this metal plate move four silver figures, set in motion by -mechanism, representing the four states of social life. These images point -out the quarters of the hour by striking the bell; the first quarter is -represented by a youth, the second by a grave citizen, the third by a Roman -soldier, and the fourth by a priest. In the fourth division is likewise a -metal bell, on the sides of which are chambers; on the left side is the -representation of death, proclaiming the hours of day and night by striking -the bell; above it is seen a Latin inscription, from Romans, chapter vii. -verse 23. At the right side is the image of the Saviour, stepping forward, -with the globe in his hand, and above it the cross. This figure proceeds -every two minutes in a slow manner, and then, for a moment, hides itself -from view; above it is a Latin verse from the prophet Hosea, chapter xiii. -These two figures are of massive silver. Behind the bell is inscribed the -name of the artist, and the date 1589." Many ancient clocks upon the -continent exhibit processions of saints and various other religious -automata; but the most singular of all, perhaps, is one in the cathedral of -St. John at Lyon. On the top of it stands a cock, that every three hours -claps his wings and crows thrice. In a gallery underneath, a door opens on -one side, and out comes the Virgin Mary; and from a door on the other side -the angel Gabriel, who meets and salutes her. At the same time a door opens -in the alcove part, out of which the form of a dove, representing the Holy -Ghost, descends upon the Virgin's head. After this, these figures retire, -and from a door in the middle comes forth the figure of a reverend father, -lifting up his hand and giving his benediction to the spectators. The days -of the week are represented by seven figures, each of which takes its place -in a niche on the morning of the day that it represents, and continues -there until midnight. The greatest curiosity is an oval plate marked with -the minutes of an hour, which are exactly pointed out by a hand reaching -the circumference, that insensibly dilates and contracts itself during the -revolution. This curious machine, although not so perfect now in all its -movements as when it was originally constructed, has suffered but little -injury during a long course of years, owing to the care and skill of those -who were appointed to look after it. It appears from an inscription on the -clock itself that it was repaired and improved by one Morrison in 1661; but -it was contrived long before that time by Nicholas Lipp, a native of Basle, -who finished it in 1598, when he was about thirty years of age. The oval -minute motion was invented by M. Servier, and is of later date. There is a -tradition that the ingenious artist, Lipp, had his eyes put out by order of -the magistrates of Lyon, that he might not be able to make another clock -like this; but so far from this being true, the justices of Lyon engaged -him to take care of his own machine, at a handsome salary. - -Ingenious, however, as are the quasi-religious automata above mentioned, -how inferior are they in human interest when compared with the time-piece -possessed by Mrs. Forester at Great Brickhill, Bucks, "the identical clock -which was at Whitehall at the time of the execution of Charles I., and by -which the fatal moment was regulated." At that period (the seventeenth -century), there was a great taste for striking-clocks. "Several of them, -made by Thomas Tompion, who invented many useful things in clock-work, not -only struck the quarters on eight bells, but also the hour after each -quarter. At twelve o'clock, forty-four blows were struck, and one hundred -and thirteen between twelve and one o'clock. Failures in the striking -mechanism of these clocks were attended with much annoyance to the owners -of them, for they would go on striking without cessation until the weight -or spring had gone down, and they were frequently contrived to go for a -month. - -{276} - -In 1696, a very remarkable clock was made for "Le Grand Monarque," whom -science as well as literature, it seems, delighted to flatter. Louis was -therein represented upon his throne, surrounded by the electors of the -German states and the princes of Italy, who advanced toward him doing -homage, and retired chiming the quarters of the hours with their canes. The -kings of Europe did the same, except that they struck the hours instead of -the quarters. The maker, Burdeau, advertised his intention of exhibiting -this work of art in public, and knowing the stubborn resistance offered to -his sovereign by William III., be determined to make the English monarch's -effigy particularly pliant, so that when its turn came he should show an -especial humility. "William, thus compelled, bowed very low indeed; but, at -the same moment, some part of the machinery snapped asunder, and threw 'Le -Grand Monarque' prostrate from his chair at the feet of the British king. -The news of the accident spread in every direction as an omen; the king was -informed of it, and poor Burdeau was confined in the Bastille." - -Clock-omens, it seems, have not been confined to the work of this -unfortunate Frenchman, "A correspondent of Notes and Queries" for March 28, -1861, relates the following account of a curious omen or coincidence: 'On -Wednesday night, or rather Thursday morning, at three o'clock, the -inhabitants of the metropolis were roused by repeated strokes of the new -great bell at Westminster, and most persons supposed it was for a death in -the royal family. There might have been about twenty slow strokes when it -ceased. It proved, however, to be due to some derangement of the clock, for -at four and five o'clock, ten or twelve strokes were struck instead of the -proper number. On mentioning this in the morning to a friend who is deep in -London antiquities, he observed that there is an opinion in the city that -anything the matter with St. Paul's great bell is an omen of ill to the -royal family; and he added: "I hope the opinion will not extend to the -Westminster bell." This was at eleven on Friday morning. I see by the Times -this morning, that it was not till 1 A.M. the lamented Duchess of Kent was -considered in the least danger, and, as you are aware, she expired in less -than twenty-four hours. ... I am told the same notion obtains at Windsor.'" - -A century after Burdeau's masterpiece, a much more useful work, and one -perhaps equally characteristic of the nationality of its maker, was -executed for George III. by Alexander Cumming, of Edinburgh, which -registered the height of the barometer. "This was effected by a circular -card, of about two feet in diameter, being made to turn once in a year, the -card was divided by radii lines into three hundred and sixty-five -divisions, the months and days being marked round the edge, while the usual -range of the barometer was indicated in inches and tenths by circular lines -described from the centre. A pencil, with a fine point pressed on the card -by a spring, and held by an upright rod floating on the mercury, accurately -marked the state of the barometer; the card, being carried forward by the -clock, brought each day to the pencil. It was not even necessary to change -the card at the year's end, as a pencil with a different-colored lead would -make a distinction between two years. This barometer-clock cost nearly two -thousand pounds, and the maker was allowed a salary of two hundred pounds -per annum to keep it in repair." - -{277} - -Taking leave of these ingenious complications, we may say indeed that in -nothing has "man sought out many inventions," or exhibited his diligence -and patience, more than in the science of clockmaking. Earth, air, fire, -and water have been pressed into his service for his purpose; the sand or -earth clock being worked like the water-clock; the air-clock consisting in -the pumping of a bellows, like those of an organ, the gradual escape of the -air regulating the descent of a weight, which carried round the wheels; and -the fire-clock being formed upon the principle of the smoke-jack, the -"wheels being moved by means of a lamp, which also gave light to the dial; -this clock was made to announce the several hours by placing at each a -corresponding number of crackers, which were exploded at proper times." -This very alarming time-piece was outdone by a cannon-clock placed in 1832 -in the gardens of the Palais-Royal. "A burning-glass was fixed over the -vent of a cannon, so that the sun's rays at the moment of its passing the -meridian were contracted by the glass on the priming, and the piece was -fired; the burning-glass being regulated for this purpose every month." At -Greenwich Observatory there is a most ingenious wind-clock, which, however, -is not a time-measurer, but registers for itself, with pencil and paper, -the wayward action of the wind. "Each minute and each hour has its written -record, without human help or inspection. Once a day only, an assistant -comes to put a new blank sheet in the place of that which has been covered -by the moving pencils, and the latter is taken away to be bound up in a -volume. This book might with truth be lettered, The History of the Wind; -written by Itself: an AEolian Autobiography." - -The well-known and simple piece of mechanism called a cuckoo-clock has been -the cause of some spiritual mischief. An assortment of them was taken by -certain missionaries to the Friendly Islands, the inhabitants of which -resolutely refused to attribute them to science; they believed that each -contained a spirit, which would detect a thief if anything were stolen from -their English visitors. When a native was sick, a cuckoo-clock was always -sent for, as being "great medicine." Unfortunately, however, one of the -clocks got out of order, and since the missionaries did not understand how -to set it right, they fell into contempt, and lost their usefulness. - -The two most curious examples of clock-work--apart from intricacy--to which -Mr. Wood has introduced us are the clock-lock and the clock-bed. The -former, made by a locksmith of Frankfort in 1859, consisted of a strong box -without any keyhole at all, and which even its owner could not open. Inside -was a clock-work, the hand of which, when the box was open, the owner -placed at the hour and minute when he again wanted to have access to the -interior of the box. The works began to move as soon as the lid was shut, -and time alone was the key. The clock-bed was the invention of a Bohemian -in 1858, and was so constructed that a pressure upon it caused a soft and -gentle air of Auber's to be played, which continued long enough to lull to -sleep the most wakeful. At the head was a clock, the hand of which being -placed at the hour that the sleeper wished to rise, when the time arrived -the bed played a march of Spontoni's (spontaneously) with drums and -cymbals, enough to rouse the Seven Sleepers. - -The great time-piece of Westminster, which receives Greenwich time by -electricity, exhibits no sensible error in less than a month. Mr. Airy's -last report upon its rate was that the first blow of the hour may be relied -on within less than one second a week; which is a seven times greater -accuracy than was required in the original conditions under which the clock -was built. - -{278} - -A proportionate part of Mr. Wood's interesting volume is devoted to the -smaller subject of watches. The invention of the coiled spring as a motive -power instead of the weight used in clocks seems to have taken place in -1477, at Nuremberg, where watches were first made, and called, from their -oval shape, Nuremberg eggs. In 1530. we find Charles V., in his retirement -at the monastery of St. Yuste, amusing himself with "portable clocks;" -reflecting: "How foolish I was to have squandered so much blood and -treasure to make men think alike, when I can't even make a few watches keep -uniform time;" and good naturedly observing, when a monk overthrew them -all: "I have been laboring for some time to make these watches go together, -and now you have effected it in one instant." This emperor possessed one -watch that was made "in the jewel or collet of his ring," so that -diminutiveness of construction must have been rapidly attained. George -III., however, had a repeating watch presented to him (by Arnold of -Devereux Court, in the Strand) whose size did not exceed that of a silver -twopenny-piece. "It contained one hundred and twenty different parts, but -altogether weighed not more than five pennyweights, seven grains and -three-fourths. ... For this delicate and exquisite specimen of his art, -Arnold had to make nearly all the tools used in its manufacture. This tiny -watch contained the first ruby cylinder ever made, The king presented -Arnold with five hundred guineas; and when the Emperor of Russia offered a -thousand guineas for a similar one, the watchmaker refused to make it lest -he should depreciate the value of his gift." - -Sir John Dick Lauder possesses a skull-watch that belonged to Mary Queen of -Scots; this is of silver gilt, and ornamented with representations of death -between the palace and the cottage; the garden of Eden, and the -crucifixion; the holy family at Bethlehem, etc. The works are as brains in -the skull, the hollow of which is filled by a silver bell; the dial-plate -being on a flat upon the roof of the mouth. With reference to this ghastly -subject, Mr. Wood relates that, in a French engraving of 1830, death enters -a watchmaker's shop, and shows his hour-glass to the master, saying: -"_Vais-je bien?_" to which the latter answers: "_Vous avancez -horriblement._" Many persons addicted to the science of watchmaking -seem, indeed, to have been on unusually familiar terms with the king of -terrors; and some have left epitaphs behind them of a very characteristic -nature. In the churchyard of Lydford, in Devonshire, is to be read the -following: - - "Here lies in a _horizontal_ position, - the outside _case_ of - George Rautleigh, watchmaker, - whose abilities in that line were an honor to his profession. - Integrity was the _mainspring_, and prudence the - _regulator_ of all the _actions_ of his life; - Humane, generous, and liberal, his _hand_ never - _stopped_ till he had relieved distress; - So nicely _regulated_ was his _movements_, - that he never _went wrong_, - except when _set-agoing_ - by people who did not know his _key_; - Even then he was easily _set right_ again. - He had the art of disposing of his _time_ so well, - That his _hours_ glided away in one - continual _round_ of pleasure and delight, - Till an unlucky _moment_ put a _period_ to his existence. - He departed this life November 14, 1802, - Aged 57, _wound up_. - In hopes of being taken in hand by his Maker; - And of being thoroughly _cleaned, repaired_, and - _set-agoing_ for the world to come." - -Of course, watches could not be made to imitate the feats of the Strasburg -clock; but in the Academy of Sciences at St. Petersburg there is a watch -which was made by a Russian peasant, named Kulubin, in the reign of -Catharine II., which is sufficiently wonderful. It is about the size of an -egg, and contains a representation of the tomb of Christ, with the Roman -sentinels. On pressing a spring, the stone is rolled from the tomb, the -sentinels fall down, the angels appear, the holy women enter the sepulchre, -and the same chant which is sung in the Greek Church on Easter eve is -accurately performed. - -The most costly and elaborate watch ever produced by British workmen, up to -1844, was made in that year by Hart & Son of Cornhill, for the Sultan Abdul -Medschid; the brilliancy of its colors and exquisiteness of its pencilling -seem to have surpassed anything of the kind of foreign manufacture. It -struck the hours and quarters by itself, and repeated them with the minutes -upon pressing a small gold slide; and the sound, produced by wires instead -of a bell, resembled that of a powerful and harmonious cathedral clock. Its -price was one thousand two hundred guineas. - -{279} - -The most accurately exact watch is probably Mr. Benson's Chronograph, used -for timing the Derby. "It consists of an ordinary quick train lever -movement, on a scale sufficiently large to carry the hands for an -eight-inch dial, and with the addition of a long seconds-hand, which -traverses the dial, instead of being, as usual, just above the figure VI. -The peculiarity of the chronograph consists in this seconds-hand and the -mechanism connected with it. The hand itself is double, or formed of two -distinct hands, one lying over the other. The lower one, at its extreme -end, is furnished with a small cup or reservoir, with a minute orifice at -the bottom. The corresponding extremity of the upper hand is bent over so -as to rest exactly over this puncture, and the reservoir having been filled -with ink of a thickness between ordinary writing fluid and printer's ink, -the chronograph is ready for action. The operator, who holds tightly -grasped in his hand a stout string connected with the mechanism peculiar to -this instrument, keeps a steady lookout for the fall of the starter's flag. -Simultaneously, therefore, with the start of the race, the string he holds -is pulled by him, and at the same moment the upper hand dips down through -the reservoir in the lower, and leaves a little dot or speck of ink upon -the dial. This is repeated as the horses pass the winning-post, so that a -lasting and indisputable record is afforded by the dots on the dial of the -time--exact to the tenth of a second--which is occupied in running the -race. As an example of the results of this instrument's operations, we may -add that it timed the start and arrival of the Derby race in 1866 as -follows: Start, 3 hours 34 min, 0 sec,; arrival, 3 hours 36 min. 49 sec.; -duration of race, 2 min. 49 sec." - -To give an idea of the extraordinary division of labor in this delicate -science, it was stated in evidence before a committee of the House of -Commons, that there are one hundred and two distinct branches of the art of -watchmaking, and that the watch finisher, whose duty it is to put together -the scattered parts, is the only one of the hundred and two persons who can -work in any other department than his own. The hair-spring gives a very -curious proof of the value that can be given to a small piece of steel by -manual labor. Four thousand hair-springs scarcely weigh more than a single -ounce, but often cost more than a thousand pounds. "The pendulum-spring of -a watch, which governs the vibrations of the balance, costs, at the retail -price, two-pence, and weighs three-twentieths of a grain; while the retail -price of a pound of the best iron, the raw material out of which fifty -thousand such springs are made, is the same sum of two-pence." Mr. -Bennett--whose advocacy of female labor in the watch-trade has rendered him -obnoxious to some persons--states that he found at Neufchâtel, where the -Swiss watches are chiefly made, twenty thousand women employed upon the -more delicate parts of the watch-movement. - -The last part of this very interesting volume is devoted to that perfection -of timekeepers, the chronometer, by which is found the longitude of a ship -at sea. Twenty thousand pounds was offered by the British government for -the invention of this instrument, which was awarded to John Harrison in -1765. His chronometer, in the first instance, was discredited on a voyage -to Jamaica, since it differed with the chart by a degree and a half, but it -was eventually discovered that it was the chart that was wrong. Of how -accurately chronometers are made, there are numberless instances; here is -one with which we must conclude. "After several months spent at sea," -writes Dr. Arnott, "in a long passage from South America to Asia, my -pocket-chronometer, and others on board, announced one morning that a -certain point of land was then bearing north from the ship, at a distance -of fifty miles. -{280} -In an hour afterward, when a mist had cleared away, the looker-out on the -mast gave the joyous call of 'Land ahead!' verifying the reports of the -chronometers almost to one mile, after a voyage of thousands of miles. It -is allowable at such a moment, with the dangers and uncertainties of -ancient navigation before the mind, to exult in contemplating what man has -now achieved. Had the rate of the wonderful little instrument in an that -time quickened or slackened ever so slightly, its announcement would have -been useless, or even worse; but in the night and in the day, in storm and -in calm, in heat and in cold, its steady beat went on, keeping exact -account of the rolling of the earth and stars; and in the midst of the -trackless waves, which retain no mark, it was always ready to tell its -magic tale, indicating the very spot on the globe over which it had -arrived." - -Among the relics of the Franklin expedition brought home from the arctic -regions by M'Clintock was a pocket-chronometer in excellent preservation; -it had stopped at four o'clock. The owner probably had done with time ere -that. - ------- - - Translated from Revue Génétale, Brussels. - - Catholic Doctrine and Natural Science. - -M. D'Omalius D'Halloy, in a discourse recently delivered at a general -annual meeting of the class of sciences of the Royal Academy of Belgium -(December 16th, 1866), treated the question which has frequently and -seriously occupied learned minds. Director of an order which has for the -past fifty years been signalized by assiduous labors and patient -researches, he has once again attested, with that superior authority which -none can deny, that "the pretence is shameful, that our religious teachings -are in opposition to the progress of natural science." We receive, with -respect and attention, this frank declaration as the testimony of a noble -mind surrounded with the double glory of science and faith. After the -exordium, the speaker thus pursued his demonstration: - -If we commence with that which related to the creation, we shall see, on -the one side, those men who, not wishing to forsake the ideas which were -formed in their early years, have profited by their influence in religious -matters to condemn others who do not desire to follow their conclusions in -regard to the phenomena of the natural development of the world; meanwhile, -on the other side, those men who, inflated by their pride, or prompted by -their desire to divest themselves of the restraint that religion imposes -upon their passions, have profited all they could in whatever they found -obscure or contradictory in the explanations of their adversaries to deny -divine inspiration to the sacred books, and consequently to the fundamental -principles of our religious belief. - -I am, on the contrary, led to believe that we can see nothing in the -cosmogony of the book of Genesis but the consecration of several grand -principles; namely, the existence of an all-powerful God anterior to -matter, and its creation by him. I acknowledge that our minds conceive with -difficulty these two principles, but it is more difficult to conceive the -existence of the universe and its admirable arrangement without the -pre-existence of [an] omnipotent being; one against whom neither science -nor reason could raise an objection, or refuse to admit the existence of -its two component principles. -{281} -When we say that God inspired our sacred books, we mean to convey that he -has caused certain men to understand the great truths which they contain; -we do not wish to assert that he has endowed these men with a complete -scientific knowledge. Besides, to comprehend all that study has revealed to -modern _savans_, they should speak or understand the rude language of -the age in question; even at this period, though civilization and the art -of printing have greatly increased the instruction of the masses, we find -astronomers speaking of the _rising_ and the _setting_ of the -sun. - -We should not take the sacred writings for other than what they really are; -namely, as the medium through which we are to understand the great -principles which form the basis of our religious belief; and not as -treatises upon natural science. - -The long periods, the existence of which has been revealed by the study of -the terrestrial globe, have also been placed in opposition to the recent -period which we find named in the Bible as the epoch of the creation. But -it is to be remarked, in the first place, that the term translated -_day_ has been erroneously rendered; the seven successive periods -indicated in the Bible as the limits of events were not confined to -twenty-four hours; and, in the second place, that the calculations derived -from the age and genealogy of the patriarchs should not be regarded as -imperative; first, because we do not possess the positive value of the -expression translated as _year_, and, further, because it appears that -a portion of the terms of the genealogical series has been lost in the -lapse of time. - -The question of the deluge has also given rise to numerous contradictions; -but it seems to me that we can say, on the one side, that these -contradictions support themselves upon the susceptible hypotheses of -discussion, and, on the other, upon the interpretations of modified nature -which they will eventually acknowledge. It is thus that, while there exist -in geology schools which deny the great cataclysms, there are others which -admit them; and we cannot deny that the theory which attributes the origin -of our high mountains to swellings of the crust of the earth relatively -recent, destroys the objections raised against the return of the waters -upon the materials forming the summits of our most elevated plateaux. -Notwithstanding the objections which anthropologists make against the -opinion that all mankind are descended from Noah, which agrees with pure -hypothesis, can we not say that the contrary opinion is founded upon but -one interpretation of Genesis, which cannot be very exact? Indeed, it -appears to me that the book, after the account of the creation, which -should be applied to the entire universe, does, while it always teaches the -power of God and the origin of things, assume: an especial character; -namely, it becomes a history of a people whom God had chosen to serve him -in a particular manner. Thus the history of the Bible does not relate to -any other people than the Hebrews, although these people had relations with -the most powerful races on the earth; the races that are willing to admit -that the deluge of which they speak submerged all the countries known to -the Hebrews, but not all the terrestrial globe. They object in this manner -to see that the book of Genesis gives to the deluge the title of universal; -but is not this one of those expressions often employed to designate -something understood? Do we not often say, All the world was united, all -Europe is afraid, all the world listens? Expressions of this kind are very -common in the florid style of the orientals; and, without leaving the -sacred books, do we not read of the Pentecost, that there were in the -assembly who listened to the apostles "Jews of all the nations under -heaven;" and in the enumeration of the countries from which they came, -"Rome was the most distant?" - -{282} - -If I here recall the hypotheses of the anthropology of all men who did not -actually descend from Noah, I am far from saying that they were not -descended from one couple. I have had, on the contrary, occasion to declare -that, according to my views, science, in its present state, is powerless to -resolve the question whether the human race is descended from one or from -several sources. However, I am convinced that the differences which -actually present themselves in the diverse human races have not manifested -themselves since the deluge of Noah. I have said, long since, that -paleontology has led me to admit that hereditary transformations are much -more important than the differences which exist in the human race. At all -times admitting that man has hardly suffered the transformations analogous -to those described in the paleontological order, I am far from concluding -that he descends from a beast. Existing observations do not disprove the -distinct creation attributed by the Bible to man. The opinion of some -authors, that all living beings derive their origin from a monad, is a -gratuitous hypothesis, which cannot be supported by facts. Quite to the -contrary, we learn, by paleontology, that all the great organic types -existed in the silurian period; and, if the vertebral type had not yet been -observed in the anterior deposits, this negative circumstance is considered -of small importance. For it is only a short time since that the existence -of organic remains in these deposits has been revealed; that these remains -are very rare, and that even they differ but slightly from those of the -silurian soil. Now, if the present state of observation leads us to admit -that the Creator originally and distinctly formed the great types of -organization, nothing authorizes us to deny that he created in a distinct -manner the only being endowed with the faculty of knowing and adoring him. - -On the other side, we do not see why the special origin of man is denied, -even if he should have changed his form with time, as I suppose other -living creatures may have done. Genesis tells us truly that God created man -in his own image; but we cannot understand this phrase to signify that he -himself actuated a material form. God has taken the human form under -certain circumstances to communicate with man, but no one maintains that -this is the normal form of an essentially spiritual being. The Bible, in -speaking of the image of the Deity, scarcely alludes to the material and -decomposable part of man, but always to the spiritual part; which, to be -the _image of God_, should be endowed with immortality. But this -spiritual part, which we call the soul, may have been placed in a being who -had a different form to that worn by man at the present time; one more -appropriate to the sphere in which he lived. Because God now permits the -existence of men, who, by their brutishness, assimilate to the beasts, we -see no reason for supposing that the first men had forms unsuited to the -development of the faculties which characterize the civilized world of -to-day. - -They have also denied particular immortality to human souls in assimilating -them to vital force, but this is one of those hypotheses unfounded upon any -observation. - -I am convinced that the life, that is to say, the vital force, or the union -of forces which gives to matter the attributes characteristic of organized -bodies, can be assimilated, to a certain degree, to the forces which -determine physical phenomena; because the condition of its effects are more -restrained, and only develop by continuation with the body with which it -was originally endowed, and is not a sufficient reason for concluding that -it belongs to an entirely different order of things. We see, in effect, -that the order of forces presents phenomena which becomes successively less -general; it is thus that attraction constantly acts upon all bodies, while -there exist circumstances where affinity acts upon certain bodies; and the -manifestation of electricity is due to conditions again less general. -{283} -On the other side, we cannot conceive the movement of the stars without the -first cause of impulsion, any more than we can conceive the birth of a -living being without the intervention of a pre-existing cause; we cannot -give to these connections any consequence contrary to the dogma of the -immortality of the soul. Nor can science decide whether physical phenomena -are owing to diverse forces, or to a single force that manifests itself in -various ways; neither resolve the question whether life is composed of an -individual force or the union of many. It is certain that _vegetable -life_, a term which we consider applicable to all living things, is -something different from _animal life_, a term applied to all sensible -beings. It is contended no longer that man has attributes not possessed by -beasts. Now we see nothing in physiology which opposes itself to these -aptitudes being determined by a particular force named the soul, and that -this force be endowed with immortality; that is to say, the power of -preserving eternally its individuality after separation from the matter -which it once animated. - -Although I am unfamiliar with physiological studies, I will add that these -considerations compel me to say that I have no right to apply the name of -soul to that force which animates beasts; not that I wish to rob certain -animals of the faculties which they enjoy, but whatever may be the -intelligence or social capacity with which these animals are endowed, they -cannot pretend to perform the _rôle_ that man maintains upon earth. -And neither physiology nor the sacred writings lead us to believe that the -force which animates beasts should be endowed with immortality. I can only -avow that the birth, the existence, and the death of an animal are but the -manifestation of a vital force determined by particular circumstances, as -lightning and thunder are but the manifestations of electricity. - -Again, according to my views, a religious sense has hardly been given to -the admission or the rejection of a human kingdom, a question frequently -agitated in these modern times. In fact, the division of natural bodies -into three kingdoms, with their inferior subdivisions, has only been made -to facilitate the knowledge of these beings, and to designate by name the -different groups of which we would speak. We cannot deny that by the -mineral, the animal, and the vegetable kingdoms we understand three -divisions, which include all bodies on the terrestrial globe; and that each -one has common attributes which are not found in the two others; it follows -that, when we admit a human kingdom, we have no term to designate the class -of beings possessing the attributes which distinguish man and the beasts -from the two other kingdoms. This consideration causes me to reject the -human kingdom, without always classing man in the animal; the enlargement -of the vertebrae and the mammiferous class appear to me to oppose -themselves in another order of ideas; we must, therefore, believe that man -is endowed with a soul enjoying attributes different from the force which -animates beasts. - -In conclusion, I do not hesitate to say that there exists in my mind no -real opposition between our religious belief and the demonstrations -afforded by the present state of the natural sciences. - ------- - -{284} - - Miscellany. - -_Meteoric Stones_.--M. Daubrée records his observations on a great -shower of meteoric stones which fell on the 30th of May, in the territory -of Saint Mesmin, in the Department of the Aube. Mr. Daubrée gives the -following account of the phenomenon: The weather being fine and dry, and -only a few clouds in the sky, at about 4,45 in the morning a luminous mass -was seen to cross the sky with great rapidity, and shedding a great light -between Mesgrigny and Payns. A few seconds after this appearance, three -loud explosions, like the report of cannon, were heard at intervals of one -or two seconds. Several minor explosions, like those of muskets, followed -the first, and succeeded one another like the discharge of skirmishers. -After the detonations a tongue of fire darted toward the earth, and at the -same time a hissing noise was heard like that of a squib, but much louder. -This again was followed by a dull, heavy sound, which a person compared to -that of a shell striking the earth near him. After a long search he -perceived, at the distance of about two hundred feet from the place where -he was when he heard the noise, a spot where the earth had been newly -disturbed; he examined the place, and saw a black stone at the bottom of a -hole nine inches deep, which it seemed to have formed. This stone weighs -nearly ten pounds. On the following day a gendarme named Framonnot picked -up another meteoric stone of the same nature, weighing nearly seven pounds, -at about two thousand feet distant from where it first fell. A third stone -was found on the first of June by a man named Prosat, five to six thousand -feet from the two spots above referred to. This last meteorite weighed -nearly four pounds and a half.-_Science Review._ - - - -_Father Secchi_.--A new spectroscope has been constructed by Father -Secchi, S.J., and seems to be a very excellent instrument. It absorbs a -very small quantity of light, and is therefore admirably adapted for -stellar observations. The inventor has analyzed with it the spectrum of the -light emitted by the star Antarés. It is of a red color; the luminous bands -have been resolved into bright lines, and the dark ones are checkered with -light and dark lines, so there is no black foundation.--_The Reader._ - - -_The Heat-conductibility of Mercury_.--M. Gripon, who has been making -experiments after Peclet's method, thinks he has demonstrated that if the -conducting power of silver be regarded as 100, that of mercury is equal to -3.54. He places mercury, therefore, the lowest in the scale of metals, as -far as the conductibility of heat is concerned. It is strange that electric -conductivity is quite different, being represented by the figures -1.80.--_Science Review_. - - -_Penetration of Platinum and Iron by Hydrogen_.--From time to time we -have reported the discoveries of Troost and Deville in this field of -research. These conclusions have recently been collected by the master of -the mint, Mr. Thomas Graham, in an admirable paper published in the -Proceedings of the Royal Society. He thinks that this wonderful penetration -is connected with a power resident in the above-mentioned and certain other -metals to liquefy and absorb hydrogen, which latter is possibly in the -condition of a metallic vapor. Platinum in the form of wire or plate at a -low, red heat may take up and hold 3.8 volumes of hydrogen, measured cold; -but it is by palladium that the property in question appears to be -possessed in the highest degree. Palladium foil from the hammered metal, -condensed so much as 643 times its volume of hydrogen, at a temperature -under 100° C. The same metal had not the slightest absorbent power for -either oxygen or nitrogen. The capacity of fused palladium (as also of -fused platinum) is considerably reduced, but foil or fused palladium, a -specimen of which Mr. Graham obtained from Mr. G. Matthey, absorbed 68 -volumes of the gas. Mr. Graham thinks that a certain degree of porosity may -be admitted to exist in all these metals.--_Science Review_. - -{285} - -_Improvements in the Barometer_.--Some important improvements have -recently been effected in the Aneroid barometer by Messrs. Cook &; Sons, -the opticians. Although the Aneroid, under ordinary circumstances, has been -shown by Mr. Glaisher and others to be very much more effective and -satisfactory in its results than could have been hoped, still, under -conditions which bring rapid changes of pressure into play, the instrument -when it returns to the nominal pressure does not always indicate correctly. -This results from the motion being communicated to the index axle by a -chain, and this chain, from other considerations, is the weakest part of -the instrument, and is the first acted upon by climactic influences, rust, -etc. Mr. Cook has abolished this chain altogether, substituting for it an -almost invisible driving-band of gold or platinum, and the result of this -great improvement is that the Aneroid may now be looked upon as an almost -perfect instrument for scientific research. Several such Aneroids, placed -under the receiver an air-pump, not only match absolutely together, but all -return unfailingly to one and the same indication--_The Reader_ - ------- - - Original. - - New Publications. - -1. Frederick The Great And His Court. - An Historical Romance. By L. Mühlbach. - Translated from the German - by Mrs. Chapman Coleman and her - daughters. New York: Appleton & Co. - 1867. 12mo, pp. 434. - -2. Berlin And Sans-Souci; or, Frederick - The Great and His Friends. - An Historical Romance. Author, - translators, and publishers the same. - New York. 1867. 12mo, pp. 391. - -3. Joseph II. and His Court. - An Historical Romance. By the same. - Translated from the German by - Adelaide de V. Chaudbron; complete - in one volume. New York: Appleton & Co. - 1867. 8vo, double columns, pp. 343. - -We know nothing of the writer of these works, save the works themselves, -and even them we know only in the translations before us. The last-named -volume reads more like an original work in English than the others. Mrs. -Chapman Coleman and her daughters appear not to have learned the proper use -of _shall_ and _will_, and make now and then the same sort of -blunder the Frenchman did when he fell into the river and exclaimed: "I -_will_ be drowned, and nobody _shall_ help me out." The use of -_shall_ and _will_ is a little arbitrary in English. _Shall_ -in the first person simply foretells, in the second and third persons it -commands; _will_ in the first person promises or expresses a -determination or resolution, in the second and third persons it simply -foretells. The same rule applies to _should_ and _would_. The -Scotch, Irish, and most foreigners are very apt to reverse the rule, as do -some New-Yorkers and most western writers and speakers. - -These works themselves are too historical for romances, and too romantic -for histories. Unless one is exceedingly familiar with the real history of -the times, one never knows whether he is reading history or only romance. -The historical predominates in them, and most people will read them as -histories rather than romances, and thus imbibe many erroneous views of -real persons and events. The Empress Maria Theresa is praised enough and -more than enough, so far as words go, both as a woman and as a sovereign, -but she is, after all, represented very untruthfully as weak, sentimental, -permitting her ministers to persuade her to adopt measures to which she is -conscientiously opposed, and really ruinous to the empire. She is -arbitrary, despotic, and the slave of her confessor. The author even -repeats the silly story that Kaunitz persuaded her, in order to further his -policy, to write an autograph letter to Madame Pompadour, the mistress of -Louis XV., and to praise her for her virtue and modesty, a story invented, -it is said, by Frederick the Great. The _béte noir_ of the writer is -the clergy, and alike whether Catholic or Protestant. -{286} -The author sympathizes from first to last with Joseph II.; thinks the -Josephine reforms or pretended reforms very just, very wise in themselves, -but that the people were too ignorant and superstitious to appreciate them. -From first to last humanity takes precedence of God and the state of the -church. The great divinity the author worships is the mutual love of man -and woman, and the greatest evil that afflicts humanity, or at least -princes and princesses, is that they cannot follow the inclinations of -their own heart, but must sacrifice their affections to the demands of -state policy. - -Joseph II. is a great favorite with the author, but Frederick the Great is -her hero. He is always great, noble, wise, just, with a most loving heart, -which he sacrifices to the necessities of state. No censure is breathed -against his infamous conduct in invading and taking possession of Silesia, -without even a color of right, and without even the formality of declaring -war against Austria, and while Austria, unsuspicious of any invasion, is -wholly unprepared to resist it, and embarrassed by a disputed succession. -He was successful, and in our times success is proof of right. Frederick -was utterly without principle, without faith of any sort, a -_philosophe_, corresponded with Voltaire, invited him to his court, -and even paid him a salary, and detested the clergy, and therefore was a -fitting idol of our modern liberals and humanitarians, and worshippers of -FORCE like Carlyle. - -Joseph the Second, we are inclined to believe, was sincere, and really -wished to benefit the nation committed to his charge, and he gave proof of -it in revoking most of the changes he attempted, and dying as a Christian. -He was vain and ambitious, and was led astray by the philosophy of his -times, and his unprincipled minister, Prince Kaunitz, a legacy from his -mother. He, like all the philosophers of the eighteenth century, understood -nothing of the laws of continuity, and supposed anything he decided to be -for the good of his people, however contrary to all their most deeply -cherished convictions and their most inveterate habits, could be forced -upon them by power, and should be received with grateful hearts. Two things -he appears to never have known, that despotism cannot found liberty, and -that power must, if it would make people happy, suffer them to be happy in -their own. There was, in the eighteenth century, with the European rulers -and the upper classes much sincere and active benevolence--a real and -earnest desire to lighten the burdens of government and ameliorate the -condition of the people; and no one can read these volumes, with sufficient -knowledge to distinguish what in them is history from what is mere romance, -without being persuaded that real reforms would have gone much further, and -European society would have been far in advance of what it now is, if the -revolution of 1789 had never been attempted. All that was true in the -so-called principles of 1789 was favorably accepted by nearly all European -statesmen and sovereigns who were laboring peaceably and earnestly to -develop and apply it. The statesmen and sovereigns, unhappily, had utterly -false and mischievous views of the relation of the church to the state, and -imagined that the only way to reform society was to begin by subjecting the -spiritual to the temporal; but they went in this direction not so far as -went the old French revolution. Indeed, the great lesson of history is that -the attempt to effect real social reforms by raising the people against -legitimate authority, whether civil or ecclesiastical, always turns out a -failure. Some good may be gained on one side, but is sure to be more than -overbalanced by the evils effected on another side. - -As purely literary works, these historical romances possess a high degree -of merit, and prove that the writer has rare powers of description and -analysis. They read like the genuine histories, and from them alone it is -impossible to say where the real history ends and the romance begins, so -completely is the verisimilitude maintained throughout. If, as we are told, -they are the production of a female pen, as they bear indubitable evidence -of being, they are truly remarkable productions. The characters introduced -are all, or nearly all, historical, and if not all or always faithfully -reproduced, they are presented without any violence to the generally -received history of the two courts described. There is a little too much -German sentimentality in them, if faithfully translated, to suit our taste, -and more than we believe is usually to be found in imperial or royal -courts; and the _liaisons_ of princes are treated with too much -lenity, if not downright approbation, to have a good moral effect; but they -indicate a rare mastery of the subjects they treat, and intellectual powers -of a very high order. -{287} -They are by no means faultless, and their spirit and tone are pagan rather -than Christian; but they who are familiar with the history of the two -courts described, and are accustomed to master the works they read instead -of being mastered by them, may read them even with profit. - - - Lectures On Christian Unity, - delivered in St. Ann's Church, Eighth Street, during the season of - Advent, 1866, with an appendix on the condition of the Anglican - Communion, and of the Eastern Churches. By the Rev. Thomas S. Preston, - Pastor of St. Ann's Church and Chancellor of the diocese. 12mo, pp. 264. - New-York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. - -Father Preston's style is natural, earnest, and direct. He is too anxious -to impress truth on the minds of his readers to load his pages with -rhetorical ornaments; too resolute in his opinions to hesitate at the most -downright and unmistakable expression of them. His ideas are clear, and -therefore his style has the two chief requisites of all good writing, -clearness and simplicity. It has also the beauty which invariably radiates -from a devout heart. Love of God, love of the Blessed Virgin and the -saints, love of the holy church and all her teachings and her ways, -illuminate every chapter with the light of an unaffected piety. And like -the majority of really devout controversialists, he writes without rancor -or bitterness. "No true Catholic," he says, "can be intemperate in speech, -much less in heart. .... When we speak of the claims of our religion or -announce our doctrines and urge them upon men, it is not to advance our own -opinions so much as to benefit mankind, and promote their best happiness, -temporal and spiritual. We feel that the church answers the very questions -which are agitating their souls; that it responds to the wants of their -spiritual being, now unsatisfied; that it is the only and the divine -barrier to infidelity so fast increasing among us. ... It is in this spirit -that these lectures are begun, with the earnest desire for truth, and a -comprehensive charity for all who differ from us." - -The first of the four lectures comprised in this volume proves from reason, -Scripture, and the writings of the primitive fathers the necessity of unity -among all who profess the Christian faith. The second shows how impossible -it is of attainment under the theory of Protestantism, which holds that -everything concerning faith and salvation must be left to the private -judgment of each individual, and that no external authority has power to -bind the conscience or compel the obedience of believing men. There can be -no unity of belief unless there be an admitted standard of truth; and under -the Protestant theory such a standard cannot be found. There is no church -which can be such an authority, for, according to the doctrines of all the -reformed bodies, a church has no authority except that given to it by the -members. As then the members are not infallible, the church cannot be. The -Bible cannot be the authority; for history shows that the Scriptures, -subjected to private interpretation, have never been able to effect any -agreement whatever; and, moreover, it is practically impossible to prove -either the authenticity or inspiration of the sacred books without falling -back upon the authority of the church. The objections to setting up the -consent of the majority or the opinions of antiquity as a standard of -doctrine are likewise exposed with clearness, though very briefly. The -third lecture is devoted to an examination of the claims of Protestantism -to represent the Church of Christ, and a survey of the present condition -and history of the principal reformed bodies. In lecture the fourth the -claims of the Catholic Church upon the obedience of mankind are summarized -with beautiful lucidity and eloquence. - -An appendix of 100 pages contains an interesting and valuable note on the -position of the Anglican churches, and some welcome information respecting -the church union movement, from which it is hardly necessary to say that -Father Preston expects no good. Neither is he so sanguine of happy results -from the ritualistic movement as a writer in a recent number of this -magazine; but of these, as of all other matters, he speaks with his -accustomed charity. A second part of the appendix gives an account of the -present position of the Eastern churches. - -We regard this as the best work Father Preston has written, and we -earnestly join in the hope he expresses in his modest preface, that it "may -reach some minds who are seeking the truth, and lead them to the haven of -rest." - -{288} - -Lectures on doctrines of the Catholic Church are a powerful means of -conversion to the faith. Never were the public better disposed to inquire, -and more ready to listen to the claims of the church, than at present, and, -wherever lectures of this character have been given, their fruits have been -found more abundant than was anticipated. - - - The Life Of St. Dominic And A Sketch Of The Dominican Order. - With an introduction by the most Rev. J. S. Alemany, D.D., Archbishop of - San Francisco. P. O'Shea, 27 Barclay street. - -This is not a reprint of F. Lacordaire's Life, but an original biography, -accompanied by a history of the Dominican order brought down to the present -day. It is from the pen of an anonymous English author, and resembles the -best works of the modern school of English Catholic writers in the care and -elegance with which it has been prepared. No one could have introduced it -more suitably to the American public than the illustrious Archbishop of San -Francisco, who is himself one of the brightest ornaments of the Dominican -order in modern times. It is the history of a great man and of a great -order, given in a moderate compass and an attractive style, and, of course, -well worth the perusal of every intelligent reader, whether Catholic or -Protestant. - - - The Journal Of Maurice De Guérin. - With an Essay by Matthew Arnold, and a Memoir by Saint-Beuve. Edited by - G. S. Trebutien. Translated by Edward Thornton Fisher. 12mo. pp. 153. New - York, Leypoldt & Hoyt. 1867. - -Our readers, already so familiar with the character and writings of Eugénie -de Guérin from the frequent notices they have received, especially of her -Journal and Letters, will be glad to know that this journal of her so much -loved brother Maurice has been brought before the public. - -In perusing the charming journal and mournful letters of Eugénie our -curiosity must needs be awakened to know more of her gifted brother, of -whom these pages of love speak so constantly. We have only to say that in -this volume that curiosity may be satisfied. Our readers will see depicted -the efforts of a soul vainly striving to find God outside of God in the -worship of nature, and at last returning, wearied and disappointed, like -the prodigal son to his father's home and embrace. Maurice de Guérin, who -had fallen away into heartless and godless pantheism, died kissing the -crucifix. - - - -"The Catholic Publication Society" announces an American edition of a book -just published in London: "The Clergy and the Pulpit, in their relations to -the People," -M. l'Abbé Mallois, chaplain to Napoleon III. - ------- - - Books Received. - -From Hon. W. H. Seward, Secretary of State. Washington, D. C, Diplomatic -Correspondence, relating to Foreign Affairs for 1865. Parts I., II., and -III.; also Part IV., being an appendix to the other three parts, containing -letters and documents with reference to the assassination of President -Lincoln, and the attempted assassination of Secretary Seward, with extracts -from the press of Europe, and letters from public communities, of -condolence and sympathy, inspired by inspired by these events. 8vo. - - -From Kelly & Piet. Baltimore, Md, Devotion to the Holy Guardian Angels, in -the form of Considerations, Prayers, etc. Translated from the Italian of -Rev. P. de Mattel. S. J. 32mo. pp. 229. Price 50 cts. - - - -From P. O'Shea, New York. The Life of St. Dominic and a Sketch of the -Dominican Order, with an introduction by Most Rev. J. S. Alemany, D.D. 1 -vol. 12mo. pp. 370. Price $1.50.--The Gentle Skeptics; or, Essays and -Conversations of a Country Justice on the Authenticity in Truthfulness of -the Old Testament Records. By Rev. C. Walworth. New edition, revised. 1 -vol. 12mo. Price $1.50. - - -From Ruttenberg & Co., Newberg, New York. An Address in behalf of Universal -Education with Religious Toleration. By the Hon. J. Monell. Pamphlet. - - - -From Lawrence Kehoe, New York. Three Phases of Christian Love. By Lady -Herbert, of Lea. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 315. Price $1.50 - - -From Dayton Ohio, we have received two pamphlets namely: the Divinity of -Christ, a sermon preached in the Holy Trinity Church, Dayton, Ohio, at the -conclusion of the Feast of the Nativity of our Lord Jesus Christ; St. -Antony: Alban Butler and Local Gossip of the Dayton Journal. By X. - - -From D. & J. Sadlier & Co., New. York, Lectures on Christian unity, -delivered in St. Ann's Church, New York, during the season of Advent, 1866, -with an Appendix on the condition of the Anglican Communion, etc. By Thomas -S. Preston, Pastor of St. Ann's Church. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 264. Price -$1.50--The Christian armed against the Seductions of the World, etc. -Translated from the Italian by Father Ignatius Spencer. 1 vol. 18mo. pp. -320, 50 cts.--Devotion to St. Joseph By Rev. Father Joseph Anthony -Patrignani, S. J. Translated from the French. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 360. Price -the 63 cts.--Fourth Annual Report of the Society for the Protection of the -Destitute. - - -From the author. Reconstruction of the Union., in a letter to Hon. E. D. -Morgan. U. S. Senator from New York, from Judge Edmonds. New York American -News Co. 8vo. Pamphlet, pp. 89. - - -From John Murphy & Co., Baltimore. Manual of the Lives of the Popes, from -St. Peter to Pius IX. By John Charles Earle, B.A. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 332. -Price $1.25. - ------- - -{289} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. NO. 27, June 1867 - - - Translated from Le Correspondant - - Lectures and Public Conferences Among the Ancients. - - I. - -_Nil sub sole novum;_ there is nothing absolutely new under the sun. -Apart from the sciences and their application, our age differs less than we -suppose from the ages that preceded it. Fancying ourselves pure Frenchmen -of the nineteenth century, we discern upon a nearer view numerous traits of -resemblance to the contemporaries of Pliny and Plutarch. - -"Who will deliver us from Greek and Roman shackles?" cried the author of -Gastronomie, in a fit of witty ill-humor. It is to be feared that for many -a long year we are condemned to imitate the Latins and Athenians whom we -love to slander even while copying them. What matter how unconsciously we -borrow from them? Many things besides the game that made the amusement of -our infancy may be considered renovations of Greek originals. Fashions, -customs, pleasures even, are ours, not by right of invention, but of -inheritance; and what we take for new is sometimes merely the old -refurbished. - -If there be a novelty, for the mass of the people who do not pride -themselves on erudition, it is to be found in the lectures or conferences, -to which the public is bidden every winter. Tested first successfully in -Paris, through the enterprise of a few private individuals, they afterward, -favored by the influence of higher powers, reached the provinces--invaded -them, I should have said, if the word had not an offensive signification, -far from my thoughts. It is surprising to watch the rapid development of -this custom, exhibited as it is in the fact that since the second year a -thousand _chaires_ have sprung up in various parts of France. Modest -townships, no less than great cities, have their course of lectures, and -one peruses with interest the list of lecturers, [Footnote 55] some of whom -are accustomed by profession to communicating their ideas to an audience, -while others essay for the first time the public expression of their -opinions. - - [Footnote 55: The _chaires_ have been lately interdicted to Prince - Albert de Brogile and to MM. Saint Marc Girardin, Cochin, Laboulaye, - and Jules Simon. We cannot help, while recording this ostracism, - deploring its effect upon French literature.--_Note of French - Editor_.] - -{290} - -In the ranks of volunteer instructors (without mentioning professors, who -are naturally called to assume such a position) lawyers elbow physicians, -the Catholic priest finds himself next to the Protestant minister, and -officers march abreast with men of letters. Nay more: women too are seen -taking part in these manly exercises, anxious to prove good the equality of -their sex with ours. - -'Tis undeniably an odd spectacle to unaccustomed eyes, and there is no lack -of discussion and outcry upon the matter. But one need only read a few -pages from the pen of ancient authors to discover that what startles us -to-day as a thing without precedent, had passed into a well-known custom in -the earliest ages of Christianity. It is into the subject of lectures and -conferences among the ancients that I propose to inquire, as a topic -offering interest if not profit to those who like to compare antiquity with -our own times. - - II. - -Nowadays, thanks to the printing-press, which multiplies thought and -scatters it to the four winds of heaven, an author can enter into -communication with the public without going beyond the threshold of his -study. But among the ancients, when every copy of a work was painfully -executed by hand, who can estimate the pains, fatigue, and expense that -went to build up an incomplete publicity? What wonder then that an -historian like Herodotus introduced his book to public notice by reading it -aloud to the crowds assembled for the Olympic games, or that the people -paused to listen to him for days together? The author entered without delay -upon the enjoyment of his glory--the public into possession of a -masterpiece. Later, we learn that Prodicus, the sophist of Ceos, went from -city to city, reciting his allegory of Hercules between Virtue and -Pleasure, and engraving it upon the memory of all Greece. - -Other similar instances might be cited, but merely as exceptions to the -customs anterior to the Christian era; nor was it in Greece but at Rome -that public lecturing first became a popular usage. - -In the reign of Augustus, when eloquence had become _pacifice_ (or -narrow-minded, as the bitter spirits who pined for ancient laxity would -have said), Asinius Pollio, having been transformed from a republican into -a courtier without sacrificing his love of letters, bethought himself to -replace the oratorical combats, for ever banished from senate and forum, by -establishing a school of declamation, and assemblies whither authors should -resort to read their works in public.[Footnote 56] It was erecting a stage -for the exhibition of wits who longed for notoriety, and the plan could not -fail to succeed. Augustus, in harmony, on this occasion, with popular -desire, lent a hearty consent to the innovation. Not only did he sit among -the audience without giving evidence of weariness or _ennui_, but he -took an active part in the literary exercises, reading in person, or -letting; Tiberius read for him, various compositions of his own.[Footnote -57] - - [Footnote 56: Seneca the Rhetorician, Controv. V. Procem.] - - [Footnote 57: Sustonius, Augustus, 85, 89.] - -Without doubting that Augustus really enjoyed these intellectual -entertainments, I believe the encouragement of a harmless literature to -have been in accordance with his policy. Every pursuit that could turn -aside the Romans from too importunate an interest in state affairs was -favorably received. What time remained for meddling in public matters to -any man occupied with polishing poetical phrases or rounding rhetorical -periods? The chair replaced the tribune advantageously. While bread and -circus games satisfied the lower classes, distractions and diversions of a -nobler stamp were provided for more enlightened minds. In both cases the -conduct of Augustus was actuated by the same motive. -{291} -So well did public lectures second his designs that be might perhaps have -introduced the fashion if it had not already existed. Under the -circumstances his countenance only was required to elevate what seemed like -a modish caprice to the dignity and durability of an imperial institution. -Even the most suspicious and distrustful of this prince's successors -forbore to disturb an amusement so conducive to their own advantage. The -least favorably inclined were contented with depriving the assemblies of -their presence, and others esteemed it an honor to be counted among the -most attentive listeners. Nero especially, imperial artist and metromaniac, -seems to have honestly regarded these exercises as one of the glories of -his reign. - -Every one who fancied himself a man of talent (and illusions upon such -points are common to the literary world in all ages) was glad to win renown -by exhibiting the fruits of midnight toil. With few exceptions, all authors -claimed the public ear: Lucan to recite his Pharsalia; Silius Italicus, his -Punic War; Statius, his Thebald, Achilleïd, and Silvae; Pliny, his -Panegyric of Trajan.[Footnote 58] I mention those authors only whose -writings have remained to us; but many others sought to charm a Roman -audience. The list would be long, of lecturers whose names, without their -works, have come down to posterity; orators of whom Pliny has introduced a -large number to us in enumerating his personal friends. Princes followed -the contagious example of Augustus. Claudius and Nero enjoyed the display -or their acquirements;[Footnote 59] Domitian recited poems which he -certainly never wrote; but what matter for that? he liked to give himself -the airs of a poet, and of a successful poet, we may be sure. Nero, at -least, did not solicit applause in borrowed plumes. In short, no verses -were too bad to seek a hearing. A mania for reading and writing raged -abroad. Horace satirizes this madness, but after Horace's own sweet, -graceful fashion. Juvenal exclaims with wrathful bitterness: "Am I for ever -to be a listener? Shall I never retaliate, (I who have been) so often -teased with the Theseïd of husky Codrus? One man recites his comedies with -impunity, and another his elegies. Shall huge Telephus consume my day -unpunished; or Orestes, full to the extremest margin of the book, written -even on the reversed pages, and not finished then?" [Footnote 60] - - [Footnote 58: Suetonius; Lucan; Pliny the Younger, Let. III. 7, 18; - Juvenal, vii. 79] - - [Footnote 59: Suetonius; Claudius, 41; Nero, 10.] - - [Footnote 60: Juvenal, i, 1.] - -The time for retaliation came at last. A desire seized him during the reign -of Adrian to bring forward the satires so long kept under lock and key, and -to emulate those whom he had ridiculed. He bored no one, it is true, but -none the less fatal were the results to himself: Several passages, -cordially received by the public, and invidiously interpreted among -courtiers, seemed to contain hostile allusions to an imperial favorite; and -the emperor, under pretext of appointing the poetic octogenarian to a -military command, sent the satirist to the extreme recesses of Egypt to -finish his days in honorable exile. [Footnote 61] - - [Footnote 61: Suetonius, Juvenal] - -The subjects of Roman lectures were exceedingly various; sometimes serious -and long-winded poems like those we have mentioned; sometimes comedies; but -oftener short poems, light and trifling, or sweet and tender, according to -the poet's vein. On exceptional occasions, some eloquent voice, disdaining -vulgar platitudes, aroused, with its noble accents, genuine Roman -sentiments; as on that day, in the Augustan era, when Cornelius Severus -deplored the death of Cicero and cursed his assassin in the glorious lines -that have been preserved to us. [Footnote 62] - - [Footnote 62: Pliny the Younger, Letters, iv, 27; v. 17; vi. 15, 21; - viii.21.] - -{292} - -We notice as a singular fact that a lecturer endowed with a fine voice, -would sometimes content himself with reading passages from some ancient -poet, Ennius, for example; and with success too, if he read with taste. -[Footnote 63] But this was too low an aim to satisfy ambition. Men desired -fame and applause for themselves, and cared little to offer any works but -their own to the public. - - [Footnote 63: Seneca, the Rhetor, Suasor, 7.] - -No style was banished from these assemblies. One day an audience listened -to dialogues, or to philosophical and moral dissertations; on the next, -some lawyer, already well known to fame through important law-suits, -claimed a hearing. The lawyer who had gained his client's cause before the -tribunal, came to argue in behalf of his own intellect before the public, -[Footnote 64] caring more, perhaps, to win in the second suit than in the -first. History, too, seems to have held an important place in lectures, nor -did the speaker limit himself to events long since gone by. Rome within a -few years had lost several distinguished men, whose death Titinius Capito -commemorated. [Footnote 65] Strictly speaking, it might be considered a -funeral oration, intended to console friends and relatives without wounding -any individual. But the intrepid lecturer ventured upon volcanic soil, and -portrayed the history of recent years with so great liberty of speech that, -at the close of the first assembly, he was surrounded and urged to silence: -why wound the feelings of auditors who blushed to hear of acts they had not -blushed to commit? [Footnote 66] - - [Footnote 64: Pliny the Younger, Lett. ii. 19; vii. 17.] - - [Footnote 65: Ibid., viii, 12.] - - [Footnote 66: Ibid., Lett. ix. 27.] - -Probably he had reference to those informers who were expiating under -Trajan the favor and prosperity they had enjoyed under Domitian. That they -deserved scorn, there can be no doubt; but is it always easy to pass just -and impartial judgment upon contemporaries? Does not history run a chance -of resembling one of those retrospective reviews, before which, after a -change of rulers, the men of to-day lay complaints against the men of -yesterday? - -Occasionally the choice of subjects was even more remarkable. The orator -Regulus, whom Pliny (usually so full of good will toward the subjects of -his criticism) unceasingly pursued with scornful hatred, loses his only -son. Not content with bestowing upon him magnificent obsequies, in which, -to strike all eyes with the spectacle of pompous woe, be sacrifices, upon -the funeral pile, the nightingales, parrots, dogs, and horses that the -child had loved; he would perpetuate his son's memory and spread abroad the -proofs of his own grief. Portraits and images wrought in wax, or copper, or -marble, ivory, silver, or gold--the most varied works of painter or -sculptor, suffice him not. It occurs to him that he himself is an artist--a -word-artist, and now or never his powers should be utilized. His son's life -and death would be an admirable text for a lecture. Quick to the work! -Great griefs are mute, says Seneca, but Regulus thinks otherwise; and in a -few days he gives forth to a numerous assembly an address which cannot fail -to do credit to his literary talents and his paternal sentiments. The -comedy (for what else can we call it?) met with success. So fine a piece -was not composed to delight a single audience, and Regulus, being rich -enough to pay the expenses of glory, addressed a sort of circular to the -magistrates of every important town throughout Italy and the provinces, -begging them to select their best declaimer and confide to him the reading -of this precious work of art. The wish of Regulus was gratified. [Footnote -67] - - [Footnote 67: Pliny the Younger, iv. 2, 7.] - -Pliny's letter, giving these curious details, shows also that the fashion -of recitations had spread beyond Rome. Testimony to the same effect abounds -in ancient authors. Few cities were without public lectures. In imitation -of Italy, the practice was adopted in Africa, Gaul and Spain. Of Greece I -do not speak, for Greece is _par excellence_ the land of literary -recreations, and we will go thither all in good time. - -{293} - - III. - -It would appear from various texts that Rome at least had certain seasons -for lectures: the months of April and August, and sometimes of July, being -especially selected, no doubt because affairs before the tribunals were -then less frequent. Authors took advantage of these periods of leisure to -supplant the magistrates. But that each aspirant might have his turn, -meeting succeeded meeting. "Poets abound this year," writes Pliny; "we have -had recitations almost every day this month." Innocent satisfaction of a -mind enjoying the triumph of good taste and literature in these -exhibitions, or _osentationes_, as they were termed by severe judges! -Seneca advises his pupil Lucilius not to stoop to objects so paltry. One -would suppose that the frequency of public lectures would have led to the -erection of a public edifice--of an amphitheatre especially devoted to -these exercises. We find, however, that such a thing was never thought of, -and that each lecturer was expected to provide his platform as best he -could. Poor poets, a never-failing race, spoke in public squares or at the -baths. [Footnote 68] Petronius in his Satyricon depicts the old poet -Eumolpus declaiming anywhere and everywhere, in the streets or under -peristyles, spouting his verses to every comer, at the risk of being driven -away by the wearied crowd or of driving them away, a circumstance not more -flattering to a poet. Eumolpus is but a fictitious personage, but he is no -doubt drawn from life. Petronius describes what he has often witnessed; and -even if we could doubt this, Horace and Juvenal would bear witness to the -fidelity of the portrait. - - [Footnote 68: Horace, Sat. I. iv. 75.] - -Even when the crowd was attentive, these meetings in the open air had their -inconveniences. Apuleius was to speak in Carthage, and great was his -reputation. The people crowded and pushed and hustled to get a front place. -So far so good, for what can be pleasanter than to see one's fellow -creatures suffocated in one's honor? Apuleius began in his finest tones, -the lecture marched apace, the most striking point was reached, enthusiasm -stood on tip-toe--when, alas for the vanity of human hopes! a pelting -shower fell upon all this success, dampening eloquence, putting the excited -audience to flight, and sending the orator home wet to the skin, with his -triumph changed to disaster. [Footnote 69] - - [Footnote 69: Apuleius, Florides.] - -Accidents of this nature rarely occurred, at least to men of reputation -like Apuleius, for addresses were usually delivered under cover in a hall. -A suitable apartment was easily found by any one who could afford to hire -one. Sometimes, too, a friend would kindly lend his house, as for instance -Titinius Capito, who liked to render services of this kind. "His mansion," -says Pliny, "belongs to all those who have addresses to deliver." A simple -dining-room sufficed for the occasions when only a few persons were -expected; but these were exceptional. [Footnote 70] The place of meeting -being selected, seats and benches were placed for the audience. A stage was -erected for the lecturer, raised above the public, so that none of his -gestures might be lost, and that he might judge correctly of the effect -produced. The audience consisted of men only, it being contrary to received -customs that a woman should appear in a lecture room. But an ingenious plan -was devised by which literary Roman ladies could enjoy the entertainment. -One part of the hall was sometimes curtained off with draperies, and behind -this shelter, a woman could listen at her ease, without wounding -conventional ideas. [Footnote 71] - - [Footnote 70: Tacitus, Dial. de Or. 9.] - - [Footnote 71: Pliny the Younger Letters viii. 12, 21] - -The lecture was announced several days in advance, and ceremonious -invitations were issued to friends and personages of distinction. This -precaution proved useful in securing an audience, and fulfilled at the same -time a duty of politeness, the neglect of which implied indifference to the -courteous usages of the time. While slaves were carrying invitations -through the city, the host remained at home, and, in order to make his -voice clearer and more flexible, enveloped his throat in woolen cloths, and -imbibed soothing beverages. - -{294} - -The great day comes at last. The benches are filled. The lecturer only is -wanting. He appears, and at sight of him a murmur of satisfaction passes -round the hall. He takes the chair, often surrounded by his best friends, -who sit beside him to encourage him with their presence and to enjoy his -success. [Footnote 72] In order to appear in full lustre, he has arrayed -himself in a new white toga, dressed his hair and beard carefully, and -placed upon his finger a ring adorned with a precious stone. He unrolls a -manuscript; utters a few modest phrases in apology for his temerity, asking -of course the indulgence of the audience, but soliciting their justice -also, since he seeks before all things an exact criticism, revealing the -defects in his work, that he may correct them. This preamble being well -received, he enters upon the discourse. In reading he tries to give effect -to the words by a varied intonation of voice, by turns of his head and -movement of his eyes. Soon faint cries of "Excellent perfect!" arise in -various parts of the hall to charm his ear; but he feigns not to hear them. -He pauses, remarking, "I am afraid all this bores you. Perhaps I ought to -suppress a few passages, lest you should be wearied." But the audience are -too polite to admit that a short lecture would not displease them. "Oh! no, -no, skip nothing; we do not wish to lose a word." He proceeds, only to go -through the same farce a little later. "I have already abused your -patience; it is time to stop and release you from the remainder." "Read on, -read on! it is charming to hear you." He reads to the end; the admiration -grows, rises, bubbles over! where will it end? Thunders of applause follow, -and the lecturer is inwardly overjoyed, but his modesty never deserts him. -"Enough friends, enough!" he murmurs, "This is too much," Of course the -transports are redoubled, and our lecturer returns home, believing himself -a Virgil, a Sallust, or a Cicero. - - [Footnote 72: Pliny the Younger, Letters, vi. 6.] - -We have described here a successful lecture; but not always, it must be -confessed, did the hero of the occasion carry away with him impressions so -agreeable. Sometimes an author had to renounce the pleasure of reading his -own composition, because of a weak or unpleasing voice, leaving the task of -delivery to a reader, near whom he sat, accompanying the recitation with -glance and gesture. [Footnote 73] - - [Footnote 73: Pliny the Younger, Letters, viii. 1; ix. 34.] - -Then, too, there were a thousand petty mishaps, impossible to foresee or -avoid, one of which sufficed to spoil the occasion. Passierus Paulus, a -Roman knight, was addicted to the composition of elegiac verses; a family -peculiarity, it would seem, as he counted Propertius among his ancestors. -One day, among the numerous assemblage of invited guests, sat Javolenus -Priscus, a friend of the poet, though a little crazy. Paulus opened the -recitation of his elegies with one commencing: "Priscus, you order me--" -"I! faith! I ordered nothing," cried the crack-brained Javolenus, amid -explosions of laughter from the audience. Behold Passierus Paulus greatly -disconcerted! The absurdity of Javolenus had thrown a cloud over the -entertainment, which proves, observes Pliny, that not only should a -lecturer be himself of sane mind, but he should take care that his -listeners be so too. - -Paulus grieved over the ill success of his lecture; not so Claudius when an -accident chanced to trouble the course of his recitation. He was at the -first pages of the address, when a remarkably stout auditor cracked and -brought to the ground a bench with his weight. The assembly roared with -laughter. The good-natured emperor was not in the least annoyed; and, when -silence was at last reestablished, he broke it again and again with peals -of merriment, carrying the audience along with him, at the thought of the -fat man's downfall. - -{295} - -But a graver difficulty presented itself occasionally in the unwillingness -of the public to partake of the feast of reason prepared for their -enjoyment. The frequency and length of these lectures, which would last -sometimes through two or three meetings, had tired many people, who came no -more, except under protest, saying with Juvenal (iii. 9), "No desert but -would be more endurable than Rome in lecturing times." Pliny bemoans this -falling off and sees therein a grievous sign for literature--decline and -decay. "The guests," he says, "stand about public places amusing themselves -with frivolous talk. From time to time they send to ask if the lecturer has -arrived, or if the preface is over, or the lecture far advanced. Then they -go in, but slowly and with regret. Nor do they remain to the close. One -slips out adroitly; another stalks unceremoniously away with his head in -the air. It is said that, in our fathers' time, Claudius, while walking -through his palace one day, heard a great noise, and, on asking the cause, -was told that Nonianus was reading one of his works. The prince went -immediately to join the assembly; but to-day prayers and entreaties will -not induce the most unoccupied man to come, or, if he does come, it is only -to complain of having lost a day because he has not lost it." [Footnote 74] - - [Footnote 74: Pliny the Younger, Letters, i. 13; iii. 18.] - -To go away before the close was a mark of ill breeding, as Pliny -demonstrates; an infringement of that code of proprieties to which auditors -were expected to adapt themselves. Attention was, of course, required, but -many other things were prescribed. The excellent Plutarch, who seems to -have shared Pliny's weakness for this kind of exercise, was at the pains to -compose a treatise for his disciples upon the art of listening. "In a -listener," he says, "a supercilious air, a severe face, wandering eyes, a -stooping attitude, legs carelessly crossed, nay, more, a wink or nod, a -word in a neighbor's ear, an affected smile, a sad and dreamy look, -indecent yawns, and all other things of that nature, are reprehensible -defects to be scrupulously avoided." [Footnote 75] - - [Footnote 75: How to Listen, 13.] - -Elsewhere he cites with approbation the conduct of Rusticus Arulenus: "One -day when I was making a public address in Rome, Arulenus sat among the -audience. In the middle of the conference, a soldier brought him a letter -from the emperor. A profound silence prevailed in an instant, and I myself -paused to give him time to read the despatches. This he declined to do, and -only opened his letter when the address was ended and the audience had -dispersed; conduct which won for him the admiration of every one." _Of -every one_, and especially, I imagine, of Plutarch, who must have been -flattered, indeed, to see that so grand a personage would not let his -attention wander even to state affairs. - -Plutarch at least exacts of his audience only what may be called good -breeding. In this he agrees with Epictetus, who, while advising his -disciple not to attend the public readings of poets and orators (believing, -in his austere philosophy, that time might be better employed), recommends -him, if he must go, to preserve decency and gravity, not indulging in -boisterous and disorderly demonstrations, or wounding his host by giving -evidence of weariness. But Pliny is not satisfied with this. In maintaining -a religious attention at the lecture, the listener had fulfilled only half -his duties, the other half being applause. To leave without exhibiting -lively satisfaction was simply significant of boorish ill breeding. We find -Pliny in despair when one of his friends has not obtained the meed of -praise he had a right to expect from the audience. "For my own part," he -says, "I could not refuse my esteem and admiration to those who interest -themselves in literary labors." Before the lecture, he predicts in all -sincerity the most startling success; and at its close, pronounces upon it -in equally good faith a pompous eulogium. [Footnote 76] - - [Footnote 76: Epictetus, Manual, 51.] - -Sometimes the facile admiration borders on simplicity. Sentius Angurinus -reads a poem, and the benevolent critic exclaims, "In my judgment, there -has been nothing better done for years;" giving a specimen of the lines, -that the reader may pass his own judgment. It is a little piece in which -he, Pliny, is compared to Calvus and Catullus and ranked, of course, above -both, without taking into consideration that he has the wisdom of a Cato -into the bargain. "What delicacy!" cries the tickled critic, "what nicety -of expression what vivacity!" Of course, who would not see charms in a -madrigal containing these pleasant sentiments about one's self? It would be -fastidious indeed to fail in admiration of such a production. - -Sentius loudly proclaims the poetic talent of Pliny; and Pliny reciprocates -with the announcement that Sentius is one of those rare geniuses who do -honor to their age. It was an exchange of good offices--a mutual adulation -in which the lecturer of to-day received back all that he had generously -lavished about him yesterday. Vanity more than the love of letters found -its meed in this interchange of courtesies. - -We have already seen that on one side the disdain of serious thinkers, and -on the other public satiety, had ended by injuring the success of these -exhibitions. Solitude reigned about the lecturer, but should he on that -account desert his post? It was an extreme case not to be easily met, but -necessity is ingenious. New plans were invented for filling the hall. If an -audience would not come, an audience must be hunted up--recruited at any -cost. Clients and freedmen were borrowed from personal friends to fill the -benches. One orator gathered together a troop of famished wretches and gave -them a plentiful dinner. The guests, having eaten and rejoiced, were fired -with gastric gratitude, and vigorously clapped the poems of their -Amphitryon. This trade was carried on every day, and those who said their -admiration for a good dinner were called by the expressive name of -_laudicoeni_. Others bought applause cash down; but at a low price, if -they were not particular as to quality; contented, for instance, with -servants, who could be had for three _denarii_ apiece. At this rate, -persons of low estate could drive a lucrative business by hiring out their -services. A more simple method, however, than that of paying listeners by -the day, was making use of debtors if one had any; for what debtor, with -any sense of duty, could help attending the lectures of his creditors? - -An audience collected thus did not trouble themselves much about listening, -but no matter for that if they would but applaud; and applaud they did, and -all the more vigorously in proportion to their inattention, as Pliny tells -us, and we may well believe. All that the orchestra needed was a leader to -give the signal to his docile troop, at the fine points, and to regulate -the degrees of enthusiasm. Applause was no mere trade; it had risen to the -dignity of a science. A skilful manager could provide every suitable -emotion, from a discreet and low-voiced approbation up to passionately -tumultuous enthusiasm. First came murmurs of pleasure, starts of gratified -surprise and involuntary exclamations, followed by a silence no less -flattering. Gradually the excitement got beyond control, and manifested -itself by stamping of feet; by cries, nay, howls; to use the words of -Pliny, _ululatus large supersunt_. Togas were shaken; benches trembled -beneath the blows of trampling feet. Persons who sat near the lecturer, and -could take such a liberty, ran to embrace him in token of gratitude at the -delight he had afforded them. If perchance the speaker was an emperor, -respect did not allow them to kiss his sacred lips, but only to pour forth -expressions of gratitude. -{297} -The joy would become so universal, as we see in the case of Nero, that the -senate decreed solemn thanksgiving to be offered to the gods; and the -verses of the prince, graven in golden letters on the walls of the capitol, -to be dedicated to Jupiter, as the noblest offering earth could consecrate -to heaven. [Footnote 77] - - [Footnote 77: Pliny the Younger, Letters, ii. 10, 14; Martial, i. 77; - Suetonius, Nero, 10.] - - IV. - -We see by Pliny's lamentations that lectures in his day were not in vogue -as they had been formerly. But it must be remembered that, even when -lectures were at the height of popularity, they attracted only the -cultivated class, so-called; that is to say, the minority. The Roman people -did not pride themselves upon a marked taste for refined intellectual -pleasures, finding more fascination in spectacles and circus games. -Statius, according to contemporary accounts, appears to have been the poet -most eagerly sought; but numerous as was the audience that thronged to hear -him, there is little doubt, that, if some famous gladiator had appeared in -the arena, Statius would have stood a fair chance of addressing empty -benches. While the seats of the small lecture-room filled slowly with -hardly earned auditors, the amphitheatre steps were never vast enough to -accommodate the struggling multitude. - -Only in Greece do we find a nation truly sensitive to purely intellectual -enjoyments. There the simple artisan understood and appreciated -philosophers, poets, and orators. The art of eloquence never left him -indifferent, and he would leave his trade to run to a discourse as to a -feast. With this disposition, what seemed to the Romans a pastime for the -few, was the chief interest of many members of Greek society. Public -speaking was but an accident in the lives of Pliny and his friends, while -to the clever men of Athens or Alexandria it became a profession. Anyone -who believed himself gifted with eloquence became a sophist or rhetor, and -with a little tact and assurance could count upon that kind of success -which is measured by a numerous audience. Some distinction between these -two classes of men, the sophist and the rhetor, should be made here. The -former claimed to have succeeded the philosophers, with the right to teach -the people, and to develop the commonplaces of politics, morals, and even -of religion. They made themselves preachers to the populace, and sometimes -to princes, as, for instance, when we find Dion Chrysostom holding forth -concerning the duties of royalty in Trajan's palace. Rhetors, on the other -hand, were professors of eloquence. Their avowed aim was to please, but, -while less proud in pretensions than the sophists, they were in reality -equally presumptuous, assuming to teach art not only by explaining its -roles, but also by offering in their own compositions finished models of -rhetoric, in the genuine belief that they had garnered up the heritage of -Demosthenes and Eschines. As all pretensions belong together, the sophist -often combined his duties with those of the rhetor; witness the Dion above -mentioned. - -This race of public speakers lingered about the towns of Greece, and also -of Asia Minor, Egypt, and Lybia. Then, finding these limits too narrow, -they burst beyond them and invaded the Latin countries. - -About the time of the Antonines, that is to say, when exhausted Roman -genius seemed doomed to barrenness, there came a _renaissance_ of -Greek letters. Many Romans preferred Greek to Latin for writing, and not -merely as a caprice or literary foppishness, loving to deck itself in -public with the riches of a foreign language. Marcus Aurelius converse with -himself in Greek in the memoirs where be makes his examination of -conscience. Why should we wonder that an audience should most readily -collect in Rome to listen to some elegant rhetorician from the East? - -The reputation to be gained from public speaking was too enviable to admit -of delay in its acquisition. All persons did not even wait for manhood -before claiming the attention of the public. -{298} -Far from pleading youth as an excuse, they gloried in it. Hermogenes of -Tarsus made his _début_ at fifteen, as Marcus Aurelius tells us in his -travels. "In me," says Hermogenes haughtily, "you see an orator who has had -no master, an orator to whom years are still wanting." A sterile precocity -it proved to be, making him, according to his enemies, an old man among -youths, and a youth among old men. - -Emulation fired women also. Many, and among their number young girls, -undertook to speak in public, and spoke effectively too, and with success. -History has left us the names of several of these muses, as the Greeks -sometimes called them. The muses did not reveal themselves too visibly to -their worshippers. A large curtain veiled them from the audience, lest -their beauty should make too dazzling an impression. No longer as at Rome -did draperies shelter the woman from the public; it was the public screened -from feminine attractions. - -In Italy we have seen that poets were among the most eager aspirants for -recognition; but among the Greeks prose held public attention almost -exclusively, for a reason which we hope to make clear. The crowd rushed to -hear sophists and rhetors. Of historians there is no call to speak. The -name was claimed by some, but on weak pretensions. They babbled of military -art without understanding its first rules, and of geography while -transplanting towns and rivers from one country to another. They took -dragons stamped upon the Parthian standards for veritable dragons, of -monstrous dimensions, fastened to pikes and destined to be launched upon -the enemy, and to strangle and devour him. To give more credibility to -these accounts, they assure us that, perched upon a tree, they themselves -had seen the monsters and witnessed the frightful carnage. Elsewhere we -learn that a general slew twenty-seven Armenians by uttering one cry, or (a -statement no less remarkable) that, in a grand battle fought in Media, the -Romans had only two dead and nine wounded, while the enemy lost (observe -the exactness of the calculation) 70,236 men. [Footnote 78] And many more -such tales indulged in by Greek historians, - - "Quidquid Graecia mendax - Audet in historia," (_Juvenal_,) - -and detailed to credulous hearers. It is true that these authors of rare -imagination laid great stress upon fine language, if not upon veracity, -striving to gain distinction as polished writers. Lucian, however, who had -heard them, believed as little in their eloquence as in their truthfulness, -and laughed unmercifully at rhetors disguised as historians. - - [Footnote 78: Lucian, "Of the Way to write History."] - -On another point the Greeks differed from the Romans. With the exception of -these written recitations, they did not read their orations. While in Rome -we find public lectures, in Greece we have conferences or oral exercises. -The theme was no doubt contemplated in private, and ideas were brought -forward which habit had made familiar to the orator, but he spoke without -manuscript gaining in vivacity of delivery and gesture by this liberty of -action. Pliny complains of the inconvenience of reading an address: "Since -neither hand nor eye is free, on which a declaimer should especially rely, -what wonder that the attention wanders?" The Greek threw off all fetters, -and spoke at once to eye and ear; unlike the lecturer who read his address, -seated, in a voice whose inflections were monotonous in comparison to the -modulations we are now about to describe. Our actor, for the platform was -in fact a stage to him, was wont to call violent gesticulation to the aid -of speech. He paced up and down in agitation, smiting his thighs, -perspiring and panting. Again, if the subject demanded calmness and -tranquillity, his actions grew melodious as a song to charm the audience, -throwing into the sweet, harmonious language of Greece new suavity and -unknown grace. -{299} -When Adrian of Tyre spoke, it was like the warbling of a nightingale, and -even those who were ignorant of Greek came to listen. Herodias Atticus had -more variety of tone than flutes and lyres; and, supreme above all, Varus -possessed a voice so flexible that one could have danced to it, as to the -sound of musical instruments. [Footnote 79] - - [Footnote 79: Lucian, Master of Rhetoric, 19, 20; Plutarch, How to - Listen, 7; Philostratus, Life of the Soph. II. v. 8; x, 8, xxviii.] - -One can fancy with what facility the fervid Greek imagination lent itself -to this enthusiasm. The state of religious belief contributed to bring -spirits under the dominion of eloquence. The ancient faith was singularly -weakened among pagan nations; and the priests who offered sacrifice to the -deities of Olympus never dreamed of giving instruction to the people whom -they gathered together in the temples. Men feel the need of moral teaching, -however faulty may be their practice. They thirst for it, and seek it, -though perhaps not at its true source. If pure waters are denied them, they -draw from troubled streams. Preaching, which had been neglected by the -ministers of paganism, was taken up by sophists. One had but to show -himself abroad, manifesting a desire to speak, and straightway a circle -gathered about him. To a renowned orator who wished to be silent, the -privilege of silence was denied; speech was not his to refuse. As, for -example, when Dion Chrysostom came as a spectator to the Olympic games, -hardly was he recognized before they forced him to address them; when, -taking for his theme the god they celebrated, he discoursed upon the -attributes of Jupiter. - -Another peculiarity of the time was that an emperor even did not disdain to -inculcate virtue in public, guided, we may boldly assert, by no impulse of -vanity, but by a more generous motive than that of exhibiting his -eloquence. Marcus Aurelius, for it is of him we are speaking, was going to -war with the Marcomanni. It was feared, and with too good cause, that he -might die on this expedition, and he was implored earnestly, and without -flattery, to address the people, and leave to them, by way of farewell, the -moral precept that had guided his own career. He consented, and for three -days in succession his people learned, from the imperial philosopher, duty -as he himself understood and practised it. A curious and touching spectacle -it must have been to see a sovereign regarding the instruction of his -subjects as one of the functions of royalty. In unveiling his great soul, -Marcus Aurelius revealed to his people the secret of an administration -judged previously only by its beneficial effects; and left to his -successors a model that was to find, alas! few imitators.[Footnote 80] - - [Footnote 80: Vulcatius Gallicanus, Life of Aridius Cassius, 3.] - - V. - -In all ages, even the most degraded, a few souls have found a source of -happy inspiration in moral truth. Whether among such self-appointed guides -in spiritual matters there were many really worthy of their mission, we may -be permitted to doubt. The instance, Lucian (I do not speak of Christians, -whose veracity might be doubted), shows the conduct of these teachers of -virtue to have been little in accordance with their language. Morality was -in danger of being stricken with sterility under such tillage, but the -field remained fertile though ill cultivated. - -What can eloquence accomplish if the matter itself of eloquence be wanting? -All cannot be orators for the choosing, nor even all who are endowed by -heaven with those precious gifts that make an orator. There must be great -interests to defend and great questions to debate. Place Demosthenes or -Mirabeau in a chair of rhetoric, and what would they do with their genius? -{300} -A time came when there was no call but for school harangues; when -professors trained their pupils in reading and speaking upon hackneyed -themes familiar to every classroom. That such exercises may be useful for -children of fifteen years of age, I will not deny; but here we have masters -of eloquence descanting upon these venerable subjects, and impersonating -Alexander or Themistocles, Miltiades, Menelaus, or Priam. They were -scholars whose schooling was never ended. Gray heads betokened no -emancipation from childish leading-strings, and death found them far -removed from the maturity of manly oratory. - -Would you know the subjects that attracted a delighted audience? A -Lacedaemonian urging the Greeks to destroy trophies raised during the -Peloponnesian war; or a Scythian conjuring his countrymen to abandon the -life of cities for a wandering existence. One while we have Athenians -wounded in Sicily praying for death at the hands of their companions; -again, Demosthenes justifying himself against Demades for receiving Persian -gold; with a hundred such trite themes, preserved to us by the complaisant -biographers of the rhetors. It is unlucky that they have not transmitted -for our edification any of these marvellous harangues entire, but we know -enough of them to be sure that the style then in vogue was that sonorous -Asiatic eloquence, pompous and commonplace in tone, compared by Dionysius -of Halicarnassus to a courtesan entering an honest household to drive -thence the mother of the family. Demosthenes is not to be recognized in the -flowery declamation put into his mouth in common with other great -personages. There were usages of style and rhetorical receipts, adapted to -all circumstances, serviceable for none. - -The glory of ancient Greece was another text on which rhetors loved to -exercise their skill. They consoled themselves for achieving no exploits by -celebrating those of their ancestors; boasting of victories only when the -day of victory was long gone by. One orator was pleasantly nicknamed -Marathon from his inability to pronounce any discourse without referring to -the warriors killed at Marathon. Platea, Salamis, and Mycale had become -rhetorical commonplaces. "Why," asks Plutarch sadly, "why recall triumphs -that serve only to inspire us with useless pride? We should propose only -imitable examples. Are we not like children walking about in their fathers' -shoes?" - -The eulogium of a city, a god, or some grand personage afforded matter for -ample development. Socrates tells us that speech makes trifles important -and great things trifling. This false definition of eloquence was received -as a precept, as an axiom. Panegyrists no longer confined their -commendation to heroes and great men, but pleaded the cause of the tyrant -Phalaris or the cowardly Thersites. One vaunted the merits of long hair, -another of bald heads. The praises were sung of parasites, parrots, gnats, -and fleas. "_In tenui labor_," said Virgil, when about to sing of -bees; but he could add, "_at tenuis, non gloria;_" for who can help -admiring the labors of these intelligent republicans? The rhetor promised -himself no less glory in celebrating the almost invisible wonders of the -flea. This kind of discourse received a name which may be translated -"paradoxical or unsustainable causes." Yet, strange to say, clever men did -not disapprove of such topics. Aulus Gellius considers them suited to -awaken talent, to sharpen wit, and inure it to difficulties. [Footnote 81] - - [Footnote 81: Lucian, Phalaris, The Gnat; Dion Chrysostom, - _passim_; Plutarch, Art of Listening, 13; Synesius, Praise of - Baldness; Aulus Geilius, xvii. 12.] - -To bring something out of nothing is a success of which one may justly be -proud. But rhetors, like conquerors, possessed an insatiable ambition. They -wished to astonish the world with new feats of prowess, and possibility has -no limits for adventurous and valiant spirits. -{301} -To speak without preparation, sagely, long-windedly, without error or -hesitation, being the noblest triumph attainable by man, improvisation -became the exercise _par excellence_. [Footnote 82] There stood the -orator, erect and tranquil, sure of himself and of his powers, waiting -until the audience should throw him the text selected for his dissertation. -The word given, he plunged into the discourse; words flowed in a -self-supplying stream, pure and abundant; and periods unrolled themselves -with admirable facility. No obstacle was insuperable; the stream flowed on -and on, straying perchance into side channels here and there; but the -listener followed its wanderings contentedly, for the paths were flowery -and came quickly to a termination. Phrases ready for all times, and served -up on all occasions, with a facility that knew neither pause nor -obstruction--such was the supreme merit or the age. But if we may believe -certain cavillers, it often sufficed to bring to the work audacity, to push -on boldly, careless of ideas, prompt in the creation of new and odd -expressions, regardless of solecisms, and anxious to avoid but one -thing--silence. [Footnote 83] To acquire this noble art, one needed little -study. Ignorance was no longer an obstacle, for it gave greater intrepidity -and audacity. "Would you have your son a good orator," says an epigram of -the Anthology, "do not let him learn his letters." [Footnote 84] - - [Footnote 82: Pliny peaks admiringly of one Isaeus, and improvisatore. - But it was an exception in Rome. Lett. ii. 8.] - - [Footnote 83: Lucian, Master of Rhetoric, 18.] - - [Footnote 84: Anthology, vi. 152.] - -We feel far removed from the time when Demosthenes thought it no blot on -his glory that his orations smelt of the oil! Greece has ever loved words. -Take away her eloquence, and she remains gossiping and loquacious. If I may -be allowed the comparison, she is like the princess in the fairy story, -dropping pearls from her lips. The true pearls being exhausted, only waxen -pearls remained. - -And now, having proved an absence of apparent labor to be a condition of -success in these exhibitions, we can understand why poets did not resort -thither for the recitation of their works. Improvisations in verse had not -then been invented, but the enthusiasm they would have excited one may -easily fancy. - -Spoiled by public favor, these fluent geniuses could not fail to hold their -own merits in high estimation. We will not take literally Lucian's -assertion that they set themselves above Demosthenes: "Who was your orator -of Paeania compared to me? Must I conquer all the ancients one by one?" -[Footnote 85] But they frequently speak in magnificent terms of their own -talents, elated at the tricks of the tongue so thoroughly mastered. Praise -them as one would, their self-praise was louder still. The sophists hid -their vanity more skillfully perhaps, affecting sober vestments and an air -of austerity, but it was merely a stage trick suited to the character to be -sustained. Sometimes, in order to produce a better effect on their hearers, -they appeared clad in the skins of wild beasts, with hair and beard -dishevelled, or wearing simply an old tunic and carrying a wallet and -staff. [Footnote 86] The rhetor was more dainty in his toilette; his -garments were of a white stuff woven with flowers, brought from the looms -of Tarentum, and so fine in texture as to show the outlines of the form -through its gauzy tissue. He wore Attic sandals like those of women, -covered here and there, or a Sicyonian buskin decorated with white fringe. -He did not disdain those external signs of luxury that betoken rank; and -went from town to town followed by numerous servants leading horses and -packs of hounds. One in particular drove a chariot with silvered reins, -and, passing lingeringly along the ranks of spectators on his way to the -chair, allowed them to contemplate his gorgeous robe covered with diamonds. -[Footnote 87] - - [Footnote 85: Lucian, Master of Rhetoric, 21.] - - [Footnote 86: Lucian, Peregrinus, Eunapius, Prohaeresius.] - - [Footnote 87: Philostratus, Life of the Sophists, I. xxv. 4; II. x. 4.] - -{302} - -Philostratus, the biographer and fervent admirer of the sophists, remarks -concerning one among them (the only one to whom he accords the praise) that -he was always modest, and never spoke boastingly of himself. The vanity of -many of them was simply ludicrous. Philagrius, newly arrived in Athens, was -indignant because a young man had ventured to ask his name, and shuddered -at the idea of meeting an individual unacquainted with Philagrius. In an -assembly he let fall an expression that shocked the ear of a purist. "Who -authorizes the use of that word?" asked the critic. "Philagrius," was the -haughty answer. Words sufficed that day to express his sentiments, but it -was not always so. One day an auditor presumed to fall asleep, an act of -irreverence soon detected by the orator. He paused, stupefied to perceive -that the audience were not all ears to hear him. Then, eager to avenge the -wound inflicted on literature in his person, he descended from the stage, -approached the unhappy sleeper, and roused him with a vigorous cuff. This -severe but merited reproof was not without a certain eloquence; and we -imagine that never again was anyone caught napping during the discourses of -the irascible Philagrius. [Footnote 88] - - [Footnote 88: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. viii. 1; xxvii. 3.] - -A Phoenician rhetorician arrived in Attica. "With me," he explained to his -audience, "literature comes to you a second time from Phoenicia." Polemon, -the Carian, speaking for the first time in Athens, opened his address thus: -"Athenians, you are said to be good judges. I shall ascertain the truth of -the report by your manner of receiving my discourse." Forewarned is -forearmed. The audience were to applaud Polemon under pain of appearing -dull in Polemon's eyes. His genius, according to his own estimate, placed -him above the rank of kingdoms, on a level with kings and even with gods. -And as a great man must die after a fashion of his own, he had himself -buried alive, in his old age, lest years should impair his success. Hie -weeping friends delayed to seal the stone over the cavern. "Close the -tomb," he called out from below--"Close the tomb. Let it not be said that -the sun beheld Polemon silent." [Footnote 89] - - [Footnote 89: Philostratus, Life of the Sophists, - I. xxv, 9, 27; II. x. 4.] - - - VI. - -Did worshippers so convinced of their own merit recognize and honor the -gifts of others? We shall see that they could mutually esteem and praise -each other. Herodius Atticus had been declaiming at the Olympic games: "You -are a second Demosthenes," he was told. "I would rather be a second -Polemon," was the reply. An odd desire, and one that showed the bad taste -of that day; but it expressed homage to a rival. Herodius in his turn saw -his superiority recognized in the exclamation of another rhetor: "We are -small change (_menue monnaie_) beside you." [Footnote 90] But these -instances of modesty are rare. They were usually indisposed to yield the -palm of eloquence so generously. Jealous one of another, they regarded all -praise not personal to themselves as so much stolen from them. Their -self-esteem was equalled only by their disdain of all rivals. Lucian gives -a recipe of a method often employed to injure a rival. "Ridicule every -other orator. Has he talent? Affect to believe that the sentiments are not -his own; that he decks himself in borrowed spoils. Is he commonplace? Think -him odious. Come late to his exhibitions. It will make you conspicuous. -Choose a moment of silence to utter a eulogium in singular language, -calculated to distract and startle the audience. Your exaggerated praises -will disgust them with the object of your praise and make them stop their -ears. Almost invariably smile scornfully, and never appear pleased with -what is said." [Footnote 91] - - [Footnote 90: Ibid. I. xxv. 17; II. v.8.] - - [Footnote 91: Lucian, Master of Rhetoric, 22.] - -Meantime the orator, seeing his success threatened, was wont to meet the -skilful attack with a defence no less skilful. He managed his resources -prudently, gathering about him devoted friends to assist in the manoeuvres. -{303} -Under all circumstances he must count upon these faithful satellites. -Marcus Aurelius was to attend the exercises of Aristides. "Will you let me -bring my disciples?" asked the prudent rhetor. "Certainly," said the -emperor, "if it is customary." "And will you allow them to shout and -applaud with all their might?" added Aristides ingenuously. "Oh! -certainly," replied Marcus Aurelius, laughing, "that depends entirely upon -yourself." When the master spoke, the scholars must stamp enthusiastically. -If he were about to fail, they must reach out a helping hand, and give him -by applause the time to recover his self-possession. - -Happy he who could count among his admirers some high and puissant -celebrity; for who can fail to discern the grandeur of an oration stamped -with the approbation of an imposing authority? When Heliodorus declaimed, -the emperor, holding him in great affection (who was that emperor, by the -way? The historian does not tell us, but no matter!), regarded with an air -of irritation anyone disinclined to applaud the speaker. And the laggards -took the hint, we may be sure, and adapted their impressions thenceforth to -the emotions of royalty. [Footnote 92] - - [Footnote 92: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. xxxii. 3] - -But when an orator had reached the highest rank in the city, it is not to -be supposed that his reign was free from rivalry. Combatants came from a -distance to compete with him. Many lecturers, and by no means the least -brilliant, have a taste for travelling, and would extend their reputation -in any direction where there are ears to listen to them. Knights errant of -the rhetorical art wandered from province to province, seeking adversaries -and flinging challenges as they went. If victories heralded their approach, -the crowd ran to greet them, and the most illustrious citizens met them at -the city gates. - -Conceive the uneasiness and agitation of the unlucky sophist or rhetor thus -disturbed in the possession of his glory. He had labored long to attain the -position of eminence, now threatened by the approaching aspirant. O -nothingness of glory! A single day might suffice to destroy the edifice of -many years. What was to be done? To refuse the challenge was to declare -himself vanquished. Rather death than such humiliation! - -Death might follow a similar struggle. Niger, the famous declaimer, had -swallowed a fishbone which stuck in his throat. There came a stranger to -pronounce a public harangue, and Niger, fearing that his silence might be -construed into a desire to fly from the lists, declaimed in his turn, with -the fishbone still in his throat. The effort caused an inflammation so -violent as to result in his death.[Footnote 93] - - [Footnote 93: Plutarch, Precepts of Health, 16.] - -The time having arrived for the new speaker to be heard, he opened his -address with a eulogium of the audience, as the exordium best calculated to -ensure success. "In this place one should bend the knee," [Footnote 94] -cried one of these orators, as if struck with a religious awe of the city -where he was to speak. We have two declamations of Lucian's that give a -good idea of the precautions peculiar to the trade. "The chosen of every -city are before me, the flower of Macedonia. This assemblage consists not -of an ignorant rabble, but of orators, historians, and sophists of the -highest distinction." This satirical Lucian was not sparing of compliments -to his Macedonian public; what was left for the Athenians? "I have long -desired an audience such as this. What approbation could I look for after -passing through your city without obtaining a hearing?" Then follows the -panegyric of the city, endowed not only with especial magnificence, but -with more men of power and talent than fell to the lot of any other city. -He exalts their benevolence and affability, and likens himself to the -Scythian Anacharsis, so fascinated with the charms of Athens as to be -unable to tear himself away.[Footnote 95] - - [Footnote 94: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. v. 3.] - - [Footnote 95: Herodotus, 8, The Scyth, 10, 11,] - -{304} - -I spoke just now of knights errant. Do you remember in accounts of the -tournament the disguised cavalier who enters the lists and is recognized by -the weight of his blows? The champions of rhetoric were sometimes the -heroes of similar adventures. - -Hippodromus of Larissa landed at Smyrna, and, following the crowd, entered -a hall where one Megistias had drawn together an audience. Hippodromus was -in travelling gear. Approaching Megistias, he said: "Change clothes with -me. Lend me your mantle for a moment." The other looked at him to see if he -might be a maniac; but the exchange was made. "And now give me a subject of -declamation," continued Hippodromus. They gave him one, which he treated so -skilfully that Megistias exclaimed with surprise: "But who are you?" "I am -Hippodromus the Thessalian." In a few moments the report of the illustrious -rhetor's arrival had spread through the town, and the whole population -rushed to see and hear him. [Footnote 96] - - [Footnote 96: Philostratus, Life of the Sophists, I. xxiv.4.] - -Again the challenger would be some great celebrity. Anatolius, prefect of -the praetorium, and gifted with remarkable eloquence, announced his speedy -arrival at Athens, challenging all speech-makers to an encounter, and -proposing one of the most difficult questions capable of discussion by -trained intelligences. Great agitation ensued. Anatolius was a formidable -judge, both by his science and by his exalted position in the state. -Eunapus tells us that Greece trembled more on that occasion than at the -approach of the Persians. He was Prohaeresius, the great Prohaeresius, -victor in every battle, to whom Rome was to erect a statue bearing the -inscription: _Rome, queen of the world, to Prohaeresius, king of -eloquence._ The Greeks decreed even a grander title to him. He was no -mere mortal; he was Mercury disguised in human form. One day when he had -finished speaking, the people gathered round him and kissed his hands and -feet, nay, licked his breast, as if he had been in very deed a god. And -would you know by what manifestation of power he had deserved this -idolatry? After improvising a long discourse, he had forthwith repeated it -word for word, without missing a single syllable. The prodigy could not be -denied, for reporters had been provided for the occasion, who had noted -down every expression. [Footnote 97] - - [Footnote 97: Eunapus, Prohaeresius.] - -These transports on the part of the public, these passionate -demonstrations, bordering sometimes on delirium, are so foreign to our -habits that we should be inclined to suspect exaggeration in the recital of -Eunapus, if many other authorities did not testify also to the ecstasies -excited in the populace by eloquence. Habits of mind are, perhaps, harder -to eradicate than those of the soul, and Christianity succeeded in -introducing austere ideas in the spiritual life without immediately curing -this excessive love of eloquence. Applause was heard sometimes in churches, -and St. John Chrysostom had to impose silence more than once upon his -hearers, who clapped him, forgetful of the sanctity of the place in their -enthusiasm for the orator. - -We have seen the bright side of the subject, but every medal has two sides. -Without speaking of the jealousies and enmities inherent to the profession, -can one be sure of being equal to one's self every day and all day? You -appear before an imposing assembly; all eyes are fixed upon you. Let -emotion seize you, a little lapse of memory, a slight absence of mind, and -you are lost. The thought is enough to intimidate the most intrepid rhetor. -And it was a misfortune not without example. Herodius Atticus, on one -occasion, stopped short in the presence of the emperor, and thought for an -instant of drowning himself in the Ister. -{305} -A similar accident happened to Heraclides, who took the accident more -philosophically, and sought consolation for his disgrace in abusing -improvisation, and composing a work in praise of labor. [Footnote 98] - - [Footnote 98: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. i. 36; xxvi. 3, 5. Here - belongs an anecdote showing the pleasure taken by rhetors in insulting - each other. Heraclides sent his Panegyric of Labor (Greek text) to one - Ptolemaeus, and adept in improvisation. Ptolemaeus returned it to him, - after erasing the first letter, so that the title stood, "Panegyric of - an Ass." The biographer does not mention that Heraclides found the - epigram to his taste.] - -And who can count on the good nature of his audience? Listeners have a -certain malice of their own at times, as Philagrius once discovered to his -cost. He had composed a discourse in Asia, and learned it by heart. On -arriving in Athens, he presented himself before the amateurs and burst -forth into improvisation. By a wonderful coincidence, they had given him -precisely the subject which he had so carefully treated. Philagrius, sure -of his ground, began boldly, and wandered on like one led by the moment's -inspiration. He grew diffusive and pathetic; but, strange to relate, as the -discourse proceeded, the audience gave evidence of merriment, first by -subdued tittering, finally by uproarious bursts of laughter. Philagrius -paused in wrath and amazement. To calm this excitement, his hearers -produced a copy of the address which he had repeated without altering a -single word. Philagrius had been caught in a trap.[Footnote 99] - - [Footnote 99: Philostratus, Life of Soph. II. viii. 3.] - -The abuse of this false eloquence could not fail in the end to produce -disgust. Serious men began to ask themselves if these brilliant exercises -were true oratorical art or merely a vain tissue of words. A few even of -those who had yielded to the fascination began to look pityingly on -declaimers. Lucian lavished satire upon them, but the trade was still -prosperous in his day. Synesius, coming later, spared them as little. From -him we learn their misery as well as their presumption. We see that the -palmy days of the profession had passed away. - -"I will not wander from door to door, attracting the townspeople with the -promise of a charming speech. O sad profession! Speaking for the crowd; -attempting the impossible in trying to please so many different minds! The -stage orator, no longer belonging to himself, is in truth a slave to the -public, subject to the caprice of every individual. If an auditor begins to -laugh, the sophist is lost. He dreads a morose visage; too close attention -seems to him to imply criticism, a restless turning of the head to signify -weariness. And yet he surely merits indulgent masters who sacrifices sleep -at night, spends his days in toil, consuming himself, as it were, with -hunger and fatigue, in order to compose a fine address. He comes before the -disdainful crowd to charm their ears, concealing his indisposition with an -affectation of health. Having bathed the day before, he presents himself to -the public at the appointed time, blooming, dimpling, displaying every -grace. He turns to the audience, wreathed in smiles, joyous in appearance, -but torn with secret pangs. He chews gum to make his voice clear and -strong, for even the most serious sophist lays great stress upon a fine -voice, and lavishes upon it much ill-concealed care. In the middle of the -oration, he pauses to ask for a beverage, previously prepared. A servant -offers it, and he drinks, moistening his throat, the better to pronounce -his melodious sentences. But the poor wretch cannot with all this gain the -good will of his hearers. The audience await the final clause impatiently, -that they may laugh in liberty. They would gladly see him with -out-stretched arm and parted lips, preserving the attitude and silence of a -statue: then, when worn out with weariness, they could escape." [Footnote -100] - - [Footnote 100: Synesius, Dion] - -But of all the perils that menaced their very existence, sophists and -rhetoricians had most cause to dread the growing strength of Christianity. -The new religion proposed to its disciples, as the aim of life, an object -far more elevated than the pleasures of eloquence. It was no longer a -question of noble words, but of noble actions. -{306} -What were intellectual satisfactions in comparison to the joys of -conscience? The Christian sought the eloquence that should teach him his -duties, and the sophist with uncertain and contradictory answers was no -longer an authority. He must appeal to the priest for precepts of -unfailing, unchanging wisdom. Let some solitary, in repute for sanctity and -for familiarity with the things of God, leave his desert for a moment to -mingle among men, and the crowd rushed to greet him. St. John Chrysostom -proudly contrasts the entrance of a monk with that of a sophist. A few days -more, and the revolution was consummated. Sophists saw no one following -them, while the troop of the faithful, that is to say, the entire nation, -pressed upon the steps of the humble monk. A preacher of the gospel, even -if recommended only by soundness of doctrine and morality, was sure of -seeing listeners seated at the foot of the pulpit. But preachers who think -only of the triumph of the faith attain the true glory of oratory, that of -arousing emotion. Not only may a great thought come from the heart, but the -expression with which it is given forth. Why listen to elegant but empty -amplifications in schools, when in a neighboring basilica one could enjoy a -magnificent oration, whose brilliancy should remain untarnished through -fifteen centuries? No rhetor, but a young priest from Antioch, received -from contemporary admirers as well as from posterity the glorious name of -Chrysostom--Golden Mouth. The church is fertile in orators as in martyrs. -Christianity did not smother eloquence. She assigned to it new destinies; -regenerating, or rather (for it existed no longer) resuscitating it. - - - VII. - -And now we ask ourselves, what good and what evil these exercises have -done? The mischief is not far to seek. It is exhibited in every page of the -present article. Invented by vanity, these literary and philosophical -exhibitions had seldom any better object than the satisfaction of vanity; -hence their vitality and duration, but also their sterility. - -But does this imply that they answered no useful end? By no means. I do not -believe with Ovid, a great amateur of public lectures, as it appears -(perhaps he used them himself), that they excite poetic genius. [Footnote -101] His contemporaries Horace and Virgil had no need of the stimulant of -public praise in the composition of their masterpieces. Pliny saw another -advantage in lectures, as giving a writer the opportunity to consult the -public, and to invite criticism with the view of correcting defects. -[Footnote 102] But an audience thus convoked is no severe and judicious -Aristarchus, overlooking no defect, [Footnote 103] but forever crying -"Correct." It is there to approve, and any lack of commendation is -generally criticised by the author as a want of good manners. Pliny's -friends applauded him, and Pliny, with singular simplicity, confessed -himself charmed with their good taste. [Footnote 104] What is he thinking -of when he speaks of the free judgment of auditors, and yet complains of -those who deny him applause? In fact, he says, whether you are the -inferior, equal, or superior of the lecturer, you have an interest in -praising him whom you surpass or who equals or surpasses you. Your -superior, because you merit no praise if he deserves none; your equal or -inferior, because the glory lavished upon him tends to raise your -reputation. With this convenient theory criticism loses its rights. We need -not wonder that Lucan, [Footnote 105] whose brilliant defects are easily -pardoned, allowed himself to be elated by the boisterous applause accorded -to his Pharsalia; or that, comparing his age and _débuts_ with those -of Virgil, be exclaimed! "My friends, am I so far behind the great?" -[Footnote 106] Seneca wisely decided that nothing had injured literature so -much as popular acclamations. [Footnote 107] - - [Footnote 101: Pont. iv. 2.] - - [Footnote 102: Letters, v, 3; vii. 17.] - - [Footnote 103: Horace, Poetic Art, 445.] - - [Footnote 104: Letters, iii. 18.] - - [Footnote 105: Letters, vi. 17.] - - [Footnote 106: Saetonius, Lucan.] - - [Footnote 107: Letters, 102.] - -{307} - -Far from thinking, as Pliny does, the system of lectures a finishing -school, I believe the author to be confirmed in his defects by applause and -adulation. But I agree with Pliny as to the efficiency of these assemblies -in preserving and propagating a taste for intellectual things. Mental -labor, even when bestowed on trivial matters, is of use in fostering -intelligence. Rhetors and sophists were generally inferior orators and -philosophers, but they deserve our thanks for their fidelity to study and -to the preservation of literary traditions. But for them the maturity of -Christian eloquence might have been long delayed. We must remember that -Basil, Gregory, Chrysostom, Augustine, and Ambrose had passed through their -schools before entering the church. The disciples effaced their masters, -while profiting by lessons received from them. - -And, turning to a different view of the subject, it is no matter of -indifference to continue beyond the usual period assigned to serious labors -one's devotion to literature, so softening and humanizing in its influence -on the heart. This especially applies to a nation, unprovided by religion -or morality with any remedy against evil instincts. To write little verses -and polish periods is no great affair, I confess; but it is better than -wallowing in low and sometimes cruel sensuality, like the rabble. In point -of religious and moral convictions, the Greeks had fallen to a level with -the Romans. But one thing elevated them: an untiring love of poetry, -eloquence, and philosophy. In default of the reality, they pursued its -shadow. Ixion, so say their mythologists, embraced only the phantom of -Juno. True; but, while striving to win this phantom, he had not stooped to -base and ignoble loves. The astute and polished Greek avoided that -barbarism which engulfed the coarse, unlettered Roman. - -We must not forget that Christian preaching has been served to a limited -extent, but yet effectively, by habits introduced by sophists. The first -comers freely explained their doctrines in public places without exciting -surprise. Every system received a hearing. Stoics, epicureans, and cynics -all sought to win converts to their various theories. Beneath the mantle of -philosophy, the Christian could mingle with the crowd, and, while teaching -a morality hitherto unknown, prepare the way for novel doctrines. When St. -Paul arrived in Athens, that city where all men, strangers or citizens, -were occupied only with hearing or uttering something new, [Footnote 108] -the multitude at first mistook the apostle for some wandering sophist, and -lent him an attentive ear so long as he did not openly shock their -preconceived ideas. Peregrinus, whose life and death Lucian gives us, -became a cynic after having been a Christian, and continued to address the -people. Lucian does not clearly mark the change nor the distinction between -the two systems of instruction, which seem to him equally strange. A -similar confusion must have often arisen, not in the minds of Christians -turned philosophers (there were fewer apostasies than conversions), but of -philosophers who became Christians. - - [Footnote 108: Acts of the Apostles, xvii. 21.] - -Our study is ended. I had merely thought of writing a chapter on literary -history, without seeking in the past an attack or a defence of the present. -It is difficult to compare two periods justly. Our lectures and conferences -differ in many respects from those in vogue among the ancients, but who can -deny the various points of resemblance? If we wish, as everyone indeed must -wish, to secure a durable and legitimate success to the system, we must -remember it is not established merely for the recreation and diversion of -the public, like the theatre or the concert-room, but also and above all -for their instruction. It is a question of education. -{308} -I would have the lecture, whether literary or scientific, given in an -attractive style, not after the severe, didactic fashion or a _cours de -faculté;_ but it should be distinctly a lecture, so that the hearer may -carry away with him some profitable ideas with the memory of an agreeable -hour. In my humble opinion, it is only on these conditions that the system -of public conferences will obtain not merely a passing popularity, but -freedom of the city. If this be true, are we to encourage authors to read -their unpublished works, poems, dramas, odes, romances, or what not? In -these days there are other roads to publicity, and it is not by a single -hearing that intellectual works are to be judged. Still less must it be -allowed (for even improbabilities should be anticipated) that an author, -speculating in fame, should announce his arrival on such a day and hour: -"To speak about what? I have not the least idea, but no matter! I shall -speak, and you will have seen and heard me." A mere matter of curiosity, -making one think of the tight rope. - -Another danger is, that conferences may become a sort of intellectual -gymnasium, only good for the development of suppleness and agility of mind. -Hitherto, in running over the lists of subjects under discussion, we have -met none of the frivolous and insignificant themes that rhetors revelled in -handling. The titles at least announce a serious purpose. We should be glad -to attribute the merit of this to the wisdom of the choosers, but the -thought suggests itself that the administrative control may deserve part of -the praise. It is well known that no one can deliver lectures without -especial permission, and a especial approval of the subject of his address. -It is also well known that certain orators find it impossible to obtain -this permission. Whether this exercise of authority has inconveniences as -well as advantages is a question we will not here investigate. But there is -one among the conditions imposed on public lectures that must suit every -sensible person, the restrictions with regard to age. It is not difficult -to find young persons who, mistaking temerity for talent, are eager for an -opportunity to display their presumptuous ignorance. Can we even be quite -certain that among those who have passed their twenty-fifth year there may -not be some who would do well to preserve a discreet silence? "Weigh -carefully the burdens your shoulders are to bear," said Horace to the -Romans of his day. The precept is old, but sound even now. Remember, all -you who present yourselves for public speaking, that it is not merely an -honor, but a responsibility also. Consult your strength. Neither diploma -nor certificate of capacity is demanded of you. Do not, however, imagine -that no quality is needed to fit you for this professorship (for the post -is nothing less than a professorship) except unbounded self-confidence. The -least we can ask is that those who would teach us should be well informed -themselves. Good sense, ever successful in the end, would do justice sooner -or later to all such vain pretensions; but meantime the oft-deluded public -might have learned to avoid the recreation prepared for them. We earnestly -desire the long life and prosperity of the system, and therefore trust that -no lecturers likely to injure it should be tolerated. Is our wish to be -fulfilled? The future must answer. - --------- - -{309} - - Original. - - Verheyden's Right Hand. - - -If there were no music, I think there would have been no Verheyden. He was -an obligato. - -The child of a violin-player and a singer, both professional, he had been -born into an atmosphere of sweet sounds. His baby eyelids had drooped in -slumber to a flute-voice lullaby, or some ethereal strain from his father's -precious little Cremona. Every breeze that swept over the rippling Neckar -or down the wooded mountain-sides, playing mournfully through the wind-harp -in the window, caught the child at his play, hushing him. As soon as he -could reach them, his fingers sought the keys of the piano; and from that -thrilling moment when first a musical sound woke at his touch, Verheyden -had found his occupation. It became his life. Every feeling found -expression at the tips of his fingers, and his fiercest passions culminated -in a discord. - -It is said that a violin long played upon will show in the wood flutings -worn by the "continual dropping" of musical sounds from the strings. So -Verheyden seemed wrought upon by his art. He looked like a man who might -have stepped from some wild German tale; of Walpurgis, or other. He was -called tall, being slight, and appeared to be made of nerves and as little -as possible besides. His dark hair rose like the hair in Sir Godfrey -Kneller's portraits, and streamed back from his forehead as if blown. His -thin face was alive with restless gray eyes--the eyes of a listener, not a -seer--with fiery nostrils to the slightly aquiline nose, and with an -unsteady mouth. He had frequent flitting motions, apparently inconsequent, -really timed to some tune in his mind. He was moody, absent, abrupt; he was -too much in earnest about everything. He had little perception of wit or -humor, and he never laughed except with delight. He could be bold, yet he -was simple and ingenuous as a child. An enthusiast, with room in his -narrow, intense brain for but one idea at a time; a man who would take life -by the blade rather than the handle; a man in _alto relievo_. - -On the breath of some unaccountable impulse, he would have said--fulfilling -his destiny, say we--Verheyden came to the New World, wandered about a -little, dazed and homesick, at length engaged to take the place of Laurie, -the organist, who was about going to Europe for further instruction. - -He went into the church one afternoon with Laurie to try the organ. A -sultry afternoon it was, the eve of the Assumption; but inside the church -all was coolness and silence and shadow, most home-like to the stranger of -any place he had seen this side the ocean. While the organist played, be -leaned from the choir and looked down into the nave. Laurie played with -great sweetness and delicacy, and chose first one of those yearning things -that touch, but do not rouse; and Verheyden leaned and listened, dreaming -himself at home. - -Ah! the green, cool Neckar flowing downward to the Rhine; all the rafts and -all the barges, all the wet and mossy rock; the overlooking mountains dense -with forests to their summits; the gray outstanding castle crumbling lothly -from its post; the red roofs of the houses, the churches fair and many; all -the quiet and the color of that home in fatherland. - -{310} - -When the organist ceased playing, the dreamer felt as though he had been in -motion and were suddenly stopped. He perceived that he was waving his hand, -and became aware of a little maiden dressed in white who had been going -about placing flowers, and who, at the first sound of music, had sunk upon -the altar-steps, and sat there listening, her eyes upturned and fixed on -the crucifix. - -"Who, then, is she?" asked Verheyden, as Laurie trifled with the keys, -holding the clew while he searched what next to play. - -Laurie glanced into the mirror before him. "Oh! she belongs in a frame on -the wall, but sometimes steps out and wanders about the church. She sings -at service. Call her up here if you can." - -Verheyden hastily took a seat at the organ, and, as the girl rose and -prepared to leave the church, a smooth strain sprang like a lasso from -under his fingers, and caught her. She went upstairs, and, standing by the -organist, sang Lambillot's _Quam Dilecta_. Her voice was not powerful, -but a pure soprano, clear and sweet, making up in earnestness what it -lacked in volume. She sang with exquisite finish, having taken the kernel -of science and thrown away the husk. Musical ornamentation was not with -Alice Rothsay vocal gymnastics, but seemed to grow upon the melody as -spontaneously as tendrils upon the vine. Verheyden laughed with delight -when, at the climax of the song, she touched the silver C in alt. - -What had been a little maiden in the distance was a small young woman when -near by. She was blonde; her oval face had the lustrous paleness of a -pearl; she looked as she sang, pure, sweet, and earnest. One knowing the -signs in faces would say that sharp tools must have wrought there to make -the eyelids and the mouth so steady. Strangers called her cold; but those -who had once seen her pale gray eyes grow luminous thought her fervid. - -Then began again Verheyden's life, growing richer everyday. Musical -_cognoscenti_ grew enthusiastic about him: he was a genius, they said, -no one before had so well interpreted the old masterpieces of song. Laurie -was charming; but Verheyden was inspiring. The Scottish laddie was sweet -and bright as one of his own dancing burns; but the German brought -reminiscences of torrents and avalanches, and lightnings tangled among the -mountain-tops. Laurie saw music as in a glass darkly, and strove to tell -them how she looked; but Verheyden grasped the goddess with compelling -fingers, and led her out before their eyes to dazzle them. His slight form -below the towering organ-pipes they compared to Samson between the pillars -of the temple of Gaza. - -Verheyden was extremely happy in his art: pleased, too, to feel the wreath -of fame settling on his brow with tingling touches; and when that August -day had slipped back three years, he was thirty years old. - -John Maynard, the machinist, drew into his mind various abortive notions -conceived by men who had lived, or who were still in the sun--drew them in -mistrustfully, and found them stray sparks of genius whose kindred dwelt -with him. Uniting, they played pranks on the man; they made his brain swell -and snap as they pushed open the portals of unsuspected chambers; they -sailed through his dreams in the trains of vast shadows, whose shapes he -panted to catch as they eluded him in the labyrinths of sleep; they grouped -and they scattered, forming here and there a salient or receding angle, -leaving voids to be filled; they got into his eyes till he forgot his -friends and to brush his hat; they salted his coffee and sugared his beef; -they took him on long rambles, where he would wake to find himself standing -stock-still, staring at nothing; they burned up questions and answers -before they could reach his lips, and they dislocated his sentences. They -wooed, and eluded, and tormented, and enraptured him, till, darting on them -unawares, he caught a shadow and copied it out on paper. Finally, fused -into one shape, it sprang from his brain, like Minerva from Jove's, armed -_cap-à-pie_. The machinist's invention was clad in iron, and stood -shining and winking in the unaccustomed sunshine for everybody to admire. - -{311} - -Which finishes the story of John Maynard's only love. - -Among the many visitors who flocked to see this wonderful invention came -one day Verheyden, Alice Rothsay, and her cousin Rose. - -They stood and watched smoothly slipping cylinders that coquetted with a -hand of gold from every gazing window, large wheels that turned -deliberately on their dizzy centres, and little families of cogged wheels -that made them feel cross-eyed--all the deceitful gentleness and guileful -glitter of the creature. - -Alice Rothsay stretched a venturesome pink finger-tip toward a lazily -rocking bar, then with a shiver, drew it back. "But I like to look at -machinery," she said; "it is so self-possessed. Besides, it is full of -curves, which are amiable as well as graceful. Parallels are unsocial, and -angles are disagreeable." - -"Parallels are faithful if not fond," remarked the machinist, "and straight -lines have an aim and arrive at places. They are the honest lines, the -working lines, the strong lines. The reasoner's thought goes like an arrow, -the dreamer's like smoke on a heavy day. I would rather see a cat pounce -upon a mouse than run round after her own tail." - -"But the spiral," she ventured. - -"Oh! that's the supernatural," said the machinist. - -"For my part," said Rose, "I don't see why the cat, after having caught her -mouse, should not amuse herself by running round after her own tail. It -keeps her out of the cream." - -Miss Rothsay turned to look at Verheyden, who was examining another part of -the machine. As she looked, he stretched his right hand to point a -question, and stretched it too far. The cruel teeth caught it, there was a -sharp breath that was not quite a cry. John Maynard sprang to stop the -machine, and in a moment Verheyden drew back, wild-eyed, but silent, -holding up a crushed and bleeding hand. - -"There is no pain," he said as Maynard knotted the handkerchief about his -arm. But he staggered while speaking, and the next moment fell. - -Miss Rothsay had news of him that evening. His hand had been amputated, and -he was wild. He wanted to tear the ligatures from his arm and bleed to -death, had to be restrained and drugged into quiet. Her messenger had left -him in a morphia-sleep, pale as the dead, and with only the faintest -breathing. - -Weeks passed, and the reports were scarcely more cheering. The patient had -to be watched lest be should do himself harm; and as he resented such -watching with savage impatience, his attendant's place was no sinecure. - -Indeed, Verheyden writhed in his circumstances as upon burning fagots. -Wrapped in his art as in an atmosphere, the wrench that tore his hand away -left him breathless. Music, the glory and the sweetness of his life, -floated back only just out of reach, tantalizing him with remembered and -almost possible bliss. Melodies brushed his lips and left a sting; chords -stretched broad, golden, electric, and, reaching to grasp them, he fell -into darkness. His passionate heart rose and swelled, and found no outlet, -but beat and broke against an impossibility, like the sea on its rocks. -Verheyden's occupation was gone. - -True, he could study phenomena. He was haunted by the ghost of a hand that -he could clench but could not see, that sometimes itched at the -finger-tips. It would seem that the nerves, confounded at being cut short -from their usual station, had not yet learned to send new messages, even -sent the old ones blunderingly, overdoing in their anxiety to do the best -they could. He had sometimes to recollect that this troublesome hand was -preserved in spirits in a glass jar set in Dr. Herne's laboratory, on a -shelf just behind his pet skeleton. - -{312} - -Verheyden read treatises on nerves till his own were no longer telegraphic -lines under control, but the wires of a rack to which he was bound. He -studied spiritualism till in dim night-watches the veil before the unseen -seemed to glide back. He dived into mesmerism till all the powers of his -mind centred in a will that glittered hard and bright in his eyes, causing -the timid to shrink and the pugilistic to make fists. - -But through all these noxious parasites of the tree of knowledge which he -recklessly gathered about him moaned ceaselessly his unforgotten -bereavement. Or, if he forgot for a moment, it was like drawing the knife -from a wound to drive it back again. - -Having exhausted every other distraction, he started one day for a long -walk in the country. He could not walk the city streets without meeting at -every step some piercing reminder of his loss. It was Scylla and Charybdis. -His fancy had caught a spark from everything beautiful in nature, and there -was not an outline nor motion, not a sound nor a tint, but found in him -some echo. Stately, swaying trees in his path waved the grave movement of -an Andante; the shrill little bird that slid down on a sunbeam through the -branches mimicked a twittering strain of Rossini's; a sigh of air that -rose, and swelled, and sank again, echoed a phrase of Beethoven; and an -unseen rivulet played one of Chopin's murmuring soliloquies. - -Verheyden trod savagely on yielding moss, and crackling twigs, and dry -leaves of last year, and on the bluest of blue violets that bloomed bathed -in the noon sunshine. He plunged into a by-path, and came to a brook that -fled as though pursued. It stumbled dizzily over shining pebbles, glided -with suspended breath around grassy curves; it was all a-tremble with -inextricably tangled sunshine and shadow; it gushed here and there into -sweet complaining; it leaped with white feet down the rocks. Verheyden -threw himself upon the bank beside it. He had played such dances, measures -that made the dancers giddy, and sent the ladies dazed and laughing to -their seats. - -"Does he think we are dervishes? Do take me into the air." - -Verheyden laughed; and the fingers in Dr. Herne's glass jar behind the -skeleton played a caprice as saucy as Puck plunging with headlong -somersaults and alighting on tiptoe. Then, with a groan, he recollected. - -As he crouched there, half wishing the water were deep enough to drown him, -be heard a low-voiced singing near by, and, taking a step presently, he saw -a picture among the pine shadows. Alice Rothsay, with a red rose in her -bosom, sat in the moss, and the green, thready grasses, looking fair as -Titania, her small figure showing smaller by the boles and branches of the -trees. She was hushing herself silent and smiling, her lucent eyes intent -on a humming-bird that wandered in the flickering shade and shine of the -woods. It foraged for a moment among the shrinking blossoms, the bold -little robber! it snapped at a round bright drop dashed up by the fretted -waters, and got a sip, half spray, half sunshine, that turned it clean -tipsy; then it made a dart at the red rose in Alice Rothsay's bosom, and -hung there, a little blue buzz with a long bill. The rose trembled over the -girl's suppressed laughter, and the winged mite flung itself petulantly -breast deep in the fragrant petals. Then it reeled away, scared at the -bound her heart gave; for, looking up, she saw Verheyden. It was the first -time they had met since his accident. - -"I dare not pity you," she said; "the hand of God shows too plainly." But -the moistened eyes, and the unsteadiness of her soft, loitering voice, -contradicted the words she spoke. - -He looked at her in a dazed, lost way, wondering who then might be -deserving of pity. - -"We miss you at church," she went on. "We have a different organist every -Sunday, and I am not used to their accompaniments. I broke down last -Sunday. -{313} -Mrs. Wilder played, and at the _sucipe_ that you always played -_legato_, she threw in half a dozen bars of explosives. The -'deprecationem' was fired off, every syllable of it, as from a mortar. I -jumped as if I'd been blown up. So few know how to accompany. It will be -better when Laurie comes. But we want to see you at church, Verheyden." - -His face lost its momentary gentleness. "I don't go to church now," he -said; "that is, to what we call church. I've been invoking 'black spirits -and white, blue spirits and gray'--all but the white. I've been calling -back the soul of Mesmer. I could tell stories that would frighten you." - -"Oh! no, you couldn't," she said. "'If armies in camp should stand together -against me, my heart shall not fear.' I might fear for you, though. I have -reason to fear for you when you give thought to such delusions." - -Verheyden began defending himself with the impatience of one who knows his -position to be weak, going over that hackneyed talk about progress and -freedom of thought. "Ah!" she sighed, "there are heights and heights; and -Babel is not Pisgah." - -The fragment of woods in which they had been walking belonged to the estate -of Monsieur Leon, at whose house Alice was visiting; and, as she saw the -two approaching, madame herself came out to meet them. An amiable, worldly -woman, a patroness of the arts, graceful, cordial, and full of charming -little enthusiasms. Not least among her aesthetic devotions was that to the -toilette, by the help of which she managed to appear forty instead or -sixty. - -She stepped to meet Verheyden with both her hands extended, tears swimming -in her fine dusky eyes. "My dear friend!" she said. "At last you remember -us. You are welcome. Where have you been all summer?" - -"Summer?" repeated Verheyden. "I haven't seen any summer." - -And truly the three months had for him been beautiful in vain. He had not -seen their glad, pelting showers, their dim, soft rains, nor the glory of -their sunshine, and their moonlights had been to him as spilt wine. - -He could not help being soothed by these friends. There was no obtrusive -sympathy, no condolence hard to answer to, no affected reserve concerning -his affliction. He was free to speak of it or not, as he should choose. -They went on with some trifling employment while they talked to him; or, if -silent, he felt their kindly, homelike presence. Then the large, cool house -was refreshing after the dust and heat of the city. - -Silence was sweetest in that sultry noon; and, presently perceiving it, -they did not speak. But the oaks outside rustled like oaks of Dodona, and -what had seemed silence grew to be fullest sound. There was a stir of -plants uneasy with growing, multitudinous tiny voices of insects in the -grasses, bee and bird and the murmur of waters, the wings of doves that -half flew, half dropped, in purple flocks from the eaves, the fall of an -over-ripe peach, the shrill cicala, the fond sighing of the brooding air in -whose bosom all these sounds nestled. - -Alice rose to lower the crimson curtain over an intrusive sunbeam, (madame -kept her crimson draperies up all summer, knowing that her complexion -needed deep, warm lights,) and out of revenge the brightness poured through -the tissue, its gold changed to a rosy fire. Pausing in that light to -listen, she stood aglow, her pale-brown hair, her clear eyes, her white -dress. - -"It is a Guido!" whispered Verheyden, with a flash of light across his -face. - -"No," said madame; "it is the Charity for which Ruskin longed, floating all -pink and beautiful down to earth, the clouds blushing as she passes." - -The sun went lingeringly down the west, a breeze fluttered up from the -south, and they roused themselves to open the windows. - -{314} - -A piano drew Verheyden by all his aching heart-strings. He seated himself -before it and played the base of Rossini's Cujus Animam. As he played, a -fair hand stole to the keys at his right and played the Aria. - -"It kills me! Alice, it kills me!" he moaned out, turning his haggard face -toward her. - -"Verheyden," she said, "do something heroic: submit!" - -"To writhe on the rack is not to resist," he said bitterly. - -"But how sublime," she urged, "if, instead of writhing, one could, in the -midst of pain, wear a serene face, and rejoice in a serene heart." - -"It is easy for you to talk of serenity," he said impatiently. "You have -all you want. You live in music as I lived in it. And what an enchanted -life we lived together! Do you remember the first time I saw you? Three -years ago, it was, on the eve of the Assumption. You sat on the steps of -the altar and listened while Laurie played. I told him you looked like a -soprano, and he said you were one, that you had a voice like a violin. Do -you remember how I called you up?" - -"Yes," she said, smiling at the remembrance. "No one ever accompanied like -you. The voice went floating on your music like a shallop on the water. -Your interludes were nothing more than spray or little wavelets, or like a -half-hushed bubbling laughter underneath the bows." - -"And you," he said, "you never learned: you sing of nature, and 'tis art -that tries to reach you. Laurie always said your _roulades_ were as if -you couldn't help them; that he had to look at the score to be sure you -didn't make them up as you went along. Come, now, let us try." - -In the act of turning eagerly to the piano, he recollected and stopped. - -She touched his arm with an earnest hand. "Delight is dear," she said; "but -never so dear as when we find it in dark places. Let me speak to you of -myself, Verheyden, as I have never spoken to anyone else. You think my life -has been a tranquil one, but you mistake. None, or but few, knowing, I have -gone through tragedies that would delight a romance writer. What I read is -dull to what I have experienced. If I am calm, it is because I have nothing -left to suffer. At twenty-five--you didn't think me so old because I am -small and blonde--at twenty five I have exhausted the pains of life. And, -Verheyden, believe me, contradictory as it may sound, the highest rapture -that earth can give is distilled from its sharpest pains. It is true, even -here, that those who weep are blessed. When the strong man, Jesus, rends -this ravenous nature of ours, after some days we find sweetness. O -Verheyden! go to the Lord with your burden, and he will give you rest. Do -not fill your soul with discord because your hand can no more awaken -harmony. That loftier harmony nothing can disturb without your consent. Is -it not beautiful to think of--the security of the soul? Remember, -Verheyden, the lightnings may strike us, but our souls shall not be -smitten; and they shall not be drowned though the waters cover us; the -earth may burn, but our souls shall not be consumed; and they shall not be -crushed though the heavens fall on us. When I think of these things, I -laugh at fear of anything save sin; I am lifted; my body seems dissolving -like frost in fire. I cannot comprehend the sadness of your face. I am -glad! I am glad!" - -He looked at her as she stood there pale and shining, then stretched his -hand, and, at a venture, touched the scarf she wore. It didn't scorch him. - -Monsieur Léon came home at sunset, and with him Auguste, the son of the -house. Monsieur was one of his wife's enthusiasms. "He is a misanthrope," -she would say delightedly. "What a listless air! he cares for nothing. How -mournful and hopeless his eyes! And though his hair is white, he is but -little over fifty. He is full of poetry and sublimity and learning; but it -is frozen in. His early days were unfortunate--a poor gentleman, you -know--and all his life till he was forty was a struggle for bread. -{315} -At forty be inherited his property. Then he thought to live, my poor -Auguste! We went to Paris, which we had left as children. Ah! well. But he -had aspirations, and pressed on toward Italy. There was the Medean -chaldron, he said. He was ill when we reached there, and saw nothing till -one evening he was convalescent, and I took him by the hand and led him out -on to our balcony. It was a May-moonlight in Venice. The earth can do -nothing more. He stood and looked till I thought he had lost his breath, -then clasped his hands over his heart as though he had a great pang, and -cried out, 'O my lost youth!' He would look no more. He went in and sat -with his face hidden in his hands. It was too late. The next day we started -and came back. He looked at nothing as we passed, but sat in the gondola or -carriage with his face hidden. He said it was like setting a feast before -the corpse of a man who had died of starvation. So romantic!" sighs madame, -smoothing the lace ruffles from her little hands. - -Presently, when evening deepened, Auguste put his head in at the window and -called them out to see an eclipse of Venus. - -They stood in the dewy dusk and fragrance of the garden, and watched the -star hover, moth-like, near and nearer to the moon, seeming to grow larger -and more brilliant as it approached extinction, shining in audacious -beauty. Then it touched, trembled, and disappeared. - -"Served her right!" cried Auguste, fresh from the classics. - -"But, Alice, where is Verheyden?" asked madame. - -"He recollected Laurie's concert, and would go. I tried to detain him, but -could not." - -Verheyden hurried into town to the concert-hall, though by no means certain -he might not be tempted to fling himself over the balcony. Avoiding -acquaintances, he took a seat high up and apart, and looked down upon the -audience. Such crowds had flocked to hear him in that lost life of his. Was -it indeed lost, or did he dream? - -Presently there was music. There came his fugues rolling in like -overlapping billows. How he had played them when his mood had been to -plunge in such a surge, he solitary, everything else washed away like -sea-weed! He would never breast that tide again! Symphonies sailed over his -head; but he could no more reach to touch their pinions. There was one he -had named St. Michael's, from a sharp brightness that swung through it, -sword-like. How he had wrestled with those angels! - -Then Laurie, being loudly called, stood out, blushing before their praises. - -Bless the boy! Only that day, bursting into tears, he had clasped Verheyden -around the neck, saying: "Dear friend, my success hurts me like failure -when I think of you." - -To an encore he played "Comin' through the Rye," improvising variations in -which the lovely melody hovered like Undine in the fountain, half veiled in -that spray of music: an arch, enchanting thing. - -As Laurie stood up again, his friend leaned over the balcony and looked -down on the young, lifted brow. For one instant their eyes met; then -Verheyden started up and fled out into the night. - -Father Vinton sat alone in his room meditating on a text which was -gradually expanding, budding, and blossoming into a sermon. He tried not to -be vexed when some one knocked at his door at that late hour, and was just -controlling his voice to give a charitable summons when the door opened, -and Verheyden, or his ghost, came in, and, without a word of greeting, fell -on his knees beside the priest, dropping his face to the arm of the chair. - -"My poor friend," said the father, "have you not yet forgiven God for -loving you better than you can understand?" - -{316} - -Verheyden shivered, but said nothing. - -"Remember whose hands were pierced, not one, but both, and his feet, and -his side. He never shrank." - -Verheyden's shaking hand held out a little vial "I shall take this unless -you prevent me," he said. "Help me if there is any help. I dare not be -alone." - -Father Vinton unstopped the vial, and, taking deliberate aim, flung it -through the open window into the street. Then he laid his hand tenderly -upon the bowed head. "You shall not be alone," he said. "Stay here -to-night." - -Blessed are all peace-makers; but thrice blessed are those who make peace -between the soul and God. Blessed are they in whose care we breathe the -tales else unspoken, whose hands lead us back from the brink of many a -precipice where no one dreamed we stood, whose voices soothe the pains -hidden to all besides, and inspire with hope hearts that were filled with -despair. May such peace-makers be for ever blessed! - -Verheyden's religion had been a recollection rather than a remembrance. He -had made a point of going to confession and communion once a year; and had -one looked into his mind while he was preparing for these sacraments, -something like the following might have been seen: "Well, what have I been -doing this year? I haven't committed any sins. I've done nothing but play -tunes. To be sure, I broke Smith's fiddle over his head for playing false -and spoiling a chorus. Don't suppose that was just right; though I must say -I think the chorus of more consequence than Smith's head. But I must have -done something. I'm not a saint yet. Guess I'll say a prayer. - -"Oh! I remember!--; that was mean. I wouldn't believe I could do such a -thing if I didn't know I had. I'll be hanged if I do it again. Then -there's--, and--, and--. Well, confession does put a fellow out of conceit -with himself. And there's--; a dishonest deed, I must own. I don't wonder -the Lord gets angry with us; and how he does wait for us to come round! I'm -glad I didn't drop dead to-day. I'm thankful I didn't drop dead to-day! The -Lord is good. What am I lounging on a seat for? Why don't I go on my knees? -Then there's ----. I'm sorry for that. I wish somebody would give me a -thrashing for it. I've been sorry for the same sin dozens of times, and -accused myself of it, and promised not to commit it again. My resolutions -are not worth much. Suppose I can't keep myself out of sin without the -Lord's help. I'll ask for it." - -At the end, Verheyden, sobered and humbled, would present himself to the -priest and make a clear and sincere confession. - -But now religion was to be no more an incident, but the business of his -life. He was fortunate in his director, for Father Vinton was not only -prudent, but sympathetic. If, when he read lives of the saints, Verheyden -longed for ecstasies which should thrill him as sensibly as music could, -the father did not reprove his presumption, but said: "My son, such favors -do not come when they are looked and asked for, they are unexpected. Strive -to render yourself worthy of God's friendship, and forget the reward till -he shall please to bestow it." If, kneeling before the altar, his eyes full -of tears, the intensity of his gaze defeating itself, Verheyden fancied -that the cross before him quivered with its burden, and that the aureoled -head grew to be the head of a living, suffering man whose eyes turned -pitifully on him--the father did not call his penitent crazy. - -"Perhaps he grieves to find you so unreconciled," he said. "When with a -loving violence he tore the idol from your grasp in order to give you a -work wherein the end would not be forgotten in the means, he expected your -submission. Perhaps he grieves to see that you reject all work." - -{317} - -Verheyden blushed painfully as he extended his mutilated arm. "What can -_I_ do?" - -"Take charge of your singing-class again." - -For one instant he faced the priest with a sudden fierceness, the last -spark of rebellion in him. Then his face faded and drooped. - -"I will, sir." - -"Miss Rothsay will play for you when you need her." - -"Yes, father." - -And Verheyden went back to the drudgery of his profession, missing its -delights, and did his duty faithfully if not cheerfully. There could have -been no severer test. - -There was no more talk of visions and trances. But every morning a shadow -of a man stole into the chapel, knelt near the door, and went out as -quietly after the mass was over. Once a fortnight the same shadow came to -Father Vinton's side and made a sincere but disheartening confession. The -spring of the musician's spirit was broken. - -"You are ill," the priest said to him one day. - -"No," answered Verheyden dreamily. "My heart troubles me a little. It beats -too fast. There's nothing else the matter with me." - -He was told that he ought to consult a doctor. - -"I thought I would," was the answer; "but I forgot it. What is in the -church?" - -"Laurie with the choir practising a new mass. To-morrow is the Assumption, -you know." - -"Oh! yes, I'll go in and listen awhile; shall I?" - -"My poor boy!" said the priest. "Will it not give you more pain than -pleasure?" - -"No, father, it doesn't hurt me now." - -Going into the choir, Verheyden took a seat apart and unseen. He leaned -wearily, closed his eyes and listened, hearing the voices more than the -instrument, hearing one voice through all. When Alice Rothsay uplifted her -pure voice and sang the _Dona nobis pacem_, tears dropped slowly down -his face; but they were not tears of bitterness. - -Presently all but Alice left the church. As on that day, four years before, -when he had first seen her, she had flowers for the altars. - -It was a delight for her to get into the church alone, as she now believed -herself to be. If she were good, she knew not. No matter: God is good. She -felt as though she were among dear friends with nobody by to criticise, Her -delight bubbled up almost over the verge of reverence. But perfect love -casteth away fear; and she loved. - -"Rosa Mystica, here are roses. Pray for me. And lilies for St. Joseph, whom -I often forget. He is so near you he is lost, like the morning-star in the -morning. St. Paul, I bring you fine plumes, and cardinal flowers like -living coals. But you look as though you would scorch them up with a push -from the point of your pen, writing epistles toward the four winds. O -Unseen One! what shall I offer you? The earth is yours, and the fulness -thereof. I cannot offer myself, for I am not mine to give. But if you love -me, take me. O Sweetness!" - -Sunset flashed through the windows, and every saint caught an aureola. Then -the day went out, bright and loth. When the sanctuary lamp began to show -its flame in the gathering twilight, Alice Rothsay rose with a happy heart, -and went home. - -Verheyden was happy, too; he scarce knew why, perhaps because the happiness -of another made his own seem possible. He groped his way down to the -chapel, and found Father Vinton hearing confessions. - -"God is with him," thought the priest when Verheyden had left him. "He is -like a child." - -The same child-like sweetness shone in the face raised the next morning for -communion. - -{318} - -Going out of the chapel after his thanksgiving, Father Vinton saw his -penitent still kneeling there. "I wished I had asked him to pray for me," -he said. "I must see him when he comes out." - -He waited half an hour, watching, but no one appeared. The father would not -for anything disturb so sacred a devotion; but he felt like looking again. -Going back: to the chapel, he saw the lonely worshipper still in place, but -in a slightly changed attitude. He was leaning a little wearily on the desk -before him, and his shoulder and head rested against a pillar beside. His -pale face was lifted, as though some one above had spoken, and he had -looked up to answer. - -Father Vinton hesitated, then went nearer. A morning sunbeam came in -through an eastern window, stole in tender, tremulous gold over the -musician's hair and brow, and looked into his eyes. So Magdalene might have -looked into the sepulchre. The father bent and looked also. - -Ah, Verheyden! Some One above _had_ spoken, and he had answered. - - ------- - - Original. - - May: A Fancy. - - - I cannot sing to thee a song, O May! - New-born of beauties never sung before. - On all the tourneyed fields of poesy - Bright souls have broken lance to do thee honor. - And yet (so hard it is for youth and life - To deem to-day not brighter than the past) - I cannot think they loved thee more than I, - Those silent poets in their silent graves. - I cannot think their sunshine was as golden, - Their meads as green, their wilding flowers as rife - With the low music of the laden bee, - Their clouds as soft upon the summering sky, - Their gales as wooing in the wakened forests-- - Their May as much of May as thou to us. - Moreover, this I know: the tiny bark - Of the frail nautilus may crest the wave - That swelled to clasp the bosomed argosy, - Or chafed the warrior-ship's embattled side. - And so, beneath thy deep serenity - Of sunlit blue, as, thrilled and filled with May, - I lie on earth and gaze up into heaven, - Sprite Fancy doth embody me a dream; - And I dare utter it, for I am bold - On kindly Nature's mother-breast to lay - My head, and prattle of the love I bear her. - As little, earnest children deck them dolls, - And name them for the fair ones whom they love, - I prank an image out, and call it--May. - -{319} - - Thou shin'st, O May! upon my visioned hours, - A maiden in the prime of maidenhood, - Poised on the summer boundary of blooms, - Disparting child and woman; blent of each; - The child-smile pure upon the perfect lip, - And girlhood in the wavy wealth of curls - So lavish on the toying, amorous air, - And deep'ning in the blue uplifted eyes, - Like stainless heaven reflect from silent lakes, - The mystic, dawning holiness of woman. - - She, o'er the cycled earth imperious, - Throned on the morning candor of the clouds, - Sits haloed with the worship of the sun. - Chosen is she of all her sister months - To be the bride of the imperial sun. - Disdainful suitor, he did pass unwooed - The paly elder beauties of the year, - Nor in the hoyden March, nor sportive April, - Nor majesty of June, his pleasure found: - He toyed familiar, yet scarce lovingly, - With the swart, sparkling nymphs of summer tide, - He schooled the autumn oreads in their tasks, - And, smiling, passed, and left them all, to shower - The splendid unrestraint of all his love, - And choice, and tenderness on May, his own. - - This is the bridal season, and the earth, - Fondest of mothers, and the ardent bridegroom - Have ta'en all gems of earth, all rays of heaven, - Have beggared all the universe for charms - To deck the bride withal. She sits in beauty, - Crowned with the rarest radiance of morn, - Robed in the tissued blooms of all the world, - Yet loveliest for her own proud modesty; - Her glorious eyes the fairest of her jewels, - Her bridal blush her brightest ornament. - Thus maidenly, thus queenly in the skies - She waits against the coming of the bridegroom. - He, o'er the orient wave now eminent, - Through the concoursing rosy clouds of morn - Strides like a monarch 'mid a courtier throng, - Pushing soft adulation out of way; - Presses in grandeur up the noon-day height, - Half haste, all stateliness and majesty. - - And over all the vastness of the world - Goes forth the tale of bliss. The roseate clouds - Blush down the tidings to the raptured sea, - Till all his crested waves are musical - With murmured joyfulness. The courier birds - Thrill myriad melodies through all the woods, - With this their joyous burden: "May is bride!" - The hoary oaks, and all the ancient trees, - On the high, rippling winds commune together, - Saying one to another: "May is bride!" - -{320} - - And from her throne float forth cloud-messengers, - The white-winged spirits of the unborn rain: - They stoop and whisper to the dreaming flowers - Bidding their choicest petals venture out; - Then die to sight amid the morning shine, - As sudden angels, their high missions done, - Rapt from our days, resume their viewless shapes. - But the fair blossoms wake and look about them, - And find all May, and all things lapped in sunshine, - And softly call their kindred to arise, - Till every turf in all the happy fields - Is garish with their bloom, and atmospheres - Of perfume waft their homage to the seat - Of their dear sovereign. And the loving earth, - The great, dumb mother of the happy May, - With all her waving continents of trees, - Makes murmurous gestures full of ecstasy; - And up from land, and sea, and air, and sky, - Rise choral hallelujahs: "May is bride!" - ------- - - Impressions of Spain. - - by Lady Herbert. - - Cordova and Malaga. - -A comfortable little old-fashioned inn, with a "patio" full of -orange-trees, leading to a public "sala," rather like a room at Damascus, -with alcoves and fountains, gladdened the hearts of our wearied travellers. -After a good night's rest (and one advantage in Spain is, that except -mosquitoes, your beds are generally free from other inhabitants), they -started down the narrow, badly paved streets to visit the cathedral. The -exterior is disappointing, as all you see is a buttressed wall, with square -towers sixty feet high, opposite which is the gateway and wall of the -archepiscopal palace. But on passing through a beautiful oriental court, in -the centre of which is a picturesque Moorish fountain, the rest of the -space being filled with orange-trees and palms, and on the north side an -exquisite giralda, or tower, from whence there is a beautiful view over the -whole town and neighborhood. All the entrances to the mosque (now the -cathedral) from this court are closed, except the centre one. Entering by -that, a whole forest of pillars bursts upon you, with horseshoe arches -interlacing one another and forming altogether the most wonderful building -in the world. The Moors collected these pillars, of which there are upwards -of a thousand, from the temples of Carthage, of Nismes, and of Rome, and -adapted them to their mosque. Some are of jasper, some of verde-antique, -some of porphyry--no two are alike. The pillars have no plinths, and divide -the mosque into nineteen longitudinal and twenty-nine transverse aisles; -hence the immense variety and beauty of the intersection of the arches. -This mosque was built in the eighth century, and ranked in sanctity with -the "Alaksa" of Jerusalem and the "Caaba" of Mecca. - -{321} - -A pilgrimage to it was, indeed, considered equivalent to that of Mecca, and -hence the Spanish proverb to express distant wanderings, "Andar de zeca en -Meca." The roof is of arbor-vitae, and is in perfect preservation. Two of -the moresque chapels are exquisite in carving and richness of detail, one -being that of the Caliphs, and the other the "Holy of Holies," where the -Koran was kept. The beauty and delicacy of the moresque work, with its gold -enamel and lovely trefoiled patterns, its quaint lions and bright-colored -"azulejos" (tiles), exceeds anything of the sort in Europe. The roof is in -the form of a shell, and exquisitely wrought out of one single piece of -marble. The mosaic border was sent to Cordova by Romanus II., from -Constantinople. When the brother of the king of Morocco came there a year -or two ago, he went round this "Holy of Holies" seven times on his knees, -crying bitterly all the time. The inscriptions in this mosque are in Cufic, -and not in Arabic. The whole carries one back to Damascus and the East in a -way which makes it difficult to realize that one is still in Europe. The -choir is a horrible modern "churriqueresque" innovation, stuck in the -centre of the beautiful forest of Saracenic columns, many of which were -destroyed to make room for it. Even Charles V. protested against the bad -taste of the chapter when he saw it completed in 1526, and exclaimed: "You -have built a thing which one can see anywhere; and to do so, you have -destroyed what was unique in the world." The carving of the choir is -certainly fine, but the incongruity of the whole jars on one's taste too -keenly for any kind of admiration. The only beautiful and solemn modernized -portion of the building is the chapel of the cardinal, with fine tombs and -a deep recess for the Blessed Sacrament, with a magnificent silver -tabernacle. From the cathedral, some of the party went to visit the bishop, -who received them very kindly, and sent his secretary to show them the -treasures of the cathedral. The "custodia," of the fifteenth century, is in -silver-gilt, with beautiful emeralds, and exquisitely carved; it is the -work of Arphe, the Benvenuto Cellini of Spain. There are also some -beautiful processional crosses, reliquaries, chalices, and pax, secreted at -the time of Dupont's French invasion, and so saved from the universal -plunder. - -Having spent the morning in the cathedral, our travellers wandered down to -the fine Roman bridge, of sixteen arches, over the Guadalquiver, looking -upon some picturesque Moorish mills and orange gardens. To the left is a -statue of St. Raphael, the guardian angel of Cordova; and close by is the -Alcazar, now a ruin, formerly the palace of Roderick, the last of the -Goths, whose father was duke of Cordova. Nothing can be more melancholy -than the neglected gardens, the broken fountains and statues, the empty -fish-ponds, and grass-grown walks, despite the palms and orange-trees and -luxuriant creeping roses, which seemed to be striving to conceal the -desolation around. The first palm ever planted in Cordova was by the -Moorish king Abdulrrahman, who brought it from his much-loved and -always-regretted Damascus. - -After luncheon, having obtained special permission from the archbishop, our -party started off in two carriages for the hermitages in the Sierra Morena, -stopping first at a picturesque ruined villa, called the "Arrizafa," once -the favorite residence of the Moorish king. The gardens are beautiful; -passion-flowers and jessamine hung in festoons over all the broken walls, -and the ground was carpeted with violets, narcissus, and other spring -flowers. The view from the terrace is lovely, the town, when seen from a -distance, being very like Verona. Here the road became so steep that the -party had to leave their carriages and walk the remainder of the way. -{322} -The mountain-path reminded them of Mount Carmel, with the same underwood of -cistus, lilac and white, and heaps of flowering and aromatic shrubs. -Beautiful wild iris grew among the rocks, and half-way up a rushing stream -tumbled over the boulder-stones into a picturesque basin, covered with -maiden-hair fern, which served as a resting-place for the tired travellers. -After a fatiguing climb of two hours, they reached the postern gate of the -hermitage, into which, after some demur as to their sex, the ladies, by -special permission of the archbishop, were admitted. There are at present -seventeen hermits, all gentlemen, and many of high birth and large fortune, -living each in a little separate cabin, with a patch of garden round it, -and entirely alone. They never see one another but at mass and in choir, or -speak but once a month. In their chapel they have a beautiful oil painting -of St. Paul the first hermit, whose rule they follow in all its primitive -severity. One of the cabins was vacant, and the party entered. It was -composed of two tiny rooms: in the inner one was a bed formed of three -boards, with a sheepskin and a pillow of straw; the rest of the furniture -consisted of a crucifix, a jug of water, a terrible discipline with iron -points, and Rodriguez' essay on "Christian Perfection," published in 1606, -at Valladolid, and evidently much read. This cell was that of Count ----, a -man of great wealth and high rank, and of a still wider reputation for -ability and talent. He had lost his wife some years ago, to whom he was -passionately attached; and remaining in the world only till he had settled -his children, then took leave of it for ever, and resolved to spend the -rest of his days in penitence and prayer. Their habit is composed of a -course grey stuff, with a leathern girdle, drawers, and a shirt of serge. -No linen is allowed, or stockings, and they wear sandals on their feet. -They are not permitted to possess anything, or to keep anything in their -cells but a glazed earthenware pot, a wooden plate, a pitcher, a lamp, and -instruments of penance and devotion. They keep a perpetual fast on beans -and lentils, only on high days and holidays being allowed fish. They are -not allowed to write or receive letters, or to go into one another's cells, -or to go out of the enclosure, except once a month, when they may walk in -the mountains round, which they generally do together, reciting litanies. -Seven hours of each day must be given to prayer, and they take the -discipline twice a week. [Footnote 109] How strange a life for one -accustomed to live in the world and in society! Yet there is no lack of -candidates for each vacancy; and the prior told our travellers that the -number of vocations of late years had increased. There is a fine old marble -seat and cross in the garden, erected by the late bishop, from whence there -is a magnificent view over the whole country. The cold in winter is -intense, and they are not allowed any fires, except what is absolutely -necessary for the cooking of their miserable meal. Taking leave of the -prior in his little "parloir," and receiving a rosary from him made of the -wood of the "carouba" by the hermits themselves, the visitors retraced -their steps down the hill, feeling as if they had been spending the last -couple of hours in another world; and, rejoining their carriages at the -villa, made the circuit of the city walls, which are partly Moorish, built -of tapia, and described by Julius Caesar. - - [Transcriber's note: The image of the following footnote is blurred. - "Pardon my French."] - - [Footnote 109: The Rev. Père Félix, the famous Paris preacher, in one - of his Notre Dame conferences, speaking of asceticism of this sort, - says: "Les paiens avaient épuisé la volupté: les chrétiens ont épuisé - les souffrances. De ce creuset de la douleur l'homme nouveau a sorti, - et c'est un homme plus grand que l'homme ancien. Ah! je le sais, la - pénitence corporelle, le jeûne, l'abstinence, la discipline, la - flagelation, prètent à rire à des penseurs de ce temps, qui se croieat - trop sages pour pratiquer de telles folies. Ils out plus d'égurd pour - la chair, plus de respect surtoui pour le corps, et ils disent en - souriant à l'austérité chrétienne: 'Ascétisme! Moyen àge! Fanatisme! - Démence!' La vérité est, que chátier volontairement son corps pour - venger la dignité de l'homme outragés par les révoltes, est une sainte - et sublime chose. La vérité est que pour accorder à son corps le - plaiair, il suffit d'ètre lâche, et que pour infliger à son corps la - douleur volontaire dans un but de restauration morale, il faut ètre - courageux, il faut ètre veaiment grand. La vérité est enfin que cette - race de mortifiés, mieux que tout autre, maintient à sa vraie hauteur - le niveau de l'humanité, et tient dans sa main intrépide, avec le fouet - dont elle se frappe ell-même, le drapeau du progrès. Le chemin du - progrès, comme ceiul du Calvaire, est un chemin douloureax. Le drapeau - de l'austérité chrétienne triomphera une fois de plus dans le monde du - seusualisme paien de nos joura."] - -{323} - -Then one of the party went to see the Carmelite convent of St. Theresa; not -one of the saint's own foundation, but one built soon after her death. It -contains twenty-four nuns, the cheeriest and merriest of women, proving how -little external circumstances contribute to personal cheerfulness. - -The German gentleman who had so kindly served as escort to our travellers -during their stay at Cordova dined with them in the evening, and gave them -several very interesting details of the place and people. The next morning -mass had been promised them at five, but it was six before the priest made -his appearance in the fine old Jesuit church, now bereft of its pastors and -frequent services; and it was only thanks to the unpunctuality of the -Spanish railways that the train which was to convey our party to Malaga was -reached in time. - -Passing through a very fine gorge of the Sierra Nevada, with magnificent -Alpine scenery, the train suddenly stopped: the guard came to the -carriages, and civilly suggested to the passengers that the government -could not answer for the safety of the tunnels, and, therefore, had -provided carriages and mules to take them round; or else, if they preferred -it, that they might _walk_, as there would be plenty of time. This -sounded ludicrous enough to English ears, but, after all, they thought it -more prudent to comply than to run any risk, and accordingly bundled out -with their bags and manifold packages. On the recurrence of a similar -warning, however, a little later, they voted that they would remain and -take their chance; and nothing disastrous occurred. At the station they -were met by the kind and obliging English consul, who had ordered rooms for -them at the hotel called the "Alameda," pleasantly situated on the -promenade, and who had done everything in his power to insure their -comfort. The first days of their arrival were spent in settling themselves -in their new quarters, which required a good deal of preliminary cleaning, -and in seeing the so-called "lions" of the place. These are soon visited. -In truth, except for climate, Malaga is as dull and uninteresting a place -as can be well imagined. There is a cathedral, originally a mosque, but now -converted into an ugly Corinthian pile with two towers. Only one fine old -Gothic door remains, with curious "azulejos." The rest, both inside and -out, is modern, heavy, and in bad taste. The high altar, however, is by -Alonso Caño; and there is some fine wood-carving of the sixteenth century -in the choir and on the screen, commemorating different scenes in the life -of St. Turibius, archbishop of Lima, whose apostolic labors among the -Indians were crowned with such wonderful success. There are one or two good -pictures and monuments, especially the recumbent figure of a bishop, in -bronze, of the fifteenth century. In the sacristy is a valuable relic of -St. Sebastian, and some fine silver vases for the holy oils; but everything -else was plundered by the French. Afterward our travellers went, with an -order from the governor, to see the castle and Moorish fortress overlooking -the town, built in 1279. Passing under a fine Moorish horse-shoe arched -gateway, they scrambled up to the keep, from whence there is a magnificent -view over sea and land. It is now used as a military prison, and about -twenty-six men were confined there. The officers were extremely civil, and -showed them everything. The men's barracks seemed clean and comfortable, -and their rations good; their arms and knapsacks were, however, of the most -old-fashioned kind. That day a detachment of troops were starting for -Morocco, whose embarkation in the steamers below was eagerly watched by the -garrison. - -But if Malaga be dull in the way of sights, it is very pleasant from the -kind and sociable character of its inhabitants. Nowhere will the stranger -find more genuine kindness, hospitality, or courtesy. -{324} -Their houses, their villas, their horses, their flowers, their time, all -are placed, not figuratively, but really, "á vuestra disposicion." Some of -the villas in the neighborhood are lovely, especially those of Madame de -H----, the Marquise L----, etc. Here one finds all kinds of tropical -vegetation: the date palm, the banana, the plantain and India-rubber trees, -sugar, cotton, and other oriental products, all grow luxuriantly; while the -beds are filled with masses of violets, tulips, roses, arums, scarlet -hybiscus, and geraniums; and beautiful jessamine, _scarlet_ -passion-flowers, and other creepers, trail over every wall. - -But the chief interest to the winter resident at Malaga will be derived -from its charitable institutions. The French sisters of charity of St. -Vincent de Paul have the care of three large establishments here. One--an -industrial school for the children and orphans connected with a neighboring -factory--is a marvel of beauty, order, and good management. The girls are -taught every kind of industrial work; a Belgian has been imported to give -them instruction in making Valenciennes lace, and their needlework is the -most beautiful to be seen out of Paris. Any profit arising from their work -is sold, and kept for their "dot" when they marry or leave the -establishment. Attached to this school is also a little home for widows, -incurables, and sick, equally tended by the sisters. This admirable -institution is the offspring of individual charity and of a life -wrecked--according to human parlance--but which has taken heart again for -the sake of the widow and the orphan, the sorrowful and the suffering. Her -name is a household word in Malaga to the sad and the miserable; and in -order to carry out her magnificent charities (for she has also an -industrial school for boys in the country), she has given up her luxurious -home, and lives in a small lodging up three pair of stairs. She reminded -one of St. Jerome's description of St. Melania, who, having lost her -husband and two children in one day, casting herself at the foot of the -cross, exclaimed: "I see, my God! that thou requirest of me my whole heart -and love, which was too much fixed on my husband and children. With joy I -resign all to thee." The sight of her wonderful cheerfulness and courage, -after sorrows so unparalleled, must strengthen every one to follow in her -steps, and strive to learn, in self-abnegation, her secret of true -happiness. The French sisters have likewise the charge of the great -hospital of St. Juan de Dios, containing between 400 and 500 patients, now -about to be removed to a new and more commodious building; and also of a -large day and infant school near the river, with a "salle d'asile," -containing upward of 500 children, who are daily fed with soup and bread. -They also visit the poor and sick in their homes, and everywhere their -steps are hailed with thankfulness and joy. - -The "Little Sisters of the Poor" have likewise established themselves in -Malaga, and have a large house, containing seventy old and incurable -people, which is very well supplied by the richer inhabitants. The nuns of -the "Assumption" have lately started a "pension" for the daughters of the -upper classes, which was immensely wanted (education being at a very low -ebb in Spain), and which has been most joyfully hailed by the Malaga ladies -for their children. The superior, a charming person, is an English woman; -and the frequent benediction services in their beautiful little chapel were -a great boon to some of our party. They paid a visit also to the -archbishop, a kind and venerable old man, with the most benevolent smile -and aspect, and who is really looked upon as the father of his people. At a -grand Te Deum service, given in the church of S. Pietro dei Martiri, one of -the most interesting churches in Malaga, as a thanksgiving for the -preservation of the city from cholera, he officiated pontifically, which -his great age generally prevents, and gave the benediction with mitre and -crosier to the devout and kneeling multitude. - -{325} - -There is a very touching "Via Crucis" service performed every Friday in -Malaga, up to a chapel on the top of a high mountain overlooking the whole -town and bay. The peasants chaunt the most plaintive and beautiful hymns, -the words of which they "improviser" on the way, both up and down. It -begins at a very beautiful church and convent called Notre Dame des -Victoires, now converted into a military hospital, nursed by the Spanish -sisters of charity. The family of the Alcazars is buried in the crypt of -this church, and beautiful palms grow in the convent garden. In the old -refectory are some fine azulejos tiles and some good specimens of Raphael -ware. - -As to diversions, Malaga offers but few resources. Those who like boating -may go out daily along the beautiful coast; but the rides are few, the -ground hard and dusty, and the "rivière à sec," like that at Nice, must be -traversed before any mountain expeditions could be reached. There is a -bull-ring, as in every Spanish town, and occasionally the additional -excitement of elephants being used in the fights: but the bulls will rarely -face them. - -After about a month, therefore, spent in this quiet little place, it was -decided to start for Granada, which promised to afford greater interest and -variety. - - - Granada. - -Taking leave rather sorrowfully of their many kind friends, and of the -sisters of charity who had been their constant companions during their stay -in Malaga, our travellers started one stormy evening, and found themselves -once more cooped up in one of those terrible diligences, and slowly -ascending the mountains at the back of the town. Their intention had been -to go on horseback, riding by Velez-Malaga and the baths of Alhama; but the -late heavy rains had converted the mountain streams into torrents, and some -of the party who attempted it were compelled to return. After ascending for -about three hours, leaving on their left the picturesque cemetery, with its -fine cypresses, they came to a plateau 3000 feet above the sea, from whence -they had a magnificent view, the whole of Malaga and its bay being -stretched out at their feet, the lights glistening in the town, and the -moon, breaking through the clouds, shedding a soft light over the sea-line, -which was covered with tiny fishing-vessels. Beautiful aloes and cacti -starting out of the bold rocks on either side formed the foreground, while -a rapid river rushed and tumbled in the gorge below. But with this fine -panoramic view the enjoyment of our travellers came to an end. When night -came on, and they had reached the highest and loneliest part of the bleak -sierra, it began to pour with rain and blow a regular gale; the heavy mud -was dashed into their faces; the icy cold wind whistled through the broken -panes and under the floor of the carriage, and froze them to the bone. -There was some difficulty about a relay of mules at the next stage, and so -our party were left on an exposed part of the road without drivers or -beasts for more than an hour. Altogether, it was impossible to conceive a -more disagreeable journey; and it was therefore with intense joy that they -found themselves, after sixteen hours of imprisonment, at last released, -and once more able to stretch their legs in the _Alameda_ of Granada. -Tired, hungry, dirty, and cold, a fresh disappointment here awaited them. -All the hotels were full (their letters ordering rooms had miscarried), and -only one tiny bedroom could be found in which they could take refuge, and -scrape the mud off their clothes and hair. One of the party found her way -to the cathedral; the rest held a council of war, and finally determined to -try their fate at the new "Alhambra" hotel outside the town, where an -apartment was to be had, the cold and wet of the season having deterred the -usual visitors to this purely summer residence. -{326} -They had every reason to congratulate themselves on this decision; for -though the cold was certainly great, the snow hanging still on all the -hills around, and the house being unprovided with any kind of fire-places -or stoves, still the cleanliness and comfort of the whole amply compensated -for these drawbacks, to say nothing of the immense advantage of being close -to the Alhambra, that great object of attraction to every traveller who -visits Granada. The way up to it is very picturesque, but very steep. After -leaving the wretched, narrow, ill-paved streets, which dislocate almost -every bone in your body when attempted on wheels, and passing by the Sala -de la Audiencia and other fine public buildings, you arrive at an arched -gateway, which at once brings you into a kind of public garden, planted -with fine English elms, and abounding in walks and fountains and seats, and -in which the paths and drives, in spite of their precipitous character, are -carefully and beautifully kept by convict labor, under the superintendence -of a body of park-keepers dressed in full Andalusian costume. The hotel is -placed on the very crest of the hill, overlooking the magnificent range of -snowy mountains to the right. To the left the first thing which strikes the -eye is the Torre de Justicia. Over the outer horse-shoe arch is carved an -open hand, upon the meaning of which the learned are divided; some saying -it is an emblem of the power of God, others a talisman against the Evil -Eye. Over the inner arch is sculptured a key, which typified the power of -the Prophet over the gates of heaven and hell. A double gate protects this -entrance, which no donkey may pass: in the recess is a very beautiful -little picture, framed and glazed, of the Virgin and Child. Passing through -this arch, you come to an open "plaza," out of which rise two towers; one -has been bought by an Englishman, who has converted the lower part of it -into his private residence. (Where shall we not find our ubiquitous -country-men?) [Footnote 110] - - [Footnote 110: This unexpected rencontre reminded one of our party of a - similar surprise, some years ago, in the mountains of the Tyrol. She - was riding with her husband, when they came on a very picturesque old - "Schloss," in an out-of-the-way gorge of a mountain pass. Stopping to - look at it, and pushing open a half-open door in what appeared to be - only habitable part of the ruling, they came on a group of chubby-faced - English children, sitting around a table in their white pinafores, - eating an undeniably English tea; and were told by the nurse, in answer - to their inquiries, that the present owner of this Austrian Schloss was - a London tradesman, who brought his children over every year to spend - the summer--a most sensible arrangement, as the healthy bright looks of - his little ones testified.] - -The other is called the Torre de la Vela, because on this watch-tower hangs -the bell which gives warning to the irrigators in the vega below. The view -from hence is the most enchanting thing possible, commanding the whole -country. Below lies Granada with its towers and sparkling rivers, the Darro -and the Xenil. Beyond stretches the beautiful rich "vega" (or plain), -studded with villas and villages, and encircled by snowy mountains, with -the Sierra of Albama on one side, and the Gorge of Loja on the other. -Descending the tower, and standing again in the "plaza" below, you see -opposite to you a large ruined Doric palace, a monument of the bad taste of -Charles V., who pulled down a large portion of the Moorish building to -erect this hideous edifice, which, like most other things in Spain, remains -unfinished. Passing through a low door to the right, our travellers were -perfectly dazzled at the beauty which suddenly burst upon them. It is -impossible to conceive anything more exquisite than the Alhambra, of which -no drawings, no Crystal Palace models, not even Washington Irving's -poetical descriptions, give one the faintest idea. "J'essaie en vain de -penser: je ne peux que sentir!" exclaimed the authoress of "Les Lettres -d'Espagne" on entering; but the predominant feeling is one of regret for -the Moors, whose dynasty produced such marvels of beauty and of art. -{327} -Entering by the fish-pond "patio," and visiting first the Whispering -Gallery, you pass through the Hall of the Ambassadors, and the Court of -Lions, out of which lead the Hall of the Abencerrages, and that of Justice, -with its two curious monuments and wonderful fretted roof, and then come to -the gem of the whole, the private apartments of the Moorish kings, with the -recessed bedroom of the king and queen, the boudoir and lovely latticed -windows overlooking the beautiful little garden of Lindaraja (the violets -and orange-blossoms of which scented the whole air), and the exquisite -baths below. [Footnote 111] It is a thing to dream of, and exceeds every -previous expectation. Again and again did our travellers return, and always -discovered some fresh beauties. The governor resides in a modernized corner -of the building, not far from the mosque, which has suffered from the bad -taste of the Christian spoilers. He is not a good specimen of Spanish -courtesy, as, in spite of letters of introduction from the highest -quarters, it was with very great difficulty that our party were admitted to -see anything beyond the portions of the building open to the general -public. At last, however, he condescended to find the keys of the Tower of -the Infantas, once the residence of the Moorish princesses whose tragical -fate is so touchingly recorded by Washington Irving. It is a beautiful -little cage, overlooking the ravine, with its fine aqueduct below, and rich -in the delicate moresque carving of both ceilings and walls. Afterward, -crossing a garden, they came to the gate by which Boabdil left his palace -for the last time, and which was afterward, by his special request, walled -up. The tower at this corner was mined and destroyed by the French. Our -party then descended to a little mosque lately purchased by Colonel ----, -and beautifully restored. This completed the circuit of the Alhambra, which -is girdled with walls and towers of that rich red-brown hue which stands -out so beautifully against the deep blue sky, but the greater portion of -which was ruthlessly destroyed by Sebastiani, at the time of his occupation -of Granada. - - [Footnote 111: Few have described this enchanting palace as well as the - French lady already quoted. She says, speaking of the feelings it calls - forth: "J'aimerais autant étre broyée dans la gueule de ces jolis - monstres qui ont des nez en noeud de oravate, appelés _Lions_ par - la grâce de Mahomet, que de te parier de l'Alhambra, tant cette - description est difficile. Les murailles ne sont que guipures délicates - et compilquées: les plus hardies stalactites ne peuvent donner une idée - des coupoles. Le tout est une merveille, un travail d'abeilles ou de - fées. Les sculptures sont d'une délicatesse ravissante, d'un goût - parfait, d'une richesse qui vous fait songer à tout ce que les contes - de fées vous décrivalent jadis à l'heureux àge où l'imagination a des - ailes d'or. Hélas! la mienne n'a pius d'alle, elle est de plomb. Les - Arabes n'employaient que quatre couleurs: le bleu, le rouge, le noir et - l'or. Cette richesse, ces teintes vives, sont visibles encore partout. - Enfin, mon ami, ce n'est point un palais ceci: c'est la ville d'un - enchanteur!"] - -The restoration of this matchless palace has been undertaken by the present -queen, who has put it in the hands of a first-rate artist named Contreras; -and this confidence has been well bestowed, for it is impossible to see -work executed in a more perfect manner, so that it is very difficult to -tell the old portions from the new. If he be spared to complete it, future -generations will see the Alhambra restored very nearly to its pristine -beauty. This gentleman makes exquisite models of different parts of the -building, done to a scale, which are the most perfect miniature fac-similes -possible of the different portions of this beautiful palace, and a most -agreeable memento of a visit to it. Our travellers purchased several, and -only regretted they had not chosen some of the same size, as they would -make charming panels for a cabinet or screen. - -In the afternoon, the party started to see the cathedral, escorted by the -kind and good-natured dean, who engaged the venerable mother of the "Little -Sisters of the Poor" to act as his interpreter, his Andalusian Spanish -being utterly unintelligible to most of the party. The first feeling on -entering is of unmixed disappointment. It is a pagan Greco-Roman building, -very much what our London churches are which were erected in the time of -the Georges. But it has one redeeming point--the Capilla de los Reyes, -containing the wonderful monuments of Ferdinand and Isabella, and of Philip -and Joan. -{328} -The alabaster sepulchres of the former, wrought at Genoa by Peralta, are -magnificent, both in design and execution. Isabella's statue is especially -beautiful: - - In questa forma - Passa la bella donna, e par che dorma. - -The faces are both portraits, and have a simple dignity which arrests the -attention of the most unobservant. A low door and a few steep steps below -the monuments lead to their last resting-place. The royal coffins are of -lead, lapped over, rude and plain (only the letter F distinguishes that of -the king), but they are genuine, and untouched since the day when their -bodies, so justly revered by the Spaniards, were deposited in this humble -vault. Among the treasures of this chapel are likewise shown the identical -royal standards used at the conquest of Granada; the kings sword; the -queen's own missal; their crosier and crown of silver-gilt; the picture of -the Virgin and Child by St. Luke, given to Isabella by Pope Innocent VIII., -and before which mass is said every 2d of January, the anniversary of the -taking of the city; and the portrait of the knight who, during the siege, -rode into Granada, and affixed a taper and an "Ave Maria" on the very door -of the principal mosque. In the sacristy is a "Conception," exquisitely -carved, by Alonso Caño; an "Adoration of the Kings," by Hemling, of Bruges; -a curious ring of Sixtus II.; a chasuble embroidered by Queen Isabella; -some very valuable relics and reliquaries, and a letter of St. Charles -Borromeo, which the good-natured dean allowed one of the party to copy. -Besides these treasures, and the Capilla de los Reyes, there is really -nothing to look at in the cathedral, but one or two good painted glass -windows, some clustered columns, and a curious arch in the dome, which was -made to bend downward. - -The following morning, after an early service at the Capuchin convent of -St. Antonio, one of the party started on an expedition with the sisters of -the town, and winding up a beautiful and steep ravine, in the holes and -caverns of which gypsies live and congregate, they came to a picturesque -wood planted on the side of the mountain. Here they left their carriages, -and scrambled up a zigzag path cut in the hill, with low steps or -"gradini," till they reached a plateau, on which stands both convent and -church. The view from the terrace in front is the most magnificent which -can be conceived. On one side are the snowy mountains of the Sierra Nevada, -with a rapid river tumbling into the gorge below, the valleys being lined -on both sides with stone-pine woods, amid which little convents and -villages are clustered. On the other is the town of Granada, with its domes -and towers; and sharply standing out on the rocks above the ruins, against -the bright blue sky, are the coffee-colored towers of the beautiful -Alhambra. There is a Via Crucis up to this spot, the very crosses seeming -to start up out of the rocks, which are clothed with aloes and prickly -pear; while in the centre of the terrace is a beautiful fountain and cross, -shaded by magnificent cypresses. The church is built over some catacombs, -where the bodies of St. Cecilia and eleven other martyrs were found, who -suffered in the persecution under Nero. The superior of this convent, now -converted into a college, is Don José Martin, a very holy man, though quite -young, and revered by the whole country as a saint. He is a wonderful -preacher, and by his austere and penitential life works miracles in -bringing souls to God. His manner is singularly gentle, simple, and humble. -He kindly came to escort the party through the catacombs, and to show them -the relics. The sites of the different martyrdoms have been converted into -small chapels or oratories: in one, where the victim perished by fire, his -ashes still remain. Little leaden tablets mark the different spots. -{329} -Here also is the great wooden cross of St. John of the Cross, from the foot -of which he preached a sermon on the "Love of God" during his visit to -Granada, which is said to have converted upward of three thousand people. -"I always come here to pray for a few minutes before preaching," said -simply Don José Martin, "so that a portion of his spirit may rest upon me." -After spending some time in this sanctuary, the party reluctantly retraced -their steps, and returned to the town, where they had promised to visit the -great hospital of San Juan de Dios. It is a magnificent establishment, -entirely under the care of the Spanish sisters of charity of St. Vincent de -Paul, with a "patio" or quadrangle in the centre, and double cloisters -round, into which the wards open: all round the cloisters are frescoes -describing different scenes in the life of the saint. The church is -gorgeous in its decorations, and in a chapel above rests the body of San -Juan, in a magnificent silver shrine, with his clothes, his hat, the basket -in which he used daily to go and collect food for his sick and dying poor, -and other like personalities. - -This saint is immensely revered in Granada. He was the first founder of the -order of Brothers of Charity, now spread all over Europe, beginning his -great work, as all saints have done, in the humblest manner possible, by -hiring a small house (now converted into a wayside oratory), in which he -could place four or five poor people, nursing them himself night and day, -and only going out to beg, sell, and chop wood, or do anything to obtain -the necessary food and medicines for them. The archbishop, touched with his -burning charity, assisted him to build a larger hospital. This house soon -after took fire, when San Juan carried out the sick one by one on his back, -without receiving any hurt. It is thus that he is represented in the Statue -Gallery of Madrid. The people, inflamed by his loving zeal, and in -admiration of his great wisdom, humility, and prudence, came forward as one -man to help him to build the present hospital, which remains to this day as -a monument of what may be done by one poor man of humble birth, if really -moved by the love of God. His death was caused by rescuing a man in danger -of drowning from the sudden rising of the river, and then remaining, wet -and worn out as he was, while caring for the family. He died on his knees, -repeating the "Miserere," amidst the tears of the whole city, to whom, by -the special command of the archbishop, he gave his dying benediction. His -favorite saying was: "Labor without intermission to do all the good works -in your power while time is allowed you;" and this sentence is engraved in -Spanish on the door of the hospital. - -The following day happened to be the anniversary of his death, or rather of -his birthday in heaven, when a touching and beautiful ceremonial is -observed. The archbishop and his clergy come to the hospital to give the -holy communion to the sick in each ward. A procession is formed of the -ecclesiastics and the sisters of charity, each bearing lighted tapers, and -little altars are arranged at the end of each ward, beautifully decorated -with real flowers, while everything in and about the hospital is fresh and -clean for the occasion. A touching incident occurred in the male ward on -that day, where one poor man lay in the last stage of disease. The -eagerness of his look when the archbishop drew near his bed will never be -forgotten by those who were kneeling there; nor the way in which his face -lighted up with joy when he received his Lord. The attendant sister bent -forward to give him a cordial afterward: he shook his head, and turned his -face away; he would have nothing after _that_. Before the last notes -of the "Pange Lingua" or the curling smoke of the incense had died out of -the ward, all was over; but the smile on the lips and the peace on the face -spoke of the rest he had found. Afterward there was a magnificent service -in the church, and a dinner to all the orphans in the sisters' schools. - -{330} - -Another interesting expedition made by our travellers was to the Carthusian -convent outside the town. Sebastiani desecrated and pillaged the wonderful -treasures it contained; but the tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl doors -and presses remain, reminding one of those in the Armenian church at -Jerusalem, at the shrine of St. James. There are also two statues of St. -Bruno, by Alonso Caño; wonderful for their life-like appearance and -expression, but still not equal to the incomparable one at Miraflores. -There are some beautiful alabaster and agate pillars still left in the -chapel behind the high altar, which it is to be supposed were too heavy for -the spoilers to carry off. In the cloister are some curious frescoes of the -martyrdoms of the Carthusians, at the time of the Protestant Reformation, -by Henry VIII. of England. The guide who accompanied our travellers said -slyly to the only Catholic of the party: "We had better not explain the -subject of these. Let them imagine they are some of the horrors of of the -Inquisition--_that always takes with English people!_" Another picture -was startling both in subject and coloring; it was that of a dead doctor, -much venerated in life, who, on a funeral panegyric being pronounced over -him, started from his coffin, exclaiming that "his life had been a lie, and -that be was among the damned!" The friar who showed our party over the now -deserted convent was like Fray Gabriel in Fernan Caballero's novel of La -Gaviota. When the rest of the Carthusians were turned out by the -government, he would not go. "I was brought here as a little child," he -said, "and know no one in the world;" and so he sat himself down by the -cross and sobbed. They let him stay and keep the garden and the church, but -his life is over. "The blood does not run in his veins--it walks!" Like -Fray Gabriel, he will die kneeling before the Christ to whom he daily prays -for those who have so cruelly wronged and robbed him. The view from the -terrace in front of the church is beautiful, overlooking the rich and -cultivated plain of Soto de Roma, the property of the Duke of Wellington, -with the mountain of Parapanda above, the hills of Elvira, and the pass of -Moelin, which forms the bridle-road to Cordova. The gardens also are -delightful: no wonder the poor monks clung to their convent home! - -In the afternoon our travellers walked up to the Generalife, a villa now -belonging to the Panavicini family, a branch of the great Genoa house, but -formerly the palace of the Sultana. Passing through vineyards and -fig-trees, they arrived at the gate of the fairy garden, with its long -straight borders, fringed with myrtle, irrigated by the Darro, which is -carried in a little canal between the flower-beds, and with a beautiful -open colonnade overlooking the Alhambra, while a less formal garden sent up -a shower of sweet scents from the orange trees and jessamine trellises -below. Through this colonnade they passed into the living-rooms, exquisite -in their Moorish carvings and decorations. In one of them there are a -number of curious though somewhat apocryphal portraits, including one of -Boabdil, and of another Moorish king of Granada, with his wife and -daughter, who turned Christians, and were baptized at Santa Fé. In the -outer room are portraits of an the "bluest blood" of Granada. But the -gardens form the greatest charm. The ground was covered with Neapolitan -violets and other spring flowers. Roses climbed over every wall, and -magnificent cypresses, and aloes in full flower, shaded the beds from the -burning sun. The largest of these cypresses, called the Sultana, is twelve -feet in circumference, and to this tree the fatal legend of the fair Zoraya -is attached. Behind these cypresses is a flight of Italian-looking steps, -leading to another raised garden, full of terraces and fountains. On the -steep brow of the hill is an alcove, or summer-house, from whence the views -over Granada and the Alhambra are quite enchanting, every arch being, as it -were, the setting or frame of a new and beautiful picture. -{331} -Above this again, is a Moorish fortress, and a knoll called the Moors -Chair, from whence the last Moorish king is said to have sadly contemplated -the defeat of his troops by the better-disciplined armies of Ferdinand and -Isabella grouped in the plains below. Scrambling still higher up, our -travellers came to the ruins of a chapel, and to some curious caverns, with -a peep into a wild gorge to the right leading into the very heart of this -mountainous and little-visited region. Boabdil's sword, and other relics -and pictures of the fifteenth century belonging to the Pallavicini family, -are carefully preserved by their agent in their house in the town, and had -been courteously shown to our travellers when they called to obtain -permission to visit the villa. Returning toward their hotel, they thought -they would prolong their walk by visiting the great cemetery, or "Campo -Santo," which is a little to the north of the Generalife. Long files of -mourners had been perpetually passing by their windows, the bier being -carried on men's shoulders, and uncovered, as in the East, so that the face -of the dead was visible. Each bier was followed by the confraternity to -which he or she belonged, chanting hymns and litanies as they wound up the -long steep hill from the town to the burial-ground. But all appearance of -reverence, or even of decency, disappears at the spot itself, where the -corpse is stripped, taken out of its temporary coffin, and brutally cast -into a pit, which is kept open till filled, and then, with quicklime thrown -in, closed up, and a fresh one opened to be treated in a similar manner. It -is a disgrace to Catholic Spain that such scenes should be of daily -recurrence. - -Another villa worth visiting in the neighborhood of the Alhambra is that of -Madame Calderon, where the obliging French gardener took our travellers all -over the gardens and terraces, the hot houses and aviaries, the artificial -streams and bridges, till they came to the great attraction of the place-- -a magnificent arbor-vitae, or hanging cypress, falsely called a cedar of -Lebanon, which was planted by St. John of the Cross, this site being -originally occupied by a convent of St. Theresa's. The house is thoroughly -comfortable inside, with charming views over the "vega," and altogether -more like an English house than anything else in Spain. If anyone wished to -spend a delightful summer out of England, they could find no more agreeable -retreat; perfect as to climate, and with the most enjoyable and beautiful -expeditions to be made in every direction. It is worth remembering, as -Madame Calderon, being now a widow, is anxious to let her residence, having -another house in Madrid. There is a church close by, and a dairy attached -to the garden, which is a rarity in Spain, and a public benefit to the -visitors at the Alhambra; and the clever and notable French wife of the -gardener makes delicious butter, and sells both that and the cream in her -mistress's absence--luxuries utterly unknown anywhere else in the -Peninsula. - -Bad weather and heavy snow (for they had visited Granada too early in the -year) prevented our travellers from accomplishing different expeditions -which they had planned for the ascent of the Sierra Nevada, and visiting -Alhama and Adea, and other interesting spots in the neighborhood. But they -drove one day to the Alameda, where all Granada congregates in the evening, -and from whence the view looking on the mountains is beautiful. - -Returning by the Moorish gateway, called the Puerta de Monayma, they came -to an open space, in the centre of which is a statue of the Virgin. Here -public executions used to take place, and here, in 1881, Mariana Pineda, a -lady of high birth and great beauty, was strangled. A simple cross marks -the spot. Her crime was the finding in her house a flag, maliciously placed -there by a man whose addresses she had rejected. - -{332} - -From this "plaza" our travellers drove to the conflux of the rivers Darro -and Xenil, which together form the Guadalquiver; and from thence proceeded -to a mosque, where a tablet records the fact of its having been the place -where the unfortunate king Boabdil gave the keys of the town to the -Christian conquerors, Ferdinand and Isabella, and then himself rode slowly -and sadly away from his beautiful palace by a mountain still called the -"Last Sigh of the Moor," immortalized both in verse and song. The -accompanying ballad, with its plaintive wailing sound, still echoes in the -hearts and on the lips of the people: - - Ay de mi Alhama - Paseabase el Rey Moro - Por la ciudad de Granada - Desde la puerta de Elvira - Hasta la de Bibarrambla - Ay de mi Alhama! - -Returning, they visited the church of Las Angustias, where there is a -wonderful but tawdrily dressed image of the Blessed Virgin, who is the -patroness of the town. The French sisters of charity have a large orphanage -and day-school here, established originally by Madame Calderon; but the -situation, in the street called Recogidas, is low and damp, and their -chapel being almost underground, and into which no sun can ever enter, -seriously affects the health of the sisters. Here, as everywhere, they are -universally beloved and respected, and the present superior is one -eminently qualified, by her loving gentleness and evenness of temper, to -win the hearts of all around her. The dress of the people of Granada is -singularly picturesque: the women wear crape shawls of the brightest -colors, yellow, orange, or red, with flowers stuck jauntily on one side of -the head just above the ear; the men have short velvet jackets, waistcoats -with beautiful hanging silver buttons (which have descended from father to -son, and are not to be bought except by chance), hats with large borders, -turned up at the edge, red sashes round the waist, and gaiters of untanned -leather, daintily embroidered, open at the knee, with hanging strips of -leather and silver buttons. Over the whole, in cold weather, is thrown the -"capa," or large cloak, which often conceals the threadbare garments of a -beggar, but which is worn with the air of the proudest Spanish 'hidalgo.' -This evening, the last which our travellers were to spend in Granada, they -had a visit from the king and captain of the gypsies, a very remarkable -man, between thirty and forty years of age, and a blacksmith by trade. He -brought his guitar, and played in the most marvellous and beautiful way -possible: first tenderly and softly; then bursting into the wildest -exultation; then again plaintive and wailing, ending with a strain of -triumph and rejoicing and victory which completely entranced his hearers. -It was like a beautiful poem or a love-tale, told with a pathos -indescribable. -{333} -It was a fitting last remembrance of a place so full of poetry and of the -past, with a tinge in it of that sorrowful dark thread which always seems -woven into the tissue of earthly lives. Sorrowfully, the next morning, our -travellers paid their last visit to the matchless Alhambra, which had grown -upon them at every turn. Then came the "good-by" to their good and faithful -guide, _Bensaken_, that name so well known to all Granada tourists; -and to the kind sisters of charity, whose white "cornettes" stood grouped -round the fatal diligence which was to convey them back to Malaga. And so -they bade adieu to this beautiful city, with many a hope of a return on -some future day, and with a whole train of new thoughts and new pictures in -their mind's eye, called forth by the wonders they had seen. - ------- - - Original. - - Victor Cousin And His Philosophy. - - -The papers some months since announced the death at Paris of M. Victor -Cousin, the well-known eclectic philosopher and Orleanist statesman. The -reëstablishment of the Imperial _régime_ in France had deprived him of -his political career, never much distinguished; and whatever interest he -may have continued to take in philosophy, he produced, as far as we are -aware, no new philosophical work after the revolution of July, 1830, except -prefaces to new editions of his previous writings, or to other writers -whose works he edited, and some "Rapports" to the Academy, among which the -most notable is that on the unpublished works of Abelard, preceded by a -valuable introduction on the scholastic philosophy, which he afterward -published in a separate volume under the title of La Philosophie -Scholastique. - -M. Cousin was born at Paris in 1792, and was, the New American Cyclopedia -says, the son of a clock maker, a great admirer of Jean Jacques Rousseau, -and he was, of course, brought up without any religious faith or culture, -as were no small portion of the youth of France born during the Revolution. -Pierre Leroux maliciously accuses Cousin, after he had quarreled with him, -of having been, when they were fellow-students together, a great admirer of -_L'Ami du Peuple_, the journal in which Marat gained his infamous -notoriety. His early destination was literature, and he was always the -littérateur rather than the philosopher; but early falling under the -influence of M. Royer-Collard, a stanch disciple of the Scottish school, -founded by Reid and closed by Sir William Hamilton, he directed his -attention to the study of philosophy, became master of conferences in the -Normal School, and, while yet very young, professor of the history of -philosophy in the Faculté des Lettres at Paris. His course for 1818, and a -part of is course for 1819 and 1820, have been published from notes taken -by his pupils. Being too liberal to suit the government, he was suspended -from his professorship in 1824, but was restored in 1828, and continued his -lectures up to the Revolution of 1830. Since then he has made no important -contributions to philosophical science. - -The greater part of M. Cousin's philosophical works are left as fragments -or as unfinished courses. -{334} -His course of 1829-30 ends with the sensist school, and the critical -examination of Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding. His translation of -Plato was completed indeed; but the arguments or introductions, except to a -few of the Dialogues, and the Life of Plato promised, have never appeared. -He seems to have exhausted his philosophical forces at an early day, and -after publishing a new and revised edition of his previous writings, to -have devoted himself chiefly to literature, especially to the literary -history of the first half of the seventeenth century, and the biography of -certain eminent ladies that played a very distinguished part in the -political intrigues and insurrections of the period. It is doubtful if any -man living had so thorough and minute a knowledge of the literature, the -religious controversies, the philosophy, the polities, and the biography of -the period from the accession of Louis XIII. to the end of the wars of the -Fronde, and the triumph of Mazarin over his enemies, as he possessed. His -Duchesse de Longueville, Madame de Sablé, Duchesse de Chevreuse, and Madame -de Hautefort, and his history of the conclusion of the wars of the Fronde, -are, as literary works, unrivalled, written with rare simplicity, purity, -grace, and delicacy of expression and style, and have an easy natural -eloquence and charm never surpassed by any writer even in the French -language. He has resuscitated those great dames of the seventeenth century, -who live, love, sin, repent, and do penance in his pages as they did in -real life. He seems, as a Parisian has said, to have really fallen in love -with them, and to have regarded each of them as his mistress, whose honor -be must defend at the risk of his life. - -The French, we believe, usually count M. Villemain as the most perfect -master of their beautiful language; but to our taste he was surpassed by -Cousin, if not in the delicacy of phrase, which only a Frenchman born or -bred can appreciate, in all the higher qualities of style, as much as he -was in depth and richness of feeling, and variety and comprehensiveness of -thought. Cousin was by far the greater man, endowed with the richer genius, -and, as far as we can judge, equally polished and graceful as a writer. As -a philosophical writer, for beauty, grace, elegance, and eloquence he has -had no equal since Plato; and he wrote on philosophical subjects with ease -and grace, charmed and interested his readers in the dryest and most -abstruse speculations of metaphysics. His rhetoric was captivating even if -his philosophy was faulty. - -M. Cousin called his philosophical system eclecticism. He starts with the -assumption that each philosophical school has its special point of view, -its special truth, which the others neglect or unduly depress, and that the -true philosopher weds himself to no particular school, but studies them all -with impartiality, accepts what each has that is positive, and rejects what -each has that is exclusive or negative. He resolves all possible schools -into four--1st. The Sensist; 2d, the Idealistic--subjectivistic; 3d, the -Sceptical; 4th, the Mystic. Each of these four systems has its part of -truth, and its part of error. Take the truth of each, and exclude the -error, and you have true philosophy, and the whole of it. Truth is always -something positive, affirmative; what then is the truth of scepticism, -which is a system of pure negation, and not only affirms nothing, but -denies that anything can be affirmed? How, moreover, can scepticism, which -is universal nescience, be called a system of philosophy? Finally, if you -know not the truth in its unity and integrity beforehand, how are you, in -studying those several systems, to determine which is the part of truth and -which the part of error? - -There is no doubt that all schools, as all sects, have their part of truth, -as well as their part of error; for the human mind cannot embrace pure -unmixed error any more than the will can pure unmixed evil; but the -eclectic method is not the method of constructing true philosophy any more -than it is the method of constructing true Christian theology. -{335} -The Catholic acknowledges willingly the truth which the several sects hold; -but he does not derived it from them, nor arrived at it by studying their -systems. He holds it independently of them; and having it already in its -unity and integrity, he is able, in studying them, to distinguish what they -have that is true from the errors they mix up with it. It must be the same -with the philosopher. M. Cousin was not unaware of this, and he finally -asserted eclecticism rather as a method of historical verification, than as -the real and original method of constructing philosophy. The name was -therefore unhappily chosen, and is now seldom heard. - -Eclecticism can never be a philosophy. All it can be is a method, and is, -as Cousin held, a method of verification rather than of construction. -Cousin's own method was not the eclectic, but avowedly the psychological; -that is, by careful observation and profound study of the phenomena of -consciousness, to attain to a real ontological science, or science of the -soul, of God, and nature. This method was severely criticised by Schelling -and other German philosophers, and has been objected to by ontologists -generally, as giving not a real ontology, but only a generalization. Dr. -Channing called the God asserted by Cousin "a splendid generalization"--a -very just criticism, but perhaps not for the precise reason the eloquent -Unitarian preacher assigned. Cousin does not maintain, theoretically at -least, that we can, by way of induction or deduction from purely -psychological facts, attain to a real ontological order. His real error was -in the misapplication of his method, which led him to deny what he calls -necessary and absolute ideas, and terms the idea of the true, the idea of -the beautiful, and the idea of the good, are being, and therefore God, and -to represent them as the word of God--the precise error which, Gioberti -rightly or wrongly maintains, was committed by Rosmini. It must be admitted -that Cousin is not on this point very clear, and that he often speaks of -ontology as an induction from psychology, in which case the God he asserts -would be, for the reason Channing supposes, only a generalization. - -But we think it is possible to clear him from this charge, so far as his -intention went, and to defend the psychological method as he professed to -apply it. He professed to attain to ontology from the phenomena of -consciousness, or the facts revealed to consciousness; but he labors long -and hard, as does every psychologist who admits ontology at all, to show, -by a careful analysis and classification of these phenomena or facts, that -there are among them some, at least, which are not derived from the soul -itself, which do not depend on it, and do actually extend beyond the region -of psychology, and lead at once into the ontological order. In other words, -he claims to find in his psychological observation and analysis real -ontological facts. It is from these, not from purely psychological -phenomenon, that he professes to rise to ontology. So understood, what is -called the psychological method is strictly defensible. Every philosopher -does and must begin by the analysis of thought, that is, in the language of -Cousin, the fact of consciousness, and there is no other way possible. That -the ideal formula enters into every one of my thoughts is not a fact that I -know without thought, and it can be determined only by analyzing the -thought one thinks, that is, the fact of consciousness. The quarrel here -between the psychologists and the ontologists is quite unnecessary. - -What is certain, and this is all the ontologist need assert, or, in fact, -can assert, that ontology is neither an induction nor a deduction from -psychological data. God is not, and cannot be, the generalization of our -own souls. -{336} -But it does not follow from this that we do not think that which is God, -and that it is from thought we do and must take it. We take it from thought -and by thinking. What is objected to in the psychologists is the assumption -that thought is a purely psychological or subjective fact, and that from -this psychological or subjective fact we can by way of induction attain to -ontological truth. But as we understand M. Cousin, and we studied his works -with some care thirty or thirty-five years ago, and had the honor of his -private correspondence, this he never pretends to do. What he claims is -that in the analysis of consciousness we detect a class of facts or ideas -which are not psychological or subjective, but really ontological, and do -actually carry us out of the region of psychology into that of ontology. -That his account of these facts or ideas is to be accepted as correct or -adequate we do not pretend, but that he professes to recognize them and -distinguish them from purely psychological facts is undeniable. - -The defect or error of M. Cousin on this point was in failing, as we have -already observed, to identify the absolute or necessary ideas he detects -and asserts with God, the only _ens necessarium et reale_, and in -failing to assert their objectivity to the whole subject, and in presenting -them only as objective to the human personality. He never succeeded in -cutting himself wholly loose from the German nonsense of a -subjective-object or objective-subject, and when he had clearly proved an -idea to be objective to the reflective reason and the human personality, he -did dare assert it to be objective in relation to the whole subject. It was -impersonal, but might be in a certain sense subjective, as Kant maintained -with regard to the categories. There always seemed to remain in his mind -some confusion between the subject and object, and hence his translator in -Specimens of Foreign Standard Literature, never ventures to translate _le -moi et le non-moi_, subject and object, or the soul and the world, but -introduces into the language such barbarisms as the _me_ and the -_not-me_. Indeed, at the time those Specimens were published, there -were few, if any, of the scholars of the modern Athens that understood or -could be made to understand the real distinction between objective and -subjective; and we observed the other day, in looking over the -_Einleitung_ of a German professor, that he speaks of the -objective-object, the objective-subject, the subjective-object, and the -subjective-subject. - -It is very easy to understand why Kant should assert objective-subjective, -for he held that the categories are necessary, irresistible, and -indestructible forms of the subject, but independent of the human will or -personality, or of proper human activity, nay, the very conditions of that -activity, imposed on us not by our will, but by the very constitution all -of our intellectual nature. But why Cousin should have hesitated to assert -the complete disjunction between subject and object in thought is what we -are unable to explain. He maintains strenuously that the object is distinct -from the personality of the subject, or that it is always, in his own -language, _le-non-moi_, but not that it is distinct from the whole -soul. He distinguishes the subject between personal activity and -impersonal. The personal is subjective, the impersonal is objective, but -objective in relation to what? To the personal only. There is, no doubt, -the distinction he asserts, and it is recognized by all our theologians in -their distinction between _actus humanus_ and _actus hominis_. -The _actus humanus_ is an act of free will, the _actus hominis_ -is an involuntary act; but both are acts of the subject, man. All action of -man, whether personal or impersonal, voluntary or involuntary, is -subjective, but for involuntary acts he is not held morally accountable. - -{337} - -This same failure to mark the real distinction between subjective and -objective, and making it simply the distinction between personal and -impersonal, _le moi_ and _le non-moi_, has greatly deprecated the -value in his philosophy of the distinction M. Cousin notes between -intuition and reflection. According to him they are but two modes of the -activity of one in the same reason--which reason, he asserts is our faculty -of intelligence. Reason, he says, is our only faculty of knowing, by which -we know all that we do know, whatever the sphere or object of our -knowledge. Reason, then, is subjective, and consequently so are all its -modes of activity. Intuition is as subjective as reflection, and hence the -distinction between intuition and reflections, really so important when -rightly understood, says nothing in favor of the objectivity of what M. -Cousin calls absolute or necessary ideas. It is in his philosophy simply a -distinction between personal and impersonal, between the spontaneous -activity and the reflective of the same subject; yet it is on this very -distinction that he bases the validity of his ontology and his whole -metaphysical system. By it he explains genius, inspiration, revelation, and -religious faith. These are operations of the spontaneous reason, and divine -because the activity of the spontaneous reason is not personal. In this -way, he legitimates all the religions of all ages and nations. He places -prophetic and apostolic inspiration and the inspiration of genius in the -same category, and resolves them all, in the last analysis, into what we -commonly called enthusiasm. But as reason, whether personal or impersonal, -is subjective, a faculty of the human soul, it is not easy to see why its -spontaneous activity should be more divine or authoritative then its -reflective activity. Does M. Cousin hold with the Arabs that the ravings of -the maniac are divine inspirations? - -Cousin seems to us never to have clearly understood the real character of -the distinction between intuition and reflection, on which he rightly -insists. Intuition is impersonal, divine, infallible, authoritative, he -maintains, while reflection, partaking of the imperfections and pettiness -of our own personality, is individual, fallible, and without authority, -save as supported by intuition. All that we ever do or can know is given us -primarily in intuition, and what is so given constitutes the common sense, -the common faith or belief of the race. There is less, but there can never -be more, in reflection than in intuition. The difference between the two is -the difference between _seeing_ and _beholding_. I see what is -before me, but to behold it I look. I look that I may determine what it is -I see. But it is clear from this illustration that the intuition is as much -the act of the subject as is the reflection. The only difference between -them is that asserted by Leibnitz between simple perception and -apperception. In simple perception I perceive all the objects before me, -without noting or distinguishing them; in apperception I note that it is I -who perceive them, and distinguish them both from myself and from one -another. The intuition is _à posteriori_, and is no synthetic judgment -_à priori_, as Kant terms what must precede experience in order to -render experience possible. - -Nor is it true to say that all our knowledge is given in the primitive -intuition. What is given in the primitive intuition is simply the ideal, -self-evident truths, as say some, first principles of all science, which -are at the same time the first principles of all reality, and could not be -the first principles of science if they were not the first principles of -reality, say others. Even they who assert that the ideal formula, _Ens -creat existentias_, is intuitive, never pretend that anything more than -the ideal element of thought or experience is intuitive. The ideal formula -is simply the scientific reduction of the categories of Aristotle and Kant -to three, and their identification with reality; that is, their reduction -to being, existence, and the creative act of being, which is the real nexus -between them. These three categories must be given intuitively, or _à -priori_, because without them the intelligence is not constituted, and -no science, no experience, is possible. -{338} -But in them, while the principles of all science are given, no knowledge or -apprehension of particular things is given. The intuition constitutes, we -would say creates, the faculty of intelligence, but all science is acquired -either by the exercise of that faculty or by divine revelation addressed to -it. - -Reduced to its proper character as asserted by M. Cousin, intuition is -empirical, and stands opposed not to reflection, but to discursion, and is -simply the immediate and direct perception of the object without the -intervention of any process, more or less elaborate, of reasoning. This is, -indeed, not an unusual sense of the word, perhaps its more common sense, -but it is a sense that renders the distinction between intuition and -reflection of no importance to M. Cousin, for it does not carry him out of -the sphere of the subject, or afford any basis for his ontological -inductions. He has still the question as to the objectivity and reality of -the ideal to solve, and no recognized means of solving it. His ontological -conclusions, therefore, as a writer in The Christian Examiner told him as -long ago as 1836, rest simply on the credibility of reason or faith in its -trustworthiness, which can never be established, because it is assumed that -to the operation of reason no objective reality is necessary, since the -object, if impersonal, may for aught that appears be included in the -subject. Notwithstanding his struggles and efforts of all sorts, we think, -therefore, that it must be conceded that Cousin remained in the sphere of -psychology, and that the facts the study and analysis of consciousness gave -him, have in his system no ontological value, for he fails to establish -their real objectivity. His passage from psychology is a leap over a gulf -by main strength, not a regular dialectic passage, which he professes to -have found, or which he promises to provide, and which the true analysis of -thought discloses. - -M. Cousin professes to have reduced the categories of Kant and Aristotle to -two, substance and cause, or substance and phenomenon. But, as he in fact -identifies cause with substance, declaring substance to be substance only -in so much as it is cause, and cause to be cause only in so much as it is -substance, he really reduces them to the single category of substance, -which you may call indifferently substance or cause. But though every -substance is intrinsically and essentially a cause, yet, as it may be -something more than cause, it is not necessary to insist on this, and it -may be admitted that he recognizes two categories. Under the head of -substance he ranges all that is substantial, or that pertains to real and -necessary being, and under the head of cause the phenomenal, or the effects -of the causative action of substance. He says he understands by substance -the universal and absolute substance, the universal, necessary, and real -being of the theologians, and by phenomena not mere modes or appearances of -substance, but finite and relative substances, and calls them phenomena -only in opposition to the one absolute substance. They are created or -produced by the causative action of substance. If this has any real -meaning, he should recognize three categories, as in the ideal formula, -_Ens creat existentias_, that is, being, existence, or creature, and -the creative act of being, the real nexus between substance or being and -contingent existences, for it is that which places them and binds them to -the creator. In the ideal formula the categories are all reduced to three, -which really include them all and in their real relation. Whatever there is -to be known must be arranged under one or another of the three terms of the -formula, for whatever is conceivable must be being, the creative act of -being, or the product of that act, that is to say, existences. The ideal -formula is complete, for it asserts in their logical relation the first -principles of all the knowable (_omne scibile_) and all the real -(_omne reale_), and of all the knowable because of all the real, for -what is not real is not knowable. M. Cousin's reduction to substance and -cause, or being and phenomena, besides being not accurately expressed, is -unscientific and defective. - -{339} - -We do not think M. Cousin ever intended to deny the creative act of being, -or the reality of existences, or what he calls phenomena, but he includes -the act in his conception of substance. God is in his own intrinsic nature, -he maintains, causative or creative, and cannot, therefore, not cause or -create. Hence, creation is necessary. Being causative in his essence, -essentially a cause, and cause being a cause only inasmuch as it causes or -is actually a cause, God is, if we may so speak, forced to create, and to -be continuously creating, by the intrinsic and eternal necessity of his own -being. This smacks a little of Hegelianism, which teaches that God perfects -or fills out his own being, or realizes the possibilities of his own -nature, in creating, and arrives at self-consciousness first in man--a -doctrine which our Boston transcendentalists embodied in their favorite -aphorism, "In order to be you must do"--as if without being it is possible -to do, as if imperfection could make itself perfection, or anything by -itself alone could make itself more than it is! - -But the doctrine that substance is essentially cause, and must from -intrinsic necessity cause in the sense of creating, is not tenable. We are -aware that Leibnitz, a great name in philosophy, defines substance to be an -active force, a _vis activa_, but we do not recollect that he anywhere -pretends that its activity necessarily extends beyond itself. God is _vis -activa_, if you will, in a supereminent degree; he is essentially -active, and would be neither being nor substance if he were not; he is, as -say Aristotle and the schoolmen, most pure act; and hence the theologians -discover in him a reason for the eternal generation of the Son, and the -eternal procession of the Holy Ghost, or why God is necessarily indivisible -Trinity; but nothing in this implies that he must necessarily act _ad -extra_, or create. He acts eternally from the necessity of his own -divine nature, but not necessarily out of the circle of his own infinite -being, for he is complete in himself, the plenitude of being, and always -and everywhere suffices for himself, and therefore for his own activity. -Creation, or the production of effects exterior to himself, is not -necessary to the perfection of his activity, adds and can add nothing to -him, as it does and can take nothing from him. Hence, though we cannot -conceive of him without conceiving him as infinitely, eternally, and -essentially active, we can conceive of him as absolute substance or being -without conceiving him to be necessarily acting or creating _ad -extra_. - -M. Cousin evidently confounds the interior act of the divine being with his -exterior acts, or acts _ad extra_, or creative acts. God being most -pure act, says the eclectic philosopher, he must be infinitely active, and -if infinitely active he must develop himself in creation; therefore, -creation is necessary, and God cannot but create. This denies while it -asserts that God is in himself most pure act, and assumes that his nature -has possibilities that can be realized only in external acts. It makes the -creation necessary to the perfection of his being, and assumes either that -he is not in himself _ens perfectissimum_, or most perfect being, or -that the creation, the world, or universe, is itself God; that is, the -conception of God as most perfect being includes both substance and cause, -both being and phenomenon. Hence, with the contradiction of which M. Cousin -gives more than one example, and which no pantheistic philosopher does or -can escape, in asserting creation to be necessary, he declares it to be -impossible; for the phenomena substantially considered are God himself, -indistinguishable from him, and necessary to complete our conception of him -as absolute substance, or most perfect being. - -{340} - -In the preface to the third edition of his Philosophical Fragments, M. -Cousin says the expression, "Creation is necessary," is objectionable, as -irreverent, and appearing to imply that God in creating is not free, and he -willingly consents to retract it. But we cannot find that he does retract -it, and, if he retracts the expression, he nowhere retracts the thought. He -denies that he favors a system of fatalism, and labors hard to prove that -though God cannot but create, yet that in creating he is free. God, he -says, must act according to his own essential nature, and cannot act -contrary to his own wisdom and goodness; yet in acting he acts freely. -There is a distinction between liberty and free will. Free will is liberty -accompanied by deliberation and struggles between opposite motives and -tendencies. In God there can be no hesitancy, no deliberation, no struggle -of choice between good and evil. Yet is he none the less free for that. -There are sublime moments when the soul acts spontaneously, with terrible -energy, without any deliberation. Is the soul in these sublime moments -deprived of liberty? The saint, when, by long struggles and severe -discipline, he has overcome all his internal enemies, and henceforth acts -right spontaneously, without deliberating--is he less free than he who is -still in the agony of the struggle, or are his acts less meritorious? Is -the liberty of God taken away by denying that he is free to act contrary to -his nature? - -Whether the distinction here asserted between liberty and free will is -admissible or not, or whether all that is alleged be true or much of it -only error, we pass over, as the discussion of the question of liberty -would lead further than we can now go; but in all he says he avoids the -real question at issue. Certainly, there can be no hesitancy on the part of -God, no interior struggle as to choice between good and evil, no -deliberation as to what he shall do or not do; nothing that implies the -least possible imperfection can be in him. Certain, again, is it that God -is not free to alter his own nature, to change his own attributes, or to -act contrary to them, to the eternal essences of things, or to his own -eternal ideas. But that is not the question. The real question is, Is be -free to create or not create at his own will and pleasure? Among the -infinite number of contingents possible, and all according with his own -essential attributes, is he free to select such as he chooses, and at his -own will and pleasure give them existence? This is the only question he had -to answer, and this question he studiously avoids, and fails, therefore, to -show that they are wrong who accuse him of asserting creation as the -necessary and not the free act of God. The charge of asserting universal -fatalism and pantheism he therefore fails to meet. He fails to vindicate -the liberty of God, and therefore, though he asserts it, the liberty of -man. All pantheism is fatalistic, and the doctrine of Spinoza is not more -decidedly pantheistic than the system adopted and defended by Cousin. - -We are far from believing that M. Cousin thought himself a pantheist, for -we do not think he ever understood his own system. He was more than most -men the dupe of words, and, though not destitute of philosophical genius, -philosophy was never his natural vocation, any more than it was his -original destination. He was always, as we have said, the littérateur -rather than the philosopher. Much allowance should also, no doubt, be made -for the unsettled state of philosophy in France when he became, under -Royer-Collard, master of conferences in the Normal School of Paris, and the -confused state of philosophical language that was then in use. Throughout -his whole ontology, he is misled by taking the word substance instead of -_ens_ or being. He says that he understands by substance, when he -asserts, as he does, that there is only one substance, what the fathers and -doctors of the church mean by the one supreme, necessary, absolute, and -eternal being, the _Ego sum Qui sum_, I am that I am, of Exodus, the -name under which God revealed himself to Moses. This is an improper use of -the word. -{341} -No doubt being is substance, or substantial, but the two terms are not -equivalents. Being has primary reference to that which is, as opposed to -that which is not, or nothing; substance is something, and so far coincides -with being, but something in opposition to attribute, mode, or accident, or -something capable of supporting attributes, modes, or accidents. Being is -absolute in and of itself, and therefore strictly speaking one, and it is -only in a loose sense that we speak of beings in the plural number, or call -creatures beings. There is and can be but one only being, God, for he only -can say, _Ego sum Qui sum_, and whatever existences there may be -distinguished from him have their being not in themselves, but in him, -according to what St. Paul says, "in him we live, and move, and have our -being: in _ipso vivimus, et movemur, et sumus._" There is in this view -nothing pantheistic, for being is complete in itself and sufficient for -itself. Consequently, there can be nothing distinguishable from being -except placed by the free creative act of being, that is, creation or -creatures. The creature is not being, but it holds from being by the -creative act, and may be and is a substance, distinct from the divine -substance. Being is one, substances may be manifold. Hence, in the ideal -formula, the first term or category is _ens_, not _substans_ or -_substantia_. - -Cousin, misled by Descartes and Spinoza, and only imperfectly acquainted -with the scholastic philosophy, adopts the term substance instead of being, -and maintains sturdily, from first to last, that there is and can be but -one substance. Whence it follows that all not in that one substance is -unsubstantial and phenomenal, without attributes, modes, or activity. -Creatures may have their being in God and yet be substances and capable of -acting from their own centre as second causes; but, if there is only one -substance, they cannot themselves be substances in any sense at all, and -can be only attributes, modes, or phenomena of the one only substance, or -God. God alone is in himself their substance and reality, and their -activity is really his activity. By taking for his first category substance -instead of _ens_ or being, M. Cousin found himself obliged virtually -to deny the second. He says he calls the second category phenomena, only in -opposition to the one universal substance, that he holds them to relative -or finite substances. This shows his honorable intentions, but it cannot -avail him, for he says over and over again that there is and can be but one -substance. Either substance is one and one only, he says formally, or it is -nothing. The unity of substance is vital in his system, and unity of -substance is the essential principle, of pantheism. He himself defines -substance as that which exists in itself and not in another. - -M. Cousin say pantheism is the divinization of nature, or nature taken in -its totality as God. But this is sheer atheism or naturalism, not -pantheism. The essence of pantheism is in the denial of substantial -creation or the creation of substances. The pantheist can, in a certain -manner, even admit creation, the creation of modes or phenomena, and there -are few pantheists who do not assert as much. The test is as to the -creation of substance, or existences that can support attributes, modes, or -accidents of their own, instead of being simply attributes, modes, or -accidents of the one substance, and thus capable of acting from their own -centre as proper second causes. He who denies the creation of such -existences is a pantheist, and he who affirms it is a theist and no -pantheist, however he may err in other matters. Had M. Cousin understood -this, he would have seen that he had not escaped the error of Spinoza. With -only one substance, it is impossible to assert the creation of substances. -The substance of the soul and of the world, if there is only one substance, -is God, and they are only phenomenal or mere appearances; the only activity -in the universe is that of God; and what we call our acts are his acts. -{342} -Whatever is done, whether good or evil, he does it, not only as _causa -eminens_ or _causa causarum_, but as direct and immediate actor. -The moral consequences of such a doctrine are easy to be seen, and need not -be dwelt upon. - -No doubt M. Cousin, when repelling the charge of pantheism preferred -against him, on the ground of his maintaining that there is only one -substance, thought he had said enough in saying that he used the word -phenomena in the sense of finite or relative substances; but if there is -only one substance, how can there be any finite and relative substances? -And he, also, should have considered that his use of the word phenomena was -the worst word he could have chosen to convey the idea of substance, -however finite, for it stands opposed to substance. He says _le moi_ -and _le non-moi_ are in relation to substance phenomenal. Who from -this could conclude them to be themselves substances? He says he could not -maintain that they are modes or appearances of substance only, because he -maintains that they are forces, causes. But it sometimes happens to a -philosopher to be in contradiction with himself, and always to the -pantheist, because pantheism is supremely sophistical and -self-contradictory. It admits of no clear, consistent, logical statement. -Besides, no man can always be on his guard, and when his system is false, -the force of truth and his good sense and just feeling will often get the -better of his system. He has, indeed, said the soul (_le moi_) and the -world (_le non-moi_) are forces, causes; but he has also said, as his -system requires him to say, that their substantial activity is the activity -of the one only substance, which is God. - -It were easy to justify these criticisms by any number of citations from M. -Cousin's several works, but it is not necessary, for we are attempting -neither a formal exposition nor a formal refutation of his system; we are -merely pointing out some of his errors and mistakes, for the benefit of -young and ingenuous students of philosophy, who need to be shown what it is -necessary to shun on the points taken up. Most, if not all, of M. Cousin's -mistakes and errors arose from his having considered the question of method -before he had settled that of principles. He says a philosopher's whole -philosophy is in his method. Tell me what is such or such a philosopher's -method, and I will tell you his philosophy. But this is not true, unless by -method he means both principles and method taken together. Method is the -application of principles, and presupposes them, and till they are -determined it is impossible to determine the method to be adopted or -pursued. The human mind has a method given it in its very constitution, and -we cannot treat the question of method till we have ascertained the -principles of that constitution. Principles are not found or obtained by -the exercise of our faculties, because without them the mind can neither -operate nor even exist. Principles are and must be given by the creator of -the mind itself. To treat the question of method before we have ascertained -what principles are thus given, is to proceed in the dark and to lose our -way. - -Undoubtedly, every philosopher must begin the construction of his -philosophy by the analysis of thought, either as presented him in -consciousness or as represented in language, or both together. This is a -mental necessity. Since philosophy deals only with thought or what is -presented in thought, its first step must be to ascertain what are the -elements of thought. So far as this analysis is psychological, philosophy -begins in psychology; but whether what is called the psychological method -is or is not to be adopted, we cannot determine till we have ascertained -the elements, and ascertained whether they are all psychological or not. If -on inquiry it should turn out that in every thought there is both a -psychological and an ontological element given simultaneously and in an -indissoluble synthesis, it is manifest that the exclusively psychological -method would lead only to error. -{343} -It would leave out the onto logical element, and be unable to present in -its true character even the psychological; for, if the psychological -element in the real order and in thought exists only in relation with the -ontological, it can be apprehended and treated in its true character only -in that relation. Whether such be the fact or not, how are we to determine -till we know what are the principles alike of all the knowable and of all -the real--that is, have determined the categories? - -The error of the psychological method is not that it asserts the necessity -of beginning our philosophizing with the analysis of thought, or what M. -Cousin calls, not very properly, the fact of consciousness, but in -proceeding to study the facts of the human soul, as if man were an isolated -existence, and the only thing existing; and after having observed and -classified these facts, either stopping with them, as does Sir William -Hamilton, or proceeding by way of induction, as most psychologists do, to -the conclusion of ontological principles--an induction which both Sir -William Hamilton and Schelling have proved, in their criticisms of Cousin's -method, is invalid, because no induction is valid that concludes beyond the -facts or particulars from which it is made. The facts being all -psychological, nothing not psychological can be concluded from them. Cousin -feels the force of this criticism, but, without conceding that his method -is wrong or defective, seeks to avoid it by alleging that among the facts -of consciousness are some which, though revealed by consciousness or -contained in thought, are some which are not psychological, and hence -psychology leads of itself not by way of induction, but directly, to -ontology. The answer is pertinent, for if it be true that there is an -ontological element in every thought, the analysis of thought discloses it. -But, hampered and blinded by his method, Cousin fails, as we have seen, to -disengage a really ontological element, and in his blundering explanation -of it deprives it of all real ontological character. His God is -anthropomorphous, when not a generalization or a pure abstraction. What -deceives the exclusive psychologists, and makes them regard their -inductions of ontology from psychological facts as valid, is the very -important fact that there are no exclusively psychological facts; and in -their psychology, though not recognized by them as such, and according to -their method ought not to be such, there are real ontological -elements--elements which are not psychological, and without which there -could be no psychological elements. These elements place us directly in -relation with the ontological reality, and the mistake is in not seeing or -recognizing this fact, and in assuming that the ontological reality, -instead of being given, as it is, intuitively, is obtained by induction -from the psychological. Ontology as an induction or a logical conclusion is -sophistical and false; as given intuitively in the first principles of -thought, it is well founded and true. The mistake arises from having -attempted to settle the question of method before having settled the -question of principles. The simple fact is that the soul is not the only -existence, nor an isolated existence. It exists and operates only in -relation with its creator and upholder, with the external world, and with -other men or society, so that there are and can be no purely psychological -facts. The soul severed from God, or the creative act of God, cannot live, -cannot exist, but drops into the nothing it was before it was created. -Principles are given, not found or obtained by our own activity, for, as we -have said, the mind cannot operate without principles. The principles, as -most philosophers tell us, are self-evident, or evidence themselves. If -real principles, they are and must be alike the principles of being and of -knowing, of science and reality. They must include in their real relations -both the psychological and the ontological. As the psychological does not -and cannot exist without the ontological, and, indeed, not without the -creative act of the ontological, science is possible only on condition that -the ontological and the psychological, as to their ideal principles, are -intuitively given, and given in their real synthesis, as it has been -abundantly shown they are given in the ideal formula. -{344} -The ontological and psychological being given intuitively and -simultaneously in their real relation, it follows necessarily that neither -the exclusively psychological method nor the exclusively ontological method -can be accepted, and that the method must be synthetic, because the -principles themselves are given in their real synthesis. Clearly, then, the -principles must determine the method, not the method the principles. It is -not true, then, to say that all one's philosophy is in one's method, but -that it is all in one's principles. If M. Cousin had begun by ascertaining -what are the principles of thought, necessarily asserted in every thought -and without which no thought is possible, he could never have fallen into -his pantheism, which every thought repudiates, and which cannot even be -asserted without self-contradiction, because in every thought there is -given as essential to the very existence of thought the express -contradictory of pantheism of every form. - -M. Cousin professes to be able, from the method a philosopher follows in -philosophizing, to foretell his philosophy; but although we would speak -with the greatest respect of our former master, from whom we received no -little benefit, we must say that we have never met a man, equally learned -and equally able, so singularly unhappy in explaining the systems of the -various schools of philosophy of which he professes to give the history. We -cannot now call to mind a single instance in which he has seized and -presented the kernel of the philosophical system he has undertaken to -explain. He makes the Theaetetus of Plato an argument against the sensists, -or the doctrine of the origin of all our ideas in sensation--when one has -but to read that Dialogue to perceive that what Plato is seeking to prove -is that the knowledge of the sensible, which is multiple, variable, and -evanescent, is no real science at all. Plato is not discussing at all the -question of how we know, but what we must know in order to have real -science. Cousin's exposition of what he calls the Alexandrian theodicy, or -of neoplatonism, is, notwithstanding he had edited the works of Proclus, a -marvel of misapprehension alike of the Alexandrian doctrine and of -Christian theology. He describes with a sneer the scholastic philosophy as -being merely "a commentary on the Holy Scriptures and texts from the -fathers." He edited the works of Descartes, but never understood more of -that celebrated philosopher than enough to imbibe some of his worst errors. -He has borrowed much, directly or indirectly, from Spinoza, but never -comprehended his system of pantheism, as is evident from his judgment that -Spinoza erred only in being too devout and too filled and penetrated with -God! - -He misapprehends entirely Leibnitz's doctrine of substance, as we have -already seen. His own system is in its psychological part borrowed chiefly -from Kant, and in its ontological part from Hegel, neither of whom has he -ever understood. He has the errors of these two distinguished Germans -without their truths or their logical firmness. And perhaps there was no -system of philosophy, of which he undertook to give an account, that he -less understood than his own. He seems, after having learned something of -the great mediaeval philosophers in preparing his work, Philosophic -Scholastique, to have had some suspicions that he had talked very -foolishly, and had been the dupe of his own youthful zeal and enthusiasm; -for, though he afterward published a new edition of his works without any -essential alteration, as we infer from the fact that they were placed at -Rome on the Index, he published, as far as we are aware, no new -philosophical work, and turned his attention to other subjects. Even in his -work on the Scholastics, as well as in his account of Jansenism in his work -on Madame de Sablé, we recollect no re-assertion of his pantheism, nor even -an unorthodox opinion. - -{345} - -It was a great misfortune for M. Cousin as a philosopher that he knew so -little of Catholic theology, and that what little he did know, apparently -caught up at second-hand, only served to mislead him. We are far from -building science on faith or founding philosophy on revelation, in the -sense of the traditionalists; yet we dare affirm that no man who has not -studied profoundly the Gospel of St. John, the Epistles of St. Paul, the -great Greek and Latin fathers, and the mediaeval doctors of the church, is -in a condition to write anything deserving of serious consideration on -philosophy. The great controversies that have been called forth from time -to time on the doctrine of the Trinity, the Incarnation, the two natures -and the two wills in the one person of our Lord, the Real Presence of our -Lord's body, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist, liberty and necessity, -the relations of nature and grace, and of reason and faith, throw a -brilliant light on philosophy far surpassing all the light to be derived -from Gentile sources, or by the most careful analysis of the facts of our -own consciousness. The effort, on the one hand, to demolish, and on the -other to sustain, Catholic dogma, has enlightened the darkest and most -hidden passages of both psychology and ontology, and placed the Catholic -theologian, really master of the history of his science, on a vantage -ground which they who know it not are incapable of conceiving. Before him -your Descartes, Spinozas, Kants, Fichtes, Schellings, Hegels, Cousins, -dwindle to philosophical pigmies. - -The excellent M. Augustin Cochin thinks that M. Cousin rendered great -service to the cause of religion by the sturdy warfare he carried in -defence of spiritualism against the gross sensism and materialism of the -eighteenth century, and nobody can deny very considerable merit to his -Critical Examination of Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding. Dr. C. S. -Henry translated it some years ago, in this country, and published it under -the rather inappropriate title of Consin's Psychology, and it has no doubt -had much influence in unseating Locke from the philosophical throne he -formerly occupied. But the reaction against Locke and Condillac, as well as -the philosophers of Auteuil, had commenced long before Consin became master -of conferences in L'Ecole Normale; and we much doubt if the subtiler and -more refined rationalism be has favored is a less dangerous enemy to -religion and society than the sensism of Condillac, or the gross -materialism of Cabanis, Garat, and Destutt de Tracy. Under his influence -infidelity in France has modified its form, but only, as it seems to me, to -render itself more difficult of detection and refutation. Pantheism is a -far more dangerous enemy than materialism, for its refutation demands an -order of thought and reasoning above the comprehension of the great mass of -those who are not incapable of being misled by its sophistries. The -refutation of the pantheism of our days requires a mental culture and a -philosophical capacity by no means common. Thousands could comprehend the -refutation of Locke or Condillac, where there is hardly one who can -understand the refutation of Hegel or Spinoza. - -Besides, we do not think Cousin can be said to have in all cases opposed -the truth to sensism. His spiritualism is not more true than sensism -itself. He pretends that we have immediate and direct apprehension of -spiritual reality--that is, pure intellections. True, he says that we -apprehend the noetic only on occasion of sensible affection, but on such -occasion we do apprehend it pure and simple. This is as to the apprehension -itself exaggerated spiritualism, and would almost justify the fair pupil of -Margaret Fuller in her exclamation, "O Miss Fuller! I see right into the -abyss of being." Man, not being a pure intelligence, but intelligence -clothed with sensibility, has and can have no pure intellections. -{346} -M. Cousin would have been more correct if instead of saying that the -affection of the sensibility is necessary as the occasion, he had said, we -know the supersensible indeed, but only as sensibly represented. - -In this sense we understand the peripatetics when they say: "Nihil est in -intellectu, quod non prius fuerit in sensu." The medium of this sensible -representation of the intelligible or spiritual truth to the understanding -is language of some sort, which is its sensible sign. M. Cousin would have -done well to have studied more carefully on this subject the remarkable -work of De Bonald, a work, though it has some errors, of an original genius -of the first order, and of a really profound thinker. Had he done this, he -might have seen that the reflective reason cannot operate without language, -and understood something of the necessity of the infallible church to -maintain the unity and integrity of language, whose corruption by -philosophers invariably involves the loss of the unity and integrity of the -idea. It might also have taught him that a philosophy worth anything cannot -be spun by the philosopher out of his own consciousness as the spider spins -her web out of her own bowels, and that without as much at least of -primitive revelation or the primitive instruction given by God himself to -the race, as is embodied in language, no man can successfully cultivate -philosophy. - -As minister of public instruction under Louis Philippe, M. Cousin labored -hard and with some success, we know not how much, to extend primary schools -in France; but he in part neutralized his services in this respect by his -defence of the university monopoly, his opposition to the freedom of -education, his efforts to force his pantheistic or at best rationalistic -philosophy into the colleges of the university, and his intense hatred and -unrelenting hostility to the Jesuits, who have first and last done so much -for education and religion in France as well as elsewhere. Ordinarily a man -of great candor, and of a most kindly disposition, his whole nature seemed -to change the moment a Jesuit was in question. He was no friend to the -Catholic religion, and after the writer of this became a Catholic, he -forgot his French politeness, and refused to answer a single one of his -letters. To him we were either dead or had become an enemy. He moreover -never liked to have his views questioned. In politics he belonged to the -_Doctrinaire_ school, and supported the _juste milieu_. In the -Revolution of 1848, and under the Republic, he opposed earnestly socialism, -and attempted to stay its progress by writing and publishing a series of -philosophical tracts, as if philosophy could cure an evil which it had -helped to create. When society is in disorder, old institutions are -falling, and civilization is rapidly lapsing into barbarism, it is only -religion, speaking from on high with the power of truth and the authority -of God, that can arrest the downward tendency. "Religion," said Lamennais -in the first volume of his Essay on Indifference in Matters of Religion, -"is found at the cradle of nations; philosophy at their tomb." Woe to the -nation that exchanges faith for philosophy! its ruin is at hand, for it has -lost the principle of life. After the _coup d'état_ little was heard -of Cousin either in the world of politics or philosophy, and his last years -appear to have flowed away in the peaceful pursuits of literature. - -Rumors from time to time reached us during the last dozen years that M. -Cousin had become a Catholic, and for his sake we regret that they have -remained unconfirmed. It is reported, on good authority, that he regularly -attended mass, and was accustomed to say his morning and evening prayers -before an image of Our Lady; but it is agreed by his most intimate Catholic -friends that he never made any formal profession of Catholic faith, and -died without receiving or asking the sacraments of the church. -{347} -That in his later years his mind turned at times toward the church, that -his feelings toward religion were softened, and that he felt the need of -faith, is very probable; but we have seen no evidence that he ever avowed -publicly or privately any essential change in his doctrine. He always held -that the Catholic faith is the form under which the people do and must -receive the truth; but he held that the truth thus received does not -transcend the natural order, and is transformed with the _élite_ of -the race into philosophy. - -We have found in his works no recognition of the supernatural order, or the -admission of any other revelation than the inspiration of the impersonal -reason. Providence for him was fate, and God was not free to interpose in a -supernatural way for the redemption and salvation of men. Creation itself -was necessary, and the universe only the evolution of his substance. There -is no evidence that we have seen that he ever attained to the conviction -that creation is the free act of the creator, or felt even for a moment the -deep joy of believing that GOD IS FREE. Yet it is not ours to judge the -man. We follow him to the mouth of the grave, and there leave him to the -mercy as well as the justice of him whose very justice is love. - -We are not the biographer of Victor Cousin; we have only felt that we could -not let one so distinguished in life, who had many of the elements of a -really great man, and whom the present writer once thought a great -philosopher, pass away in total silence. Genius has always the right to -exact a certain homage, and Victor Consin had genius, though not, in our -judgment, the true philosophical genius. We have attempted no regular -exposition or refutation of his philosophy; our only aim has been to call -attention to his teachings on those points where he seemed to approach -nearest the truth, and on which the young and ardent philosophical student -most needs to be placed on his guard, to bring out and place in a clear -light certain elements of philosophic truth which he failed to grasp. We -place not philosophy above faith, but we do not believe it possible to -construct it without faith; we yet hold that it is necessary to every one -who would understand the faith or defend it against those who impugn it. If -on any point what we have said on the occasion of the departure of the -founder of French eclecticism shall serve to make the truth clearer to a -single ingenuous and earnest inquirer, we shall thank God that he has -permitted us to live not wholly in vain. - - ------- - - Original. - - Praises Of The Blessed Sacrament. - - Imitated from Madame Swetchine. - - - O vault of heaven, clear and bright! - All spangled o'er with stars to-night, - Canst say how many worlds of light - Adorn thy glorious firmament? - - For here I long my voice to raise - To him who hath my heart always. - And fain would know how oft to praise - The sweet, All Holy Sacrament. - -{348} - - O shining sun! for every ray - That from thee beamed since Eden's day, - And shall, till this world pass away, - And all thy light and heat be spent: - - For each bright ray my voice I'd raise - To him who hath my heart always, - And sing a canticle of praise - To this Most Holy Sacrament. - - O trackless sea! could I but save - And count each short-lived glist'ning wave; - Their sum would tell how oft I crave - To praise the Blessed Sacrament. - - O fields! for every grassy blade - Of which thy beauteous robe is made, - Let offerings sweet of praise be laid - Before the Blessed Sacrament. - - O pleasant gardens! could I know - How many flowers within you grow: - So many flowers of praise I'd strew - Before the Blessed Sacrament. - - O wide, wide world! canst tell to me - How many grains of dust in thee? - So many would my praises be - To this Most Holy Sacrament. - - O earth! thy praises have an end; - To seraphs I the task commend. - Their tireless voices they must lend - To praise the Blessed Sacrament. - - Eternity! duration long! - To thee alone it doth belong - To measure when should cease the song - That lauds the Blessed Sacrament! - ------- - -{349} - - From Chambers's Journal. - - Architecture Of Birds. - - -If we desire to look upon something which the first inhabitants of our -planet saw exactly as it is to-day, we have only to stand before a bird's -nest. Your bird is no innovator: he laid down the plan of his dwelling at -the creation of the world, and, while everything around him has been -changing, assuming new forms, yielding to the influence of fashion, has -remained content with his primitive architecture ever since. He calculates -the number, and considers the necessities of his family, and with unerring -sagacity provides for them all. He imitates none of his neighbors, and his -neighbors, in their turn, display no inclination to imitate him. There is -in our rural districts a tradition of a farmer's daughter, who, having -observed her mother winnow at a certain barn-door, stuck to the same -locality through life, without the slightest reference to the quarter from -whence the wind blew. So exactly is it with the bird. He cares for nothing -but his own ideas of comfort, convenience, suitability--whether the -original type of his mansion necessitated its being built on the summit of -a rook or a tree, under the eaves of a house, or in the thick foliage of a -bush, in the crevice of a cliff, or amid the rustling grass of a meadow. - -To study the habitations of birds is to traverse the whole extent of man's -universal habitation, through every zone from the equator to the polar -circle; from the tops of the highest ranges, amid unscalable crags and -snows, to the sedgy margin of the sea, and the mossy banks of streams. -Whenever the air is fanned by a wing--wherever eggs are deposited-- -wherever little bills are opened almost hourly for food--wherever the hen -sits, and the male bird roves and toils to support her--wherever, from -bough or twig, he pours music into the woods, to cheer his helpmate during -her labor of love, there is poetry; whether, as on the lofty surface of -Danger Island, or amid the flowery bogs of the Orinoco, the airy artisan -works in solitude, or, on village roof and church spire, clings to the -vicinity of man. Naturalists gravely inform us that birds are bipeds like -ourselves, which in some cases may be thought to account for their fondness -for our society, as with the sparrow, the swallow, the red-breast, and the -martin; but, on the other hand, several members of this numerous family, -though they boast of no more legs than we, make careful use of those they -have to keep out of our way. Even among the swallow tribe, there is one -remarkable branch which abjures the man-loving qualities of his -congeners--we mean the sea-swallow of the Twelve Thousand Islands, which in -breeding-time mounts high into the air, takes a scrutinizing survey of the -earth beneath, and, selecting for his quarters the least frequented, -descends, skims into some lofty cave, and there builds his procreant -cradle. In this way he hopes to elude observation. Flattering himself that -his whereabouts will remain undiscovered, he darts away with his wife to -their favorite element the ocean, where it breaks upon solitary shores, -and, flying along its crested surges, gathers from amid the foam and spray -the materials of its dwelling, the nature of which still remains unknown. -Whatever it may be, it forms a delicate bassinet in which to deposit its -eggs and rear its young. Less white than alabaster, the nest of the -sea-swallow is of a light color, and semi-transparent, odoriferous in -smell, glutinous, and rather sweet to the taste. -{350} -Rows of these little bowls, which look like so many vessels of porcelain, -run along the rocky walls of caverns, and are filled with a thickly -bedropped with spots of celestial blue. To the people of the Flowery Land, -these nests are a delicacy, which, when of the best quality, are weighed in -the market against gold. What, however, renders some nests better than -others is uncertain; it may be that in parts of the ocean the ingredient -which imparts the most delicate flavor to the substance is not to be found; -or else, on shore, the flowers that supply the perfume are too few, so that -the swallow is compelled to have recourse to blossoms of inferior -sweetness. - -From the mouth of the swallow's cave, you may sometimes, from a long -distance, discern another and very different specimen of ornithological -building. This is a mound, sometimes sixty or seventy feet in length, -almost as much in diameter, and about six feet high. This also is a nest, -or rather a city of nests, for it is constructed so as to receive a whole -republic of birds, who, as in a well-ordered state, have all their separate -dwellings, with streets, highways, common chambers, breeding apartments, -and so on. In some, there you find callow citizens, or fledglings, or eggs, -or the grave parents of the state, discussing or meditating upon its common -interests. Nothing can be more curious than a section of such a bird mound, -with its various cells and compartments laid open to the view. - -From this cyclopean style of architecture, the distance is prodigious to -the house of the tailor-bird, which selects for its habitation the inside -of a leaf, and with its bill and claws sews its house to it. It takes a -filament of fine grass, and, steadying the leaf with one of its feet, uses -its bill for a needle, or rather for a borer; then, having made a little -hole, it introduces the grassy filament into the edge of the leaf, and -afterward doing as much for the other edge, weaves between both a sort of -herring-bone netting, strong enough to support its nest. Within this net it -immediately begins building until it has wrought a small soft purse, -sufficiently capacious to contain the female and her eggs. The habitation -being completed, she enters tail foremost, leaving her little head and bill -visible at the top of the purse, situated directly under the leaf's stem, -and forthwith commences her maternal duties. Now begins the business of the -male, which flies backward and forward in search of such delicacies as his -lady loves; and, having been successful, approaches the leaf, and, with -true martial tenderness, puts them gently into the female's mouth. He then -seats himself upon a branch overhead, and, watching his helpmate as she -swings to and fro in her airy couch, twitters or sings incessantly to keep -up her spirit's. - -Among us, the most accomplished bird-architect is the wren, which, in -compliment to his building powers, is by our neighbors called the -_roitelet_, or little king; and certainly no king has a more -comfortable dwelling. The most flexible grass roots, the finest grass, the -softest moss, the most delicate down from its own breast, constitute the -materials of this beautiful structure, which forms a perfect sphere of dark -emerald green. This edifice has two doors, one at which the little king or -queen enters, the other through which it emerges when it desires to stretch -its wings or plume its feathers. When at home, the point of the bill and -the tip of the tail are visible at the opposite entrances, while the -vaulted roof protects it from raindrops, and assists in concentrating the -heat by which the regal fledglings are hatched. The builder of St. Paul's, -when projecting his magnificent dome, may have taken a hint from his -ancestors the wrens. But, unwilling to accumulate all her gifts on one of -her children, nature has left the _roitelet_ quite without the power -of charming Madame Wren by his voice, a fact to which Shakespeare alludes -where he says: - - "The nightingale, if she should sing by day, - When every goose is cackling, would be thought - No better musician then the wren." - -{351} - -But this unmusical character does not belong to all the varieties of the -wren, since there is one kind which may be regarded as a songster. With -respect to external appearance, there are few northern birds more favored -than the golden-crested wren, the feathers of whose crest, as they glance -and quiver, look like sprays of burnished gold in the sunbeams. The war -recently declared against these little people is as absurd as it is cruel. -Supposed to be the gardener's enemies, they have been hunted down without -pity or remorse; whereas, instead of destroying the fruit, they only eat -the insects which do really destroy it, and should therefore be esteemed as -little winged scavengers, who clear away from gardens very much that is -pernicious. If we understood our own interest, we should look upon our -diminutive ally, not exceeding two drachms in weight, much as the Turks do -upon the stork, which they reverence for its filial piety. If contempt can -dwell within breasts so small, the wren must surely feel it for the stone -curlew, which, too ignorant or too lazy to build a nest at all, lays its -eggs on the bare ground, where they are crushed by Hodge's foot or by the -plough. - -The country people in France love the song of the wren, which is most -agreeable in the month of May, that being the breeding-season. In many -French provinces, the rustics entertain so great a respect for the -_roitelet_, that they not only abstain from injuring it, but will not -so much as touch its nest, built sometimes against the sides of their -houses or stables, though generally a thick bush or full-foliaged tree is -preferred. Like nearly all other birds, the wren takes a fancy to some -particular locality, where it will construct its habitation, in spite of -dangers and difficulties. Its eggs, from ten to twelve in number, are about -the size of peas, and when they are hatched it becomes so fierce and -pugnacious that it will attack large birds, and put them to flight by the -punctures of its sharp bill. It is the smallest of European birds, and -holds, therefore, with us the place which the humming-bird occupies in Asia -and America. This diminutive creature, which is as ingenious as it is -affectionate, forms its tiny nest with cotton or fine, silky filaments, -which it twines and arranges so as to afford the softest conceivable couch -for its eggs, which never exceed two in number, and resemble small white -beads, dotted with bright yellow. The young, when they first emerge from -the shell, are little larger than flies, and perfectly naked, though a fine -down soon appears upon the skin, which gradually ripens into feathers so -brilliant and dazzling in color as not to be exceeded by the rarest gems, -or even by the tints of the rainbow. So great, in fact, is the beauty of -these birds, that the ladies of the countries in which they abound suspend -them instead of diamonds as drops to their earings. - -Tiny as the humming-bird is, neither the eagle nor the condor exceeds it in -love for its young. A French missionary, during his residence in Surinam, -took a humming-bird's nest in which the young were just hatched, and placed -it on the sill of an open window in a cage. The parents, as he conjectured, -followed their young, and brought them food, the male and female by turns, -which they introduced between the bars of the cage. At length, finding that -no attempt was made to harm them, they grew fond of the place, and perching -upon the top of the cage, or flying about the room, rewarded the worthy -priest by their music for the delicate fare he soon learned to provide for -them. This was a sort of soft paste made of biscuit, Spanish wine, and -sugar, and nearly transparent. Over this they passed their long tongues, -and when they had satisfied their hunger, either fell asleep or burst forth -into song. Familiarity, if it did not in their case breed contempt, at -least banished all apprehension, for they alighted on the priest's head, or -perched on his finger, where their long rainbow-like tails floated like -little ribbons in the air. But all earthly pleasures have an end; a rat ate -up the humming-birds, nest and all, and left the poor missionary to seek -for new companions. - -{352} - -Down among the coral-reefs in the Southern Pacific you meet with other bird -structures, which in their way deserve equal attention. Here the sea-eagles -build their nests, always, if possible, in the same islet, and, if there be -such a convenience, on the same tree. On a small wild flat in the ocean, -too confined to allure inhabitants, and apparently too arid for vegetation, -there grew nevertheless one tree, on which a pair of fishing-eagles erected -their dwelling. There these lords of the waves, contemplating their vast -empire, sat aloft in their eyrie, male and female, looking at their eggs, -and dreaming of the future. Our readers will remember the Raven's Oak, -which the woodman, whose brow like a penthouse hung over his eyes, felled -and floated down the course of the river. So it was with the tree of the -fishing-eagles; some savage applied his axe to the stem, and down it came, -though, it is to be presumed, not while the young eagles were in the nest, -for the mother did not break her heart, neither did the father follow the -timber with vindictive pertinacity. On the contrary, having consulted his -helpmate, he took up his lodgings in a bush, and there provided as well as -he could for the support and comfort of his heirs and successors. There -might be tall trees at no great distance, there might also be islands -larger and prettier; but he was born on this sandy flat; he therefore loved -it, and stuck to it, and, had it not provided him with a bush, he would -have built his nest on the sand. Such, over some creatures, is the power of -locality. The higher the nature, the more extensive become the sympathies, -so that to some it is enough if they can rest anywhere on this globe. They -love the planet in general, but would like, if they could, to make a -country excursion from it to Jupiter, Sirius, or Canopus, just by way of -exercising their wings. - -We have seen the humming-bird building in a little garden shrub, the -tailor-bird in the folds of a leaf; but there is one of their family which -selects a far more extraordinary situation, in order to place its young -beyond the reach of vermin. Selecting the tallest tree within the range of -its experience, it weaves for itself a sort of long pouch with a narrow -neck, and suspends it to the point of a bare twig some sixty or seventy -feet from the ground. There, in its pensile habitation, it lays its eggs, -warms them into life, and when the callow brood begin to open their bills, -feeds them fifty or sixty times in the day with such dainties as their -constitutions require. This bird is the _Aplonis metallica_, about the -size of a starling, with plumage of a dark glossy green, interfused with -purple, which gives forth as it flies bright metallic reflections. The -aplonis is gregarious, like man, since it loves to build its nest in the -close neighborhood of other creatures of its own species, so that you may -often behold fifty nests on the same tree, waving and balancing in the air. -On the plain beneath, the aplonis sees from its nest the long necked emu -flying like the wind before the hunter, immense flights of white pigeons, -or the shy and active bower-bird constructing its palace, four feet long by -almost two feet in height, where it eats berries with its harem, brings up -its offspring, and, darting hither and thither before the savage, seeks to -allure him away from its home. All the shrubs, and vines, and low thickets -in the vicinity are haunted by perroquets no larger than sparrows, whose -plumage, gorgeous as the brightest flowers, may be said to light up the -woods. - -The only European bird that builds a pensile nest is one of the family that -we familiarly denominate toun-tits. This liliputian architect is as choice -in his materials as he is skilful in the arrangement of them--his bases, -his arches, his metopes, and architraves consist of cobwebs, the finest -mosses, the most silky grasses, which are woven, and twisted, and matted -together, so as to defy the drenching of the most pitiless storms, while -within, his wife and little ones recline on beds of down as soft as the -breast of a swan. -{353} -Scarcely less genius is displayed by the magpie, which, having constructed -its dwelling with extraordinary care, covers it with a sheath of thorns, -which, bristling all round like quills upon the fretful porcupine, -effectually defend it from the approach of insidious enemies. The portal to -this airy palace is at a little distance scarcely visible; but if you -diligently observe, you will perceive the magpie dart swiftly between the -thorns, and disappear beneath his formidable _chevaux de-frise_. To -this stronghold he sometimes carries his strange thefts--his gold and -silver coins, his spoons, his sugar-tongs, and any other bright article -that strikes his fancy. Birds of the dove kind are proverbial for the -slovenly style in which they provide for their families. Putting together a -few sticks, which form a sort of rack to support their eggs, they think -they have done enough for posterity, and forthwith lay without scruple upon -this frail cradle. It may be fairly conjectured that they say to -themselves: "If man will eat my eggs, my young ones, and me, upon him be -the charge of seeing that I have decent accommodation." In the same spirit -act all the barn-door fowls, hardly taking the trouble to find a soft place -for their eggs, but laying anywhere, like the stone curlew. This reckless -depravity of the maternal instinct has generally been attributed to the -ostrich as well as to the domestic hen--but unjustly. She lays, it is true, -her eggs in the sand, but not without knowing where she puts them, and not -without visiting the same spot daily to lay a new egg, till, as the French -say, she has finished her _ponte_. If the case were otherwise, how -could we account for finding all her eggs together? Nature has informed -her, that in those warm latitudes in which she shakes her feathers, it is -quite unnecessary for her to squat upon her eggs, which the solar heat -amply suffices to hatch; indeed, so scorching is the sand of the desert, -that if she did not lay her family hopes tolerably deep, her eggs would be -roasted instead of hatched. To the superficial observation of man, the -surface of the desert looks all alike--smooth, undulating, or blown up into -hillocks; but the ostrich's practised eye is able to detect the minutest -elevations in the arenaceous plain, so that she can go straight to the spot -where her first egg has been left, to deposit a second and a third close to -it. Indeed, the Arabs, who habitually traverse the waste, sometimes rival -her in keenness of perception, and take forth her treasures, while in -maternal confidence she is scouring hither and thither in search of food. - -To many others among the inferior animals, man deals forth his unthinking -reproaches. To the cuckoo, for example, he objects to her habit of -obtruding her egg or eggs into other people's premises, and leaving them -there to be hatched by sparrow, wry-neck, or starling, as the case may be. -But while bearing thus hard upon the cuckoo, he forgets the terrible curse, -under which, like another Cain, she walks about the earth, urged forward by -some resistless impulse, and condemned to the eternal repetition of two -analogous notes--cuckoo, cuckoo. What do those syllables mean? The Abbé de -Nemours, who devoted twenty years to the language of birds, or one of the -original doctors of the Hellenic mythology, might perhaps have explained, -but has not; so we must be content to regard as a mystery the secret of the -cuckoo, which in some respects resembles those _ames damnées_ which -fly for ever over the Black Sea, according to inconsiderate tradition, for -if they never paused to build nests or lay eggs, it must have been all over -with them long before this time. The cuckoo has some odd tricks which have -seldom been noted; for instance, she seems to find out some small bird's -nest, say, in a hole in the wall, too small by far for her to enter. In -this case, she squats upon the ground, lays her egg, and then, with bill or -claws, takes it up, and pokes it into the hole, after which she flies away, -shrieking her awfully monotonous song. -{354} -In a forest in France, we used day after day to watch this smoky-blue -traveller, as, in the dawn of a summer's morning, she flew across the leafy -glades, or down the glens, resting her weary feet for a moment on some -giant bough, and then shooting away through the soft green light, repeating -her strange and ominous cry. What is the original country of the cuckoo? -Has she any original country? Or is she not one of those wretched -cosmopolites who know no attachment to any hallowed spot, no love or -knowledge of parents, having been brought up by strangers, who regarded her -from her birth as an ugly changeling, thrust by some evil spirit into their -nest? Surely the cuckoo is to be pitied, since she knows no home, has never -seen a hearth, or experienced the soft care of fabricating a nest or -hatching an egg. - - ------- - - Original. - - The Father of Waters. - - -Some one has said that rivers are the great moving highways of the world. -In the earlier ages, when, from a restless and feverish impulse, whole -nations became nomadic, their migrations were doubtless influenced by the -rivers lying in their track. History tells of barbaric people that wandered -around the Euxine and along the banks of the lower Danube found their way -to central Europe. - -Before the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, rivers, and especially the -Rhine, played a considerable part in that extensive commerce which found -its way from India to the cities of the Hanseatic League. Weary caravans -brought the spices, gems, and rich fabrics of the East to the shore of the -Mediterranean, whence they were carried westward mainly by Venetian traders -timidly skirting the coast in their frail barks, venturing up rivers or -making long journeys wherever the prospect of traffic invited. The old -castles on the Rhine were built by feudal robbers, who were wont to descend -from their strongholds to plunder merchants travelling on this great -thoroughfare of mediaeval commerce. - -In time they were induced to forego the chances of occasional booty for the -payment of a stipulated toll. Doubtless the princely Hohenzollern could -trace back their genealogy to the feudal _high-toll_ barons of the -Rhine, who furnished the original idea of the modern _Zollverein_ of -Germany. _La mer, c'est l'empire_, and, after the great maritime -discoveries had opened a new route to India, it, in good part, diverted -that distant commerce from the rivers, which the ocean reaches like shining -arms over the continents as if to grasp dominion. As the elements of modern -civilization became developed, societies crystallized, and the -nationalities hitherto disturbed by migrations and conquests settled down -where we now find them, rivers came gradually to serve their legitimate -purpose of internal and international communication--a purpose resembling -that which they fulfil in the physical economy of the earth, they are the -veins which bring back to the ocean, through innumerable brooks and rills, -seeming to have their sources in the ground, yet having unseen springs in -the air, the moisture that the sun has already drawn up from the seas in -invisible buckets, and wafted away in shining clouds to be poured out in -rain or dew upon the thirsty hills. - -{355} - -Our own country, however, furnishes the best illustration of the importance -and use of rivers. Its great physical features, of which the river system -is perhaps the most striking, seem to make it a fit arena for those -wonderful triumphs over the elements and the forces of nature which it is -our privilege to enjoy. Their vastness would have intimidated races of men, -weak and cowardly from long habits of servility, superstitious, torn with -fierce passions and hatreds, and able to contend with the fatality of -material things only on that diminutive scale afforded by the physical -conformation of Europe. - -The traveller descending the lower Danube finds the ruins of old Roman -towns, Trajan's way cut for a distance of thirty miles in the steep solid -rock of the Carpathians for the passage of his Roman legions, and, below -the Iron Gate, the piers of Trajan's bridge, erected by him for the same -purpose nearly eighteen centuries ago. Hardly less remarkable are the -memorials of the bloody wars between the Christians and the Turks, the -places made memorable by the campaigns of Eugene and Suwarrow and the -Eastern war. But, excepting now and then a walled town, there are to be -seen comparatively few habitations of men, and none of that active, -sleepless life which lines the banks of our great rivers. - -There are no richer plains in the world than those of the lower Danube. Why -is it that the pent-up millions of Western Europe do not find their way -thither, as in the time of Trajan vast multitudes emigrated from slavery -impoverished Italy to that Eldorado of the Roman world? The very facility -afforded by the river for hostile inroads has driven or kept the -inhabitants from its banks, and to a great extent left them desolate -wastes. The feverish restlessness which once made barbarous nations nomadic -now seizes upon the individual; and a constant stream of immigration, -oppressed by the despotisms of the Old World, bursts forth in the midst of -us like a new fountain of Arethusa. - -And in our own country the astonishing facilities of communication afforded -by the telegraph and long lines of railroads seem to detract somewhat from -the importance of rivers. We can only appreciate their value when we think -of them in connection with the toil requisite for subduing the wilderness -and laying under contribution the resources of our country. How earnestly -and bravely our forefathers battled in this warfare, one generation taking -up the task where it was left by another, so as to subdue the land and -render possible such marvels as the Pacific railroad! Whatever may be the -social development of the human race hereafter, and however wonderful the -applications of art and science to the uses of life, will not our own age -be looked back upon as perhaps the grandest in its history? To have lived -in a period that saw the mysteries of Central Africa explained, the -continents united with telegraphic nerves, the oceans traversed with -steamships and monitors, the seas clasped together with railways, and, as -we hope, the thin air made a navigable element, will be to have enjoyed the -most startling triumphs of emotion of which the soul is capable. - -What first strikes the attention upon comparing the rivers of the New and -the Old World is the diminutive size of the latter, especially of many in -the most civilized portions of Europe, or rendered famous in classical -times. The Nile, with its ancient mysteries, its dim historic memorials of -one of the oldest civilizations, its stupendous monuments of human wisdom -and of human folly over which the centuries have brooded in solemn silence, -and its wonderful physical peculiarities, is, indeed, a magnificent river. -{356} -Reaching from the Mediterranean to the central regions of Africa, and -forming an intimate connection with its great lake and river system, it -will doubtless accomplish for that portion of Africa what the Mississippi -has done, and is now doing, in the material development of the United -States--what the Danube may also accomplish in Eastern Europe, the Amazon -in South America, and the Hoang Ho in Eastern Asia, when their expiring -strata of civilizations shall have been aroused by the restless, aggressive -spirit of modern times. The Jordan is only a mountain torrent. The Tiber -and the Po can be swum with a single arm. The Simois and Scamander, the -sacred rivers of Troy, are, like the Rubicon, the merest brooks, and would -hardly drive a saw-mill. The Cephisus can be leaped across, and the Ilissus -scarcely suffices for a few Athenian washerwomen, sorry representatives of -its nymphs and graces of old. - -The Mississippi river drains not far from a million and a quarter square -miles of territory, equal to about one third of the extent of Europe. From -the source of the Missouri, on the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, to -the Balize, is, following the windings of the river, a distance of four -thousand five hundred miles. A circular line drawn through the head waters -of the Mississippi and its chief tributaries would not be less than six -thousand miles in length. With all of its confluents the Mississippi forms -a great moving sinuous highway fully twenty-five thousand miles long, and -ploughed by many thousand steamboats. They stretch out as if to embrace the -beauty, to grasp the wealth, and gather, as into a lap, the products of the -vast region between the two mountain chains of the continent; the coal and -oil of the Alleghanies, the gold of the Rocky Mountains, the grain, lumber, -and lead of the North, and the cotton, sugar, and tropical fruits of the -South. Equally well will they serve for the distribution of the Asiatic -commerce and travel which will be poured across the continent on the -completion of the Pacific railroad. St. Louis may then become a great -distributing centre, and the same causes which have made London, Paris, -Vienna, and Pekin the commercial capitals of their respective countries, -may, in time, give that favored and opulent city the supremacy now enjoyed -by the great marts of trade on the Atlantic coast. It is hardly safe to -predict what may be the social and material, much less the intellectual -possibilities of that near period, when, gliding on "the pale iron edge," -we may jostle Chinese mandarins _en route_ for Europe, and European -money kings on their way to the Golcondas of the East. - -The lotus-eating tourist of the Nile floats dreamily along the river -between quaint villages and graceful palm-trees, past the pyramids, past -the deserted sites of ancient cities, past the stupendous ruins of Luxor -and Thebes. The monotony of the desert is broken by gloomy hills of -sunburnt rock, and by the narrow strip of verdure which fringes both banks -of the river. Should he push his explorations further, he will come in -contact with the barbarous negro tribes of the upper Nile, and may -encounter troops of giraffes and elephants. - -How different the objects that attract the attention of the voyage up the -Mississippi! The eye is charmed with the prospect of orange groves, of vast -fields of sugar-cane of the deepest green, and of cotton plantations whose -verdure and bloom at the proper season are only equalled in beauty by the -snow-like whiteness of the opened balls. The forests are hung with long -festoons of moss, giving them a sombre, funereal aspect. For between two -and three hundred miles, both river banks, called coasts in Louisiana, are -lined almost continuously with plantations, which, before the war, were in -a high state of cultivation and furnished homes of luxury. The region now -teeming with such active and varied life, inspired by the adjacent city of -New Orleans, is made romantic by the adventures of De Soto and La Salle, -and the wandering hither of the Acadians, known as _Cagians_ by the -Louisianians, whose sufferings in the wilderness excited even the -compassion of hostile savages. -{357} -Further up the river vast forests intervene, with here and there a -straggling town or settlement on the banks. The monotony is broken by the -sight of enormous flat-boats and rafts floating lazily down the current; -and an occasional column of black smoke rising high above the trees in the -distance indicates the presence of a steamboat, but, so crooked is the -river, it is often impossible to say whether above or below. In consequence -of the great bends, approaching boats are sometimes moving in parallel -lines in the same direction, or are absolutely diverging and running from -each other. Now and then the huge steamboat stops to land, perhaps, a -single passenger, or, at long intervals, at a wood-yard where some settler -is laying the foundation of a future fortune, the stump being usually the -first product of American industry. The rude, vigorous, untamed aspect of -the region seems, to a certain degree, to be reflected in the -characteristics of the passengers on board. Still further north the -traveller begins first to feel the pulses of that wonderful life which is -throbbing throughout the great West. Here are vast prairies waving with -fields of grain, and dotted with mounds built perhaps before the pyramids -of Egypt. Up the Missouri one will soon reach the great plains on which -roam herds of buffaloes and tribes of red men. About the head-waters of the -Mississippi and its chief confluents is to be found some of the wildest -mountain scenery on the continent. Where, upon the banks of a single river, -are to be seen such varieties of climate, scenery, and animated life? - -Very remarkable are the physical, it might almost be said paradoxical, -characteristics of the Mississippi. Its average width below Natchez is not -so great as from Natchez to Cairo. At Vicksburg, the river rises and falls -about forty feet; at New Orleans not more than twelve feet. During the -lowest stage of water, the largest ships experience but little difficulty -in crossing the bar at the passes; when the great floods have filled the -banks above to overflowing, deep-draught vessels can hardly be got over the -bar. Below the mouth of Red river streams run out of the Mississippi -instead of into it. Much of the distance below Cairo the river runs, not in -an ordinary channel between the hills, but on the crest of a ridge of its -own formation. The source of the Mississippi is about two and a half miles -nearer the centre of the earth than the mouth, thereby causing it to run -actually uphill. - -The delta of the Mississippi, properly, extends from the mouth of the Red -river to the gulf, a distance of about three hundred miles, following the -windings of the river. It has an area of about fourteen thousand square -miles, and its numerous bayous form an admirable system of natural canals. -To the delta really belongs the left bank of the river below Manshac, where -the bayou Manshac formed an outlet from the Mississippi to lake -Pontchartrain, until it was closed by General Jackson in the war of 1812, -to prevent the British getting into the river above New Orleans. The bayou -could not be reopened without jeopardizing the safety of the city. A -crevasse some distance above New Orleans, a few years ago, inundated the -back streets. Skiffs took the place of omnibuses, and when the waters -subsided some of the residents were surprised to find alligators -"herbivorating" in their gardens. There is also a large partially alluvial -tract west of the Atchafalaya, which covers the wonderful salt mine of -Petit Aunce Island, and out through which ooze the petroleum springs of -Calcasieu, where the Cagians have long been in the habit or greasing the -axles of their rude carts. - -Extending from the mouth of the Red river to a point above Cairo is the -great alluvial plain of the Mississippi, varying from thirty to fifty miles -in width, and containing a territory of about seventeen thousand square -miles. -{358} -The bluffs retreat from the east side of the river in many places, making -room for rich bottom lands, and touch the river only at one point on the -west side, namely, at Helena, Arkansas. From Cairo to the Balize is by the -river almost twelve hundred miles, while in a straight line it is only five -hundred. The frequent changes in the bed of the Mississippi, caused by -"cut-offs," where it forces a channel through a narrow neck of land around -which it has hitherto flowed in a wide circuit, have left numerous -semicircular lakes and _fausses rivières_, whose tranquil waters -abound with alligators and wild fowl. - -The soil of the delta is filled with whole trees deposited while it was in -process of formation. A sudden change in the direction of the river -sometimes unearths the trunks, standing erect and close together, as if -they had grown where they are found. While boring an artesian well in New -Orleans, they came upon a solid cypress log nearly five hundred feet below -the surface. The Mississippi is said to be, geologically, one of the oldest -rivers on the globe. We happened to be with Professor Hyrtl of Vienna a few -years ago, when be received, as a contribution to his unequalled museum of -natural history, a couple of _ganoid_ fishes, now to be found only in -the "father of waters." They were clad in coats of mail, fitting them for -existence in bodies of water dashed about by conflicting tempests and -currents and convulsed by the upheavals of the earth. At the base of the -obelisk of Heliopolis, erected by Sesostris four thousand years ago, one -can see that, during that long interval of time, the valley of the Nile has -been raised about nine feet around the monument. A friend of mine, engaged -in sinking a shaft in the alluvium over the salt mine of Petit Aunce -Island, recently exhumed the skeleton of a mastodon, and the rude -implements and traces of the habitation of a people that must have passed -away centuries ago. Skirting the delta on the gulf shore are vast -shell-banks, consisting entirely of millions upon millions of cubic yards -of small sea-shells. The popular superstition of the country ascribes their -origin to the Indians, who came down to the coast for subsistence and -deposited the shells where they are now found. But their existence in such -vast quantities, in a purely alluvial region, is one of the curious -problems of geology. In view of these facts, what ages upon ages is the -mind carried back by the formation of the delta and the great alluvial -plain of the Mississippi, to that far-off time when the place they now -occupy was covered with a silent sea in which floundered the ichthyosauri -of the pre-Adamic period! - -The most remarkable feature of the lower Mississippi, and that which gives -origin to very many of the peculiarities already mentioned, is the annual -rise of its waters in consequence of the rain and melting of the snow -above. Egypt owes its fruitfulness in great part to the sediment yearly -deposited by the Nile wherever it overflows the land. We saw _fellahs_ -scattering seed upon the fresh and scarcely uncovered ooze, almost in the -shadow of the Great Pyramid, and treading it in with oxen, as mentioned by -Herodotus. The side canals are filled when the flood is at its height, and -every possible means is employed to retard the fertilizing waters for -irrigation, as rain very rarely falls. Just below the head of the delta an -immense _barrage_, or dam, has been built across both the Damietta and -Rosetta branches of the Nile, for the purpose of keeping back the flood. -When the Nilometer indicates that the river has risen to a certain height, -there is rejoicing throughout Egypt, a plentiful harvest being safely -predicted from a full river. - -It is directly the reverse along the Mississippi. The planter depends upon -the rains, not upon irrigation; upon the accumulated alluvial richness of -former ages, and not upon the annual deposit of the river. He does not -invite an overflow, but labors to prevent it by every means in his power. -{359} -A low stage of water, like that of 1864, is hailed as a providential -blessing. The unprecedented floods of the present year have swept away -millions of dollars worth of property, and produced extreme misery. - -The lower Mississippi generally begins to rise in November or early in -December, and, with rare exceptions, attains the maximum volume in April or -May. The rise is at first gradual, and usually comes from the tributaries -below the Ohio. As the season advances, the rains and the melting of the -winter snows enlarge the Tennessee, the Cumberland, the Ohio, and the upper -Mississippi, whose freshets, often amounting to devastating floods, and -sometimes becoming vast inundations, are successively poured into the lower -Mississippi. Finally, and sometimes as late as June, the Missouri -contributes the drainage of the great plains and of the eastern slope of -the Rocky Mountains. Descending steamboats, which have overtaken and passed -the rise, announce the coming of a great tidal wave bringing possible -destruction with it. The _bottures_ of the lower river are first -covered, the banks are rapidly filled, and the torrent of foaming and -turbid waters begins to rush down with accumulated velocity. Immense -quantities of driftwood are drawn into the swiftest part of the current, in -a continuous line that twists and writhes in the tortuous channel like a -great black serpent, or is, day after day, whirled round in vast eddies, as -at Port Hudson. Many a Federal soldier who has stood guard on the banks of -the Mississippi will remember the great trees, with roots and branches high -in the air, that floated down in grim processions, and in the gloom and -darkness of the night seemed to glide past like spectral fleets. As the -river rises, immense bodies of water escape from the natural channel and -flow away into the swamps of Arkansas, Mississippi, and upper Louisiana. -The low alluvial plain of the Mississippi becomes a vast reservoir. Without -this, it would be impossible to control the flood below. The banks are -entirely covered, and the voyager beholds an immense lake spread out before -him, whose waters rush through the forest with a subdued and angry roar, -the wide open space between the trees alone indicating the course of the -river. And now, wherever in this vast region civilization has planted her -foot, begins that conflict between man and the elements and the forces of -nature, which in one form or another is as old as the human race. In Egypt -it was typified in the never-ending contest of Typhon and Osiris. Osiris -represented the fertile land of Egypt, the product of the Nile; Typhon, the -encroaching desert, as solitary and incomprehensible as the ocean itself, -the desert whose storms and waves or shifting sand, respecting only the -places they cannot reach, have destroyed armies and caravans, depopulated -immense regions, and turned the course of mighty rivers. The old -civilization of Egypt, the giant Antaeus of mythology, who could not be -vanquished so long as his foot touched the solid, fertile earth, interposed -enormous obstacles to the advances and inroads of the desert. Count de -Persigny wrote a book during his political imprisonment to prove that the -pyramids were built as barriers to protect the alluvial land of the Nile -from the encroaching sand of the desert. - -To progress is, everywhere, to combat. The human race maintains a perpetual -and tremendous strife with the fatality of material things, whether it be -in the form of the stubborn elements, the overwhelming forces of nature, or -the subtle, inexorable laws that govern the material world. Barbarism is a -defeat, from cowardice of spirit; civilization, a triumph over them. And -nowhere else is the conflict more terrible than where it is attempted to -control the floods that sweep down the valley of the Mississippi from the -very heart of the continent. The forces of the winds and of the ocean are -not so irresistible. It is a hand-to-hand combat, in which to be vanquished -is to be destroyed. -{360} -The thousands of miles of levees built on the banks of the Mississippi and -its great bayous, at an expense of many million dollars, are the means -employed to arrest the watery element. In some places they are between -fifteen and eighteen feet high, with a base of one hundred and twenty feet. -As the threatening river rises against them, they are put in the best -condition, and watched with the utmost care, lest the little crawfish, or -accident, a storm, or some malicious enemy should make an opening which, -ever so small at first, would rapidly enlarge into a crevasse. Sometimes -the river bank caves in, carrying away the levee, and permitting the water -to rush in uninterruptedly. In the spring of 1863 the writer of this -article rode in a carriage one evening around a point of land a few miles -above Baton Rouge, which, to the extent of several acres, disappeared -during the night. The following day the fields in the rear resembled a -large lake. Shortly after the capture of Port Hudson, a portion of the bank -slid into the river with a battery of guns. The famous citadel and many of -the rebel earthworks on those historical bluffs have since shared the same -fate. - -Should the levee, from any cause, give way, every possible effort is made -to close the breach. Planters from miles above and below hurry to the -crevasse with all their available help. Piles are driven into the ground -close together, and in two parallel rows a few feet apart, both above and -below the opening, and in such a direction as gradually to have the lines -approach each other at no great distance in the rear of the crevasse. -Between these rows of piles are thrown sacks of earth, hay, or anything -that will arrest the rushing flood. Presently the narrowing space between -the dams can be spanned with pieces of timber, and then the torrent is soon -checked and the levee replaced. - -The State of Louisiana paid last year thirty thousand dollars for closing -the Bouligny crevasse, a few miles below New Orleans. Crevasses above the -city, owing to their greater magnitude, are, however, rarely closed. An -effort was made in 1865 to rebuild the great Chim and Robinson levee, on -the right bank of the river, a short distance below Port Hudson. This -crevasse occurred in 1863, and was of such enormous extent that, through -it, a river more than a mile wide and several feet deep rushed out of the -Mississippi. A steamboat, several flatboats and rafts, and vast quantities -of driftwood were swept into the irresistible torrent. It required over -three hundred thousand cubic yards of earth to replace the levee, and an -outlay or nearly one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The tremendous -flood of last April broke through the newly constructed work. The levee -commissioners refused an offer to close the crevasse for eighty thousand -dollars, and in a few days a great part of the new levee was swept away. -Deep gulches were cut in the plantations where the disaster occurred. The -ditches were filled, sandbanks formed in many places, and the sugar-cane -fields covered with the _débris_ of the Mississippi. There were two or -three crevasses of nearly equal magnitude between Port Hudson and the mouth -of Red river, and upper Louisiana, Arkansas, and Mississippi suffered -terribly from the overflow, caused in great part by the breaking away of -the newly built levees. The entire valley of Red river, whose bottoms -furnish perhaps the best cotton lands in the world, was inundated below -Jefferson, Texas. Many of the best buildings in Shreveport and Alexandria -were undermined. The planters betook themselves to the upper rooms of their -houses, and the cattle crowded together on the little knolls found here and -there on the river bank. A friend who came down during the inundation -stated that he saw at least twenty thousand animals thus perishing from -hunger, and being gradually swept away by the rising flood. At one time -thirteen parishes were said to be in great part under water. -{361} -Many millions' worth of property was destroyed, and the unstinted charity -of the Federal government to the sufferers, through the Freedmen's Bureau, -was measured only by cargoes of provisions sent to their relief. - -But the overflows of the Mississippi have this year been still more -disastrous. Instead of pouring out successive floods, Red river, the -Arkansas, the Ohio and its great tributaries, and even the upper -Mississippi have risen simultaneously and poured their mighty inundations -into the lower river. The Mississippi was at one time fifty miles wide at -Memphis, and the great alluvial plain or basin became an inland sea several -hundred miles in length. There have for some time been but few places where -landings could be made between Cairo and the mouth of Red river. Days and -even weeks must elapse after the river begins to recede at Cairo before it -can be affected at New Orleans or even at Vicksburg, so enormous is the -body of water that must find its way to the gulf. The bottom-lands of -Mississippi, especially those of the Yazoo region, and of upper Louisiana, -were nearly all under water before the delta people suffered from the -inundation. But as the irresistible flood swept down toward the gulf, levee -after levee gave way, and at present the tracts overflowed can be estimated -only by parishes and counties, the plantations only by thousands, and the -loss of property only by millions of dollars. There are nearly a dozen -crevasses between the mouth of Red river and New Orleans, not one of which -it has been possible to stop. The crevasse at Grand Levee, Morganza, is a -mile wide, and through it rushes a river twelve feet deep. To restrain the -mighty flood would require immense levees through the entire delta, several -feet higher than those already constructed. - -The parish of Tensas, the finest cotton district of Louisiana, is almost -entirely under water. The inundation extends far up the Cortableau and -almost to the rich prairies of Opelousas. The sugar plantations of -Terrebonne and Lafourche are invaded by the flood, and the Opelousas -railroad rendered useless. The rich lands of Grosse Tête, Fordoce, and the -Marangouin, for the first time in the memory of Creoles, are almost -entirely inundated. Thousands of families have been driven from their -homes. Certain districts, overflowed for three successive years, begin to -assume the appearance of a wilderness. The garfish, the alligator, and -wildfowl have, in fact, resumed possession of many of the choicest portions -of the state. Should the waters not soon subside, the product of cotton on -the bottom-lands of Louisiana and Mississippi will be very small. April is -the month for planting, and from present appearances the floods will not -begin to recede before the month of May. - -So great is the interest of the Northern States in the cotton and sugar -produced an the bottom-lands of the Mississippi, that evidently the general -government ought to assume the responsibility of rebuilding the levees on a -scale that will insure protection. This policy would be at variance with -the traditions of the government as regards internal improvements. But -neither the planters who have hitherto been assessed for nearly the entire -outlay, nor the impoverished states, are now in a condition to do what is -required. - -Of the two plans proposed far leveeing the delta of the Mississippi, one -consists in increasing the number of the bayous, or lateral outlets, and -thereby diminishing the volume of water in the main channel; the other, in -closing up all the bayous, and, with levees of sufficient strength, -retaining the floods in the natural bed of the river. In some remarks made -upon the subject by Mr. Banks in Congress, he expressed his preference for -the former theory, and intimated his intention, should the proper occasion -occur, of advocating a large appropriation by the general government to put -it in practical execution. The general government has, in fact, virtually -pledged itself to undertake the work as soon as the Southern States again -come into the Union. -{362} -Mr. Banks is well acquainted with the topography of Louisiana, and can -estimate the enormous outlay required for leveeing the bayous Lafourche and -Plaquemine, to say nothing of the Atchafalaya, and opening new outlets, -upon each of which, however small, the work would have to be done as -thoroughly and upon as vast a scale as upon the Mississippi itself. This -theory is based upon the false assumption that, in case of a bayou or a -crevasse, the depth of the river at any point below the outlet is -diminished exactly in proportion to the quantity of water taken by it from -the main channel. When the great crevasse, over a mile wide, occurred last -spring above Baton Rouge, I could not see that the volume of water at Baton -Rouge was much diminished thereby, but the current of the river was -materially lessened. When several large crevasses occur, of course, both -the volume and the current of the river below must be diminished. And the -slower the current, the greater the deposit of sediment on the bed of the -river, the effect of which is to lift up the whole body of water and -increase the tendency to overflow. The great _desideratum_ is to -prevent the formation of deposit, which can be done only by maintaining a -certain rapidity of current. The more effective and scientific plan would, -therefore, seen to be to confine the floods to a single channel by means of -levees built sufficiently far back to prevent their destruction by the -caving in of the river banks, and strong enough for any emergency. The work -of leveeing would thus be concentrated, vast areas of now useless -swamp-land would be made available, and the bayous could be used as canals -for internal communication. Nor should it be forgotten that, as the regions -bordering the tributaries of the Mississippi are settled and the forests -cleared up, the actual quantity of water drained from them is from year to -year diminished. The floods of the upper Mississippi have already been -notably affected by this general law. But disasters like those of the -present year, although exceptional, can be averted only by levees -constructed upon a gigantic scale, and, as the wilderness of the great -alluvial plain whose swamps now receive such vast quantities of water -becomes settled like the delta, the levees will have to be proportionally -enlarged. - ------- - - From The Dublin Review; - - The Church and the Roman Empire. - [Footnote 112] - - [Footnote 112: _L'Eglise et l'Empire romain au l Ve Siécle._ Par - M. Albert de Brogile, de l'Academie Francaise. Troisième - partie--Valentinien et Théodose. Paris: Didier.] - - -When we opened the two last volumes of this noble work, we fancied that, -after devoting a considerable degree of attention and study to the fruitful -events of the decline and fall of the Roman empire, we had little to learn -about its government, its institutions, manners, customs, and modes of -thought. We had felt, indeed, a strange interest in watching the slow but -sure development of Christianity, as it tumbled down, one by one, every -landmark of ancient heathenism; here forcing back the ugly iceberg into its -olden limits, there bringing forth a new and verdant vegetation to conceal -the blackening ruins of the past; now enchasing, within its virgin gold, -some relic of primitive wisdom, or again planting its wooden cross among -the wastes and forests of Germania, as a beacon for a future world. -{363} -And yet, after all, in these last volumes of Prince de Broglie we have -found much to admire and much to remember. - -Are there many books of which we could say the same? Or, in other words, -are there many that would so amply repay the trouble of perusing them? - -Whoever undertakes to read any work of serious importance, whatever its -nature and subject, will do well to ask himself, when he comes to the -conclusion, How has the author fulfilled his promises? How far has he -carried out his plan, how far justified his pretensions to impartiality, if -we have to do with a historian? The reader will not therefore be astonished -that we should apply the same rule to the work now before us. When Prince -Albert de Broglie started upon his now completed undertaking, what was his -main view and object he himself shall answer -in the words he penned in 1852: - - "The mild and intelligent influence of the church was never more striking - than when she came forth for the first time on the stage of the world. - ... In the days when Jesus Christ was born in an obscure town of Judaea, - the empire was pacified, the Roman laws established on a sound basis, the - Roman manners polished and refined unto corruption; the Roman empire had - acquired its utmost development beyond the pale of Christianity, under - the shadow of a false worship and of false gods. Everything bore the - stamp of idolatry. The civil and political laws, founded first of all by - those patricians who were alike priests and lawyers, and then by those - Caesars whose supreme pontificate was deemed their prime dignity, were in - every direction pervaded by polytheism. Arts, letters, private manners, - all was heathen. Not a temple but acknowledged the protection of a - divinity--not a poem but embalmed its memory--not a banquet but began - with a libation--not a home but kindled a fire sacred to the Lares. Being - thus totally independent of Christianity, this civilization was - foredoomed to become its enemy--fate, indeed, to which it had not been - found wanting. Roman society, giving up for once its usual habits of - political toleration, had heaped upon Christianity contempt and insults - and persecutions without end. For three long centuries, Christianity had - grown up through ignominy and bloodshed. Wise men had scoffed at it, - politicians chastised it, the mob hooted it fiercely and savagely. The - blood of the martyrs had defiled the basis of the finest edifices in - Rome, whilst the smoke of the burning stake had blackened their crowning - frontispieces. - - "So, when the progress of truth, supported by the revolutions of - politics, had at last made the church triumphant with Constantine, what a - favorable opportunity and how many excellent reasons had she for - overthrowing all this profane and sacrilegious civilization! If, on the - very morrow of her triumph, the church had declared open war to Roman - society, if she had fired its monuments, broken to pieces its statues, - burnt its libraries, overthrown its laws--all this would have been but a - lawful deed of reprisal. ... Both means and motives were equally - plentiful for this summary justice. Without any appeal to the ardor of - new converts, the forests of Germany held within their wastes a reserve - of wild auxiliaries, ever ready to undertake the task on their own - account. The empire had already received its death-blow, through its own - internal anarchy, and through the barbarian invasions. The church stood - in no need of dealing the fatal blow--she had but to let it fall. ... - This, however, the prudent and tender mother of the human race did by no - means do. She looked upon Roman civilization not as the cursed gift of an - evil spirit, but as the motley product of human labor. As is the case - with every creation of a fallen being, there must needs be found hidden - behind the mists of error certain rays of light which were not to be - extinguished, but, on the contrary, brought back within the ever-burning - focus of eternal truth. Peacefully settling down in the midst of the - imperial society, taking up her abode in Rome itself, whilst Constantine - flew from the city, as if afraid of the old genius of the republic, the - church, far from destroying anything, adopted all, correcting and - reforming all by her own insensible influence, raising the victorious - sign of the cross above every monument, and breathing the healthy warmth - of Christian inspiration into every law. The fourth century of the - Christian era is not only remarkable for the men of genius by whom it was - illustrated. What is a constant subject of admiration, and what I should - not be astonished to see some future historian investigate hereafter more - deeply, is that slow labor of purification and absorption to which the - Christian religion subjected heathen civilization. It is this - transformation of a whole society, not by any material conquest, but - through the influence of a moral doctrine, which I shall attempt to bring - forth in the following picture." [Footnote 113] - - [Footnote 113: V. i., Avertissement, pp. i-v.] - -{364} - -Most certainly the whole work is but the grand demonstration of the above -outline, but nowhere does it come forth in such glowing characters as in -the two last volumes. There is hardly a page in which you do not meet with -this silent yet ever-rising tide of Christian ascendency, which ends in -mastery over every relic of Roman civilization. In vain does the temporal -power struggle to maintain its own ground; it is itself hurried on with the -stream, and forced to give up the contest in sheer despair. At the distance -of sixteen centuries, we are often reminded of what took place at the dawn -of our own age; and, could we but change names, we might almost imagine we -have before us certain modern figures familiar to every reader. Let us -take, for instance, Valentinian I., who ascended the imperial throne in 364 -A.C., and chose for associate his brother Valens, as the ruler of the East. -Valentinian was a sturdy soldier, an austere Christian, of no original -genius, but yet endowed with such qualities as were not unequal to his -difficult task. - - "Of a cold disposition, inclined to enforce the laws and good order--no - less severe to himself than to others--he was sober, upright, and - chaste. Though a good soldier and a good speaker, he had not the - slightest pretension to wit, nor even to glory. He was a plain - matter-of-fact ruler, governing the empire just as he would have done a - legion, with a simplicity and a roughness of character exclusively - military; showing a harshness that bordered upon cruelty, when he deemed - it necessary to the interests of the public service, and yet by no means - prompt to avenge his own personal injuries; a man, in fact, having but - few wants and no taste for pomp or display, though rigorous beyond - measure to replenish the coffers of the state, and to balance the - receipts with the outlays of the treasury," (pp. 8, 9.) - -Valentinian was in the height of manhood when he was clothed with the -imperial purple; but if he felt no exultation, he evinced a keen jealousy -for the maintenance of his newly acquired power, hardly allowing a mere -suggestion as to its use and exercise. That jealousy and mistrust were -extended even to the high influence of the church itself. The very first -year of his reign offers numerous traces of that spirit of universal -toleration which has become the idol of our modern reformers, yet which was -so repugnant to the ideas and feelings of the old Roman world. - -Succeeding to Jovian, having witnessed the vagaries of Julian, under whom -he had even suffered persecution, the new emperor indeed began by relieving -his fellow-believers from their sundry disabilities, but at the same time -he put every other form of religious belief on a footing of rigorous -equality with Christianity. Thus, if he takes from the heathens the temples -which the Apostate had bestowed upon them, these temples became state -property, instead of being restored to the Christians--Valentinian so -establishing, observes Prince de Broglie, a sort of neutral power between -the two contending doctrines. Thus, again, the public schools are opened to -all, the clerical immunities and privileges are kept within narrow bounds, -the heathen sacrifices are scarcely prohibited; in fact, the most assiduous -precautions were taken in order to prevent the very appearance of any -subordination of the temporal government to sacerdotal influence. This was, -doubtless, a new feature in the sovereign, which took every one by -surprise, though many considered it to show a sound policy and practical -wisdom. And yet, this very attitude of Valentinian toward the church was -but a proof of his real weakness, as the general incidents of his reign -were destined to show in strong colors. Valentinian's immediate object was -to establish the full and total independence of the secular government. In -reality, he rendered still more evident in the eyes of the world its utter -helplessness to guard and defend its most important privileges. -Thenceforward, to stand aloof from the church on the plea of state policy -was an utter impossibility. -{365} -On the contrary, an alliance with the church was a matter of positive -necessity, for no other power in the world could, like her, play the part -of a most useful and efficient auxiliary. Valentinian was to learn this at -the outset of his reign. - -He had hardly arrived at Milan, the capital of the western empire, when he -had to encounter the insuperable difficulties of his finely balanced -system. A contest had arisen between the Arian bishop Auxentius and the -great Hilary of Poitiers. The latter used his utmost endeavors to correct -the evils attendant upon the persecution lately raised by the Emperor -Constans; but Hilary was by no means disposed to overlook the delinquencies -of courtier prelates, who changed their belief according to the whim and -will of every new sovereign. Such was Auxentius, who after showing himself -a zealous Arian, now displayed no less zeal in his recantations, which did -not, however, at all deceive his own flock. The Milanese were steadfast in -their opposition to the ever-changing prelate, and Hilary no less staunchly -encouraged them in their resistance. - -According to Valentinian's system, he should and would have remained -neutral between the two antagonists. But such an amount of indifference was -not in the habits of the Roman administration. There was nothing so -contrary to public order, said many an imperial adviser, as these -conventicles of the flock against their pastor, above all when backed by -the influence of a foreigner. Since Auxentius consented to sign the -orthodox formula, and thus to do away with every vestige of past -dissensions, why should others obstinately endeavor to perpetuate them? -This was a matter of police regulations, not a question of belief. When -people were all of the same opinion, why should not they meet together to -pray in the same church? - -We can almost imagine that we are reading a memoir sent up by a French -prefect to his minister, for the purpose of playing the umpire between some -priest and his bishop. At any rate, Valentinian found the advice so -conformable to his own ideas, that he unwittingly issued an edict -prohibiting the Christians to attend at any ceremony of their worship, -except in such places as were subjected to the bishop's jurisdiction. -Hilary immediately applied to the emperor himself, and soon showed him his -error, which was, however, followed by another step of a still graver -character. He ordered that the question should be examined by a committee -of ten bishops and two secular magistrates. Auxentius, on being confronted -with Hilary, made every admission that was required; yet the latter had -scarcely turned his back when the equivocating prelate recanted once more -his recantations, and maligned the Bishop of Poitiers to the emperor. His -aspersions were but too successful, for Hilary was denied a second -audience, and was commanded to leave the town immediately. - -The prelate obeyed as a subject, but as a bishop he had a right to speak, -and he spoke with a freedom worthy of such a man. His letter, apparently -addressed to the public, in reality was a bold protest against the -emperor's interference in religious affairs. We doubt whether Constantine -would have submitted to such language, which, however, is a landmark -showing the progress of Christian ideas as to the relations of the -spiritual and the temporal power. But it was the last episcopal act of the -great pontiff, who died shortly after. - -It is not merely in this direction that we see Christianity gradually -asserting its ascendency in the Roman world. Slowly, but surely, the -patriciate was yielding to its influence. Accustomed, as we are, to -consider the Roman aristocracy as totally effete during the latter period -previous to the fall of the empire, we can hardly fancy to ourselves that -its grandees were anything else but the degenerate posterity of the -Cornelii, the Anicii, and other illustrious _gentes_, of ancient Rome. -There were, indeed, so many links connecting them with olden forms and -idolatrous ordinances, that to couple them with the new belief seems -something bordering on anachronism. -{366} -And yet the fact really stands thus: Partly through the effect of example, -partly through ambition, and partly through an imperious conviction, whole -races had embraced the doctrines and practices of Christianity, and soon -found out, to their own astonishment, that they recovered at once an -unexpected share of illustration and power. - - "Christianity, says Prince de Broglie, renewed their influence, by - throwing over it a sort of second youth. The day before their baptism, - they were wont to squander away their wealth among a motley _plebs_ - to gain the bauble of a useless title; on the morrow their charities, - scarcely more abundant, but distributed by the discerning hand of the - priest, insured them, on the part of the less degraded Christians, a - prouder yet more lasting gratitude. Their slaves being gradually - emancipated, and prepared for freedom by a pious education, soon formed - around them a devoted army. They were no more that vile race of - freed-men, a true scourge to the empire, ever ready to pass from an - abject servility to the basest treachery. They were all the children of - Adam, redeemed by Jesus Christ, in whom their masters revered the - remembrance of a primitive equality and the stamp of a newly restored - dignity. Within a short time, the authority of the Christian patricians - extended far beyond Rome. Having once become members of an association - the most extensive and, indeed, the only one then organized throughout - the empire, they found themselves by the very fact placed at the head of - a powerful party. Since Athanasius, in the days of his exile, had found - an asylum in the dwellings of the Roman senators, the Christians of every - country were in the habit of applying from the depths of Egypt or of - distant Asia to the illustrious families in the capital, whenever they - had a church to build, a convent to establish, some ruin to prevent, or - some disaster to retrieve; and the alms which usually followed the - application were abundantly repaid in popularity and thankfulness. One - might compare them to some old trunks falling into decay through the - effect of time; should their roots, whilst shooting forth, meet with a - rich vein of alluvial soil, they send up a youthful sap, which adorns - with a wreath of verdure their dying branches and their blackening - limbs." (pp. 23, 24.) - -Such was the society in which an Ambrose and a Jerome were formed and -brought up--the one learning all those arts and traditions that made him -hereafter such an attractive compound (if we may be allowed the term) of -sanctity and statesmanship; the other of a more ardent and restless -disposition, as if he had brought from his native forests of Dalmatia -something of the fierce wildness of the barbarian. Jerome, though a sincere -Christian, did not then conform his conduct to his belief; he rather -yielded alternately to the allurements of pleasure or to the suggestions of -a repentant spirit. He himself tells us that be thirsted for knowledge, -being ever on the wing, passing from the Capitol to the Catacombs; almost -equally impassioned for the Gospel or for Homer; reading by turns the -Scriptures with the fervor of an anchoret or the disdain of an Athenian -orator. But still he clung with fondness to the best Roman society, where -he was an habitual guest and companion. There is hardly any part of the -empire, or any one of its institutions, in which we do not find this -all-pervading influence of Christianity. But nowhere, perhaps, is it more -evident than in the laws. Volumes have been written upon this subject, and -the most lamentable pictures have been drawn of the wretched state of the -Roman population, ground down at once by heavy taxation, by the oppression -of local governors, and exposed to all the horrors of repeated invasions. -Their condition was so melancholy that they fled to the barbarians, among -whom they enjoyed more real freedom and greater security than under the -rule of their lawful sovereign. Valentinian distinguished himself among -many other princes by his extreme severity in the enforcement of the fiscal -laws; he hardly admitted any plea or excuse when the treasury was to be -replenished; far better than anyone he felt the difficulties of his -position, when he had to encounter the numberless enemies of his empire. -But he had hardly secured by the most severe measures the public resources -in men and money when a reaction ensued. An immense complaint and wailing, -says our author, ascended to the throne from every region, and the prince -was obliged to bind the very wounds he had inflicted--nay, to countermand -the measures which he had adopted under the imperious claims of the public -security. - -{367} - -Among these laws or decrees tending to soothe the pangs of a suffering -nation, we must note several that bear evident traces of a Christian -inspiration. Thus, close to a law binding the tenant to the land on which -he is condemned to live and die, we find another defending him against the -excessive pretensions of the landowner. Elsewhere, if the authority of the -judges is duly enforced, minute precautions are taken against their -accidental or interested errors; they are ordered to enact their sentences -in public, prohibited from holding property within the limits of their -residence, and threatened with severe penalties if they should listen to -the insinuations of informers. At the same time, physicians were appointed -to attend the poor in large towns at the expense of the treasury, and other -measures of a similar character were carried, all betraying a benevolent -disposition totally unknown to the heathen world. - -We must refer to the author's pages for many other instances of innovations -in which we detect the increasing influence of Christianity, and draw the -reader's notice to one of the most remarkable institutions of those times, -out of which grew perhaps the ecclesiastical principalities of the feudal -ages. As there was a constant stream of grievances and claims sent up from -the provinces to the crown, Valentinian thought proper to appoint an -official defender of their rights, _defensor civitatis_. - - "Such was the title of a new office, which appears for the first time in - 365, filling an intermediate station between the _curia_, or - municipality, and the treasury. The duties of this new agent were - twofold, and well adapted to the high-pressure mechanism which held the - _curiae_ responsible for the total amount of taxes due to the fiscus - and allowed them at the same time to fall back on the small proprietors - of the city. On the defender incumbs the duty, as a representative of the - curiales, of discussing with the state the amount of the whole - contingent; and then, with the curiales themselves, the aliquot part of - each rate-payer. Himself a stranger to the curia, he is obliged at once - to protect and keep it within bounds; to speak for it and against it; to - defend it, to lighten its burden, and to prevent it from throwing that - burden on other people's shoulders. In fact, the defender was something - like the popular tribune, whose _veto_ is now directed, not against - aristocratical influence, but against the tyranny of the administration. - In its decrepitude, the empire was returning, like many an old man, to - the habits and ways of its childhood," (p. 51, _seq_.) - -But the difficulty was to find a man of sufficient integrity, power, and -influence to hold this delicate position between the crown and the nation. -In the general downfall of public virtue, there was hardly a citizen or a -landowner capable of fulfilling such arduous duties. His magistracy was -elective; but it was soon found out that the bishop alone had both virtue -and power to withstand the fitful caprices of imperial despotism, no less -than the raging passions of the barbarians. Did Valentinian dream of such a -result when be instituted the _defensores?_ Doubtless not: and this -very fact throws a flood of light upon the real state of things at the -period we have before our eyes. - -It is not merely in the West that we thus meet with the irresistible -ascendency of Christianity, making its way both with and against temporal -power; the same spectacle awaits us in a still more striking manner in the -East. Every one is more or less familiar with the great struggle between -Arianism and the illustrious Athanasius. That contest, however, bore more -of a purely theological than of a political character, and we shall -therefore pass on to scenes of a different nature, and perhaps less known -to the general reader. The famous heresy, so like Protestantism in its main -features, was fast dwindling into a court intrigue, though fostered by the -weak arm of a Valens. Under that degenerate prince the orthodox bishops -were once more banished from their sees; but the church had already -overcome two recent persecutions, whilst the state had well nigh succumbed -to four successive revolutions. -{368} -Every man could now see with his own eyes where resided true influence and -power, so that, even in a worldly view, it was no longer safe to trust -solely to the sovereign's whim and pleasure. Valens himself was destined to -experience, in his fatal downfall, that he would have to deal alike with a -true bishop and a true statesman in the person of St. Basil, who ruled over -the diocese of Caesarea. - -The importance of Caesarea, as the ecclesiastical metropolis of Asia Minor, -was very considerable, extending its jurisdiction over the independent -exarchate of Pontus, and even beyond the limits of the empire, over Armenia -and certain parts of Persia. Valens was desirous of placing at the head of -this large see one of his Arian creatures; but at the very first rumor of -such a scandal the whole population called for Basil, who had not yet been -raised to the episcopal dignity. Shortly after, however, the old Bishop of -Caesarea offered a share of his power to the popular candidate, who thus -was brought forth to the foremost rank in the impending struggle between -the church and the emperor. - -Valens, after many delays, at last set out upon his progress through Asia -Minor. He journeyed slowly, in order to make himself acquainted with the -real feelings of the surrounding population. To secure a favorable -reception, he sent before him his prefect Modestus, who took good care that -no hostile figure should meet the eye of the sovereign. On entering any -town, with a numerous retinue of courtiers, the prefect immediately sent -for the bishop, and questioned him as to his dispositions in regard to the -emperor's views. If the answer proved satisfactory, the prelate was loaded -with honors and privileges; if, on the contrary, he adhered to the true -faith, banishment or even death was awarded against him. The whole of -Bithynia and Galatia was thus traversed by the imperial cortége, which met -everywhere that silent attitude on the part of the people so often mistaken -for a sincere feeling of satisfaction. At last Modestus entered Cappadocia, -on his way to the city inhabited, one might almost say governed, by Basil. -And here we must give way to our author's narrative, for no words of ours -could supply the interest of the following scene: - - "On his arrival in town, the prefect sent for the bishop. Basil obeyed - the summons; when he entered the prefect's room, he maintained an - attitude of calm superiority, which gave him, says Gregory Nyssa, far - more the appearance of a physician visiting a patient than that of a - delinquent before his judge. This firmness intimidated the prefect, who - had recourse at first to mildness. 'The emperor is coming,' said he; - 'pray beware, for he is highly irritated; and, for a mere scruple about - a dogma, do not jeopardize wantonly the interests of your church: if, on -the contrary, you show yourself submissive, you will feel the effects of - his good-will' 'Pay attention yourself,' replied Basil, 'to the fact - that you have no power over such men as seek for nothing else but the - kingdom of God, and pray do not talk to me as you would to children.' - 'Well, but won't you do anything for the emperor?' asked the prefect. - 'Is it nothing in your eyes to see the emperor mingling with your flock - and becoming one of your auditors? This is what you may gain by yielding - a little, and by sacrificing one single word of the symbol.' 'Doubtless, - it is a great thing to see an emperor at church, for it is a great thing - to save a soul, not only the soul of an emperor, but the soul of any - man, whatever it may be. And yet, far from adding to or taking from the - symbol one single word, I would not even alter the disposition of the - letters that make up the syllables.' 'What, will you forget so far the - respect you owe to the emperor?' exclaimed Modestus in a loud voice, and - giving way to impatience. 'But in what I do really offend him,' retorted - Basil, 'is more than I can understand.' 'Why, you don't adopt his faith, - when all around you submit to it.' 'But my own emperor wills it not; I - can never worship a creature, having myself been created by God, and - called to become one like unto him.' 'Well, but we who command in this - place, what do you think of us! Are we nothing in your eyes? and would - you not deem yourself happy to be our equal, and to be associated to our - dignity?' 'You may lord it over us, and I by no means dispute your - exalted rank. To be your equal is, doubtless, a fine thing; but I am - already your equal, since you are, like myself, the creature of God, and - since I am likewise the equal, which I deem an honor, of those whom you - rule.' 'At least, don't you fear my power?' -{369} - 'What can you do to me?' 'What?--why, inflict upon you any degree of - suffering I may command.' 'Pray speak out clearly and tell me what?' - 'Confiscation, banishment, tortures--death itself.' 'None of those - things can reach me; a man who has nothing leaves nothing for - confiscation; a man who is attached to no place, and looks upon himself - everywhere as a stranger, is beyond the reach of banishment. What - tortures can you inflict upon this weak body, when the very first blow - will do for it at once? Indeed, indeed,' added Basil, pointing to his - chest, 'you would do me a good service were you to rid me of this - miserable pair of bellows. As for death, I should deem it a favor, as - leading me to that God for whom I wish to live, and for whose cause I am - already half dead.' 'Nobody ever dared,' interrupted Modestus, 'to speak - to me in this way.' 'Because you never met a bishop.' Bewildered and - angry, yet still afraid of carrying matters to the last extremities, - Modestus put an end to the interview by giving the bishop one day for - reflection. 'To-morrow you will find me what I am to-day,' concluded - Basil, 'and I don't wish that you should yourself change in regard to - me.' - - "On the morrow, and on the following days, Valens was expected every - hour. The bishop was besieged with parleys and entreaties of every - description. There was not one noble personage who did not undertake to - argue with the prelate. The head cook, Demosthenes--an influential man, - by the by--returned constantly to the attack. Modestus, on the other - hand, feeling vexed at having no better result to bring before the - emperor, and anxious to avoid any charge of weakness, made public - preparations for an execution. Heralds, lictors, executioners--every - judicial agent was summoned, ready at a signal to seize upon the - factious priest. Having thus taken every precaution, the prefect, - somewhat abashed, yet confident at least in his preventive measures, - repaired to the prince. 'Emperor,' said he, 'I have failed in my - attempt; this man is unmanageable; threats, entreaties, kindness, are - all unavailing with him. This is a matter of stern severity; do but give - the order, and it shall be fulfilled.' But this was exactly what Valens - was not inclined to do. Though no less incensed than bewildered, still - be did not dare to shed such illustrious blood on the path he was about - to enter. He reprieved the execution, and penetrated into the city in a - sort of wavering state of mind, just like a piece of iron, says Gregory - Nyssa, already melting in the fire; but nevertheless still remaining a - bit of iron. - - "He continued in this mood, irresolute as to his line of conduct, and - without holding any communication with the bishop's dwelling. A meeting, - however, became unavoidable, for the festival of the Epiphany was - approaching; and, unless he chose to put himself outside of the church, - Valens could not do otherwise than attend at divine service. On the - morning of the feast, he therefore came to a determination, and went to - the temple with an escort of soldiers, himself doubting whether he would - be received peacefully, or would have to force an entry through - violence. He entered: the crowd was most numerous, and had just begun - the choral psalms; the chant was both harmonious and powerful, the whole - service offering that appearance of majesty and order which Basil - excelled in maintaining in his church. At the bottom of the nave stood - Basil himself, facing the people, but motionless like a pillar of the - sanctuary, and with his eyes fixed upon the altar. There he remained - standing, just as the acts of the saints represent him, his tall or - rather towering stature showing off his spare and slender figure, while - his aquiline features were strongly brought forth by his thin, emaciated - cheeks; a latent fire flashed from under his prominent forehead and his - arched eyebrows, whilst now and then a somewhat disdainful smile parted - on each side of his mouth his long white beard. All around him stood his - clergy in an attitude of fear and respect. At this imposing sight Valens - stopped, as if suddenly seized with a sort of bewilderment. The service - continued as though his presence had passed unperceived. At the - offertory, he stepped forward to present the gift which he had prepared; - but no hand was held out to receive it; nobody came forward to meet him. - A cloud passed before his eyes; he staggered on his legs; and, had not - one of the attendants supported him, he would have fallen to the ground. - Basil had pity on his anguish, and waved with his hand that the offering - should be accepted. - - "The next day, the emperor having recovered his composure, returned to - the church, and, feeling bolder, resolved to speak to his terrible - antagonist. The service being over, he passed behind the velum where the - officiating priest was wont to retire. Basil received him with kindness, - in the presence of his faithful friend Gregory, who had hastened to his - side. The interview was a long and peaceful one. Basil fully explained - to the monarch his reasons for not conforming to his wishes, and even - entered into many theological developments. By thus flattering his - vanity, and by appearing to set some value on his opinion, he kept him - for several hours spellbound by his lucid and powerful eloquence. This, - by no means, satisfied many of the by-standers, who had already gone - over to Arianism, and some of them endeavored to interfere. Among these - was the unfortunate Demosthenes, who made an attempt at a theological - argument, but in the midst of his demonstration he unwittingly coined a - most ridiculous barbarism. 'Strange,' exclaimed Basil, smiling, 'here we - have caught Demosthenes blundering in Greek!' The emperor departed, - somewhat pacified, and bestowed upon Basil a piece of land for a - hospital which he had founded," (pp. 94-103.) - -{370} - -What a picture! what a lesson for every one! How it brings home to every -mind the fact that a new power had arisen, which was more than a match for -worldly rulers, though clothed with even imperial purple. In the present -instance, the lesson became still more apparent, when Valens left Caesarea -without having dared to sign a decree of banishment against Basil, and -fully convinced that a supernatural agency interfered to protect him. In -the West, observes Prince de Broglie, Valentinian endeavored to maintain a -neutral position between the church and heathenism; but he found it -impossible to keep his ground, and his own measures turned against him. In -the East, Valens aimed at governing against the church, but was overcome by -the sole ascendency of sanctity combined with genius. The time, in fact, -was come when the temporal power proved to be utterly helpless to save a -crumbling state of society from its utter downfall, and when the -fundamental principles on which all society must ever rest were to be -recast and remodelled by more skilful hands, though even through a dark, -chaotic period, to serve again in future days as the substratum of modern -Christendom. Geologists plunging into the bowels of the earth tell us of -primitive periods, and primitive creations, that appear to our wondering -eyes as the forerunners or foreshadows of our own world. We read something -of the same kind in the facts and incidents of the fourth century: the -priestly power makes itself already felt in a Basil, or in Augustin, much -as it was hereafter displayed in a Gregory I., or a Lanfranc, or an Anselm, -or even a Hildebrand. Doubtless, Basil and Ambrose were no Hildebrands, but -they are of the same race and genus--there is a family likeness between -them all, because, perhaps, the same spirit burns within them, whatever may -be their outward figure or robe. To convey our meaning through another -simile. You enter a gallery, containing the portraits of some eminent -family, whose deeds have left their imprint for ages on the country to -which they belong. You take your stand at the founder of the illustrious -stock, and probably his large, open, noble figure sinks at once into your -memory, as if you had before you some huge relic of the fossil world. And -then you go on, following, one by one, each successive representative of -the time-honored generations. The ancestral likeness becomes almost -extinct, and you vainly endeavor to retrace in the effeminate lineaments of -a courtier the eagle-eye and haughty traits of his forefathers. But all of -a sudden you are riveted to the spot by the portrait of a youth, who seems -to embody within himself every distinctive mark of the whole race. You -would almost mistake him for a son of the original founder, and yet he -bears so completely about him the peculiarities of his own time that to -place him anywhere else would be committing an utter anachronism. Your mind -is, as it were, thrown off its balance, and you hardly know how to account -for the delusion. Something of the same kind occurs when you compare -certain prelates of the middle age, or even of later times, with the last -bishops of the Roman empire; and nowhere does this highly interesting fact -come forth in stronger relief than in the work before us. It would be easy -to demonstrate the assertion by other incidents belonging to the life of -St. Basil; we prefer giving a still better proof in St. Ambrose, the -celebrated bishop of Milan. - -He was the last Roman statesman, just as Theodosius might be termed the -first Christian emperor. He had been brought up in the familiarity of -Probus, one of the most eminent patricians of the great city. As he himself -belonged to a noble family, he had learned at an early age all the -traditions and arts of the Roman government, whilst the austerity of his -religious principles guarded him against the allurements of pleasure. -{371} -Of an open, commanding exterior, a good speaker, well versed in literature, -no less proficient in the laws of his country, it seemed natural that with -such eminent qualifications, backed with excellent connections, he should -attract the sovereign's notice. This actually took place, and he was -appointed to the consular government of Milan. But the times were -dangerous, for the unbending disposition of Valentinian had now become -tyrannical. Probus was by no means blind to the peril incurred by his -youthful _protégé_; and on taking leave of him the veteran politician -simply said, "Child, I have but one piece of advice to give you. Behave, -not like a governor, but like a bishop." The advice was characteristic and -pithy: Ambrose remembered it well. In the midst of the universal confusion -and terror caused by the emperor's cruelty, Milan enjoyed the greatest -order and tranquillity. No riots, no insurrections, no complaints; the -thing was in itself a wonder, more particularly, if we recollect the -dissensions existing between the Arian bishop Auxentius, and the better -part of his flock. In fact, a young governor setting an example of -chastity, integrity, and humanity--showing himself affable, just, or -merciful according to the occasion--never sacrificing to his own ambition -or private interests the time and property of others; such a man, says -Prince de Broglie, was, in the eyes of the population, fit to grace the -episcopal seat far better than the praetorium of the civil magistrate. - -The popular election of Ambrose to the episcopacy is too well known for us -to relate once more a story that has been so often and so ably told. What -we wish particularly to bring forward is the secular character which is -constantly enforced upon a bishop of those times, whether he wills it or -not, from the very simple reason that he could do what no other could -accomplish. - -Ambrose had scarcely been consecrated--he had scarcely bestowed the whole -of his large fortune upon the poor, he had scarcely given himself up to the -absorbing duties of his new position, when be was called upon to guide the -first steps of his own sovereign, young Gratian, who had just succeeded to -his father Valentinian, and raised Theodosius to the throne of the East. -Both these princes were sincere Christians, but Theodosius had been brought -up in the camp, had tasted the bitter cup of adversity, and added to the -qualities of a good soldier those of a cool judgment and a sound heart. -Gratian, on the contrary, was a mere stripling, whose intentions were -upright, but who had hardly any experience in public affairs. He thus was -naturally disposed to lean on Ambrose, whose advice, both as a pastor and a -statesman, might be so eminently useful. That advice was not wanting, and -for some time the policy of the Western Empire was in reality the policy of -Ambrose. We use the word advisedly, for no other could better answer to our -meaning and to the real state of things. At the same time we beg the reader -to remember that not for one minute does the bishop separate his strong, -manly adherence to the gospel from his views as to the secular government; -both are, indeed, so blended, so utterly identified, that it becomes as -impossible to distinguish them one from another, as it is to mark where the -influence of our bodily organs terminates, and where that of our soul -begins. The evils of the times were too frequent, and too poignant, not to -require the interference of Ambrose--not to make him bold, even as a -bishop, a sort of civil magistracy, of which his flock would have been the -very last to complain. Though he had not the slightest idea of using his -sober but penetrating eloquence for anything like popular demonstrations, -yet he was not the man to refuse the part or an intercessor, if a -population, suffering from oppression, claimed his support; or if the -sovereign asked of him to strengthen his wavering counsels, he would -readily hold out a helping hand. - -{372} - -And here we may find, with our author, manifest indications of that great -Christian doctrine, the "_de jure_" alliance of church and state. -Ambrose had been formed from childhood upward to a certain course of ideas, -which led him naturally to assume a large share in the direction of public -affairs. - - "He could not apprehend the notion that the empire should have no - official form of worship, or rather that it should have two religions - together at one and the same time. He was shocked at the sight of an - incoherent confusion of Christianity and heathenism to be met with at - every step throughout the West, and nowhere more than at Rome itself. - The churches and their rival temples, both opened on the same day, by - order of the senate or emperor, for the same official ceremonies; - Jupiter and Mars, two glorified demons, associated with the one jealous - God, as the protectors of the commonwealth; invoked in the same - language, thanked for the same favors; and then the monuments covered - with profane inscriptions, the statues of idols towering over the - basilicas, or defying on the public squares and at the corner of every - street the cross triumphant; all this adulterous mixture of truth and - error, which the Christian emperors had never dared to proscribe - completely, scandalized the jealous purity of his faith quite as much as - his taste for administrative regularity. As a prefect, he would have - gladly put an end to such confusion, as being a public nuisance; as a a - bishop, he felt indignant against so poisonous a profanation. The empire - acknowledging but one master, and there being but one God in heaven, why - should not these two unities be linked together by an indissoluble - union? Why should the state tolerate within its limits anything beyond - those two grand unities? On this central point Gratian and the bishop - agreed even before they had seen each other. The alliance of the church - and state, which the timorous conscience of a Gratian had looked for, - Ambrose was ready not only to recommend, but enforce as a duty," (vol. - ii. p. 18.) - -It would hardly be possible to point out in more positive terms the -doctrine which became the groundwork of Christendom in after times, a -doctrine which a St. Gregory VII. and an Innocent III. were to carry to its -extreme consequences. This was the germ, destined to unfold itself slowly -underground, until it should rise and develop its branches in the feudal -times, serving as a stay and prop for an anarchical state of society. But -let us not wander beyond our subject. Gratian and Ambrose were soon closely -knit together in the greatest intimacy, and ere long the influence of the -master mind became apparent. Between 378 and 381 Gratian dwelt almost -constantly at Milan, issuing new laws, which all bear the stamp of a -priestly impulse, which all are inspired by a man who could not forget that -_he_ likewise had held civil power. In everyone of these enactments, -justly observes our author, we perceive certain dispositions tempering -rigor by clemency. Thus it is, for instance, with those privileged -corporations of the Roman empire, which were at once a resource and a -source of ruin for its very existence by their extortionary tendencies; -thus, again, with a more equitable distribution of the annona, which is -modified according to the dictates of charity. Elsewhere measures are -adopted against burglary or brigandage, but at the same time qualified by -certain humane clauses, as to the mode of repression. In fact, the civil -ruler shows himself less authoritative, less imperious, less harsh and -arbitrary in the display of his power; and yet we meet with a greater -firmness, never baulked by alternatives of weakness and helplessness. - -In other directions these laws assume the form of what we might call public -manifestations of the imperial conscience. Let us supply a few instructive -instances. - -Milan, August 3, 379.--General law against heretics, expressly modifying -the edict enacted at Sirmium in the preceding year, and extending to such -sects as shall debase _by their sophistry_ the notion of God, the -prohibition of propagandism, which had already been laid upon those who -_annulled baptism by renewing it_, (Donatist.) - -{373} - -Milan, April 24, 380.--Women of low extraction, and condemned by that very -fact to appear on the stage are freed from any such obligation as soon as -they embrace Christianity; "because," says the law, "the better mode of -living they have adopted liberated them from the bond of their natural -condition: _Melior vivendi usus vinculo naturalis conditionis -evaluit_." - -May, 381.--The above law is restricted; "for such women as abandon the -purity of a Christian life shall not enjoy the above exemption." - -July 21st.--Liberation of certain criminals, in honor of Easter. - -May 2, 382.--Penal measures are denounced against those apostates who shall -preach apostasy. Whoever abandons the Christian law to embrace idolatry, -Judaism, or Manichaeism, is declared incapable of making a will, one of the -greatest penalties to which a Roman could be subjected. And all these -measures were crowned by another, which made a deep impression throughout -the whole empire: the statue of Victory was definitively removed from the -hall where the senate assembled at Rome for its deliberations. This was -perhaps the greatest proof of the influence which Ambrose had over the -imperial mind, and not one heathen, of high or low degree, mistook the hand -that had dealt the blow. - -At any rate, Ambrose was not the man to deny it. Symmachus, one of the most -illustrious patricians, who belonged to the heathen party, having sent up -to the throne a petition, whose object was to obtain the restoration of the -statue, Ambrose himself entered the lists in a counter petition, or rather -manifesto, in which we see at once the bishop and the statesman. - - "Every man [says he] who acknowledges the Roman rule bears arms for the - emperors and princes; you are verily the militia of an all-powerful God, - and of the most holy faith. For there is no security for man himself if - he does not worship the true God--the God of the Christians, who governs - all things; he alone is the true God, and demands that we should adore - him from the bottom of our souls. The gods of nations, say the - Scriptures, are nothing else but devils. - - "Now whosoever serves that God ought to bear within him no dissimulation, - no reserve, but devote his whole being to him. If he does not entertain - such feelings, he ought at least to offer no external consent to - idolatrous worship, or to a profane worship; for no one can deceive God, - to whom the secret of our hearts lies open. ... I am really astonished - that any man should hope to see you restore the altars of the Gentiles, - and give money from your coffers for profane sacrifices. .... O emperor! - do not allow any man to deceive your youth. ... And I likewise, I am for - following the experience of the wise, but God's counsels must rule - supreme over all others. If we had to do here with some military concern, - you should consult and follow the opinion of the best approved generals. - But in religious matters you are bound to listen to God. Is the man who - gives you this piece of advice a heathen? Well, don't force him to - believe what he won't believe; but then let him allow you, O emperor! the - same freedom: let him not attempt to force upon the sovereign an act of - violence that he would not himself endure at his hands. The very heathen - does not like a man to belie his own creed; every one ought to maintain - the free and sincere convictions of his own mind. Should those who hurry - you on to such a decision be but nominal Christians, pray, do not allow - yourself to be deluded by a name. Whoever advises you in this way - sacrifices to the gods, whether he admits it or not. ..." - -Ambrose wound up by requesting to -obtain communication of the petition, with a view of answering it. "In a -worldly suit," said he, "you would listen to both parties. This is a matter -of religion. I, the bishop, I come forth to defend her. ... If you refuse -me, no bishop will submit peacefully to such an iniquity; you may still -apply to the church, but you will not meet any more with priests, or at -least with any who will not be ready to resist you." - -Thoroughly to appreciate the weight of this strong language, it must be -remembered that many a lukewarm Christian within the imperial council -inclined to the restoration of the famous statue. To refuse the request of -Ambrose would, however, have been imprudent, and besides, Valentinian the -Younger revered and loved the venerable bishop, who had shown him great -kindness in trying circumstances. Once in possession of the pagan -manifesto, the great prelate of the West dealt with it in a manner which -scattered to the four winds both its arguments and rhetorical flourishes. -{374} -The whole composition is a masterpiece of sound reason and gentlemanly -satire, forming a thorough defence of Christianity against idolatry. When -it was read before the council, every wavering mind was struck dumb with -astonishment, whilst the youthful sovereign broke forth in the following -impassioned words: "It's the voice of Daniel; I will not undo what my -brother did." Of course the cause of the goddess Victory was lost for ever. - -But something was not and could not be lost--we mean the contest between -the church and idolatry, that survived even the final crash of the empire. -Yet that crash, though imminent, could not yet be foreseen by either party, -still less perhaps by Ambrose himself, who was a true type of the old -Roman. His constant object seems to have been to revive the pristine policy -of his forefathers, by instilling new life into them, thanks to the sublime -doctrines of the new faith. So things went on just in the same way, -Christianity impregnating more and more the habits, institutions, and laws -of ancient society, but for purposes that were still the secret of -Providence. In the mean time Gratian was murdered by the usurper Maximus, -and Ambrose was once more called to negotiate with the murderer, and to -defend the last relics of the Valentinian family. A short time yet runs on, -and Theodosius remains sole ruler of the whole civilized world--a ruler -according to the heart of the holy bishop of Milan. With an Ambrose and a -Theodosius to prop the tottering edifice, what might not be expected? And -yet it was not to be. These two bright figures are but a transient gleam -between two storms. Alaric was born--nay, more, he had been a silent -spectator in the glittering crowd of courtiers who attended at the -coronation of Theodosius. How many wild dreams of invasion, and burning -cities, and bloody battles were teeming at that very moment in the brain of -that young barbarian! - -Singular enough, the first occasion on which Ambrose and Theodosius met, as -it were, in public, gave rise to a contest. The emperor, irritated at the -summary destruction of a Jewish synagogue by one of the Eastern prelates, -had ordered it to be rebuilt at the expense of the prelate. The bishop was -absent from Milan when the order was given and sent; on his return, he felt -indignant that a Christian prelate should be bound to rebuild a temple -dedicated to the execration of Jesus Christ. It was in his eyes a sort of -prevarication far more guilty than the violation of any civil law. He -immediately wrote to the emperor in the strongest language; and here again -he sets forth that great Christian doctrine which was afterward so fully -developed and exemplified in the middle age. The whole incident is so -striking that we shall give it in the words of Prince de Broglie: - - "Ambrose begins by a short insinuative exordium: 'Listen to me, O - emperor! as you wish that God may listen to me when I am praying for - you. If I am not worthy of being heard by you, how should I be worthy of - transmitting your wishes and prayers? If it be not proper for an emperor - to fear plain speaking, it is not likewise proper for a priest to - disassemble his thoughts.' - - "He then enters fully and unreservedly into his own doctrine: he - maintains the unlawfulness of any help given by Christians for the - construction of an edifice destined to error; and the faithful, but, - above all, the bishops, have no more the right to do it than the emperor - to impose it upon them. If the bishop yields to the imperial order, he - becomes guilty, and the emperor responsible before God for the bishop's - weakness. 'So you must see,' pursues Ambrose, 'whither you are going. - You ought to fear quite as much the bishop's obedience as his - resistance. If he is steadfast, fear to make a martyr of him; if he - shows weakness, fear that you may bear the weight of his fall. And, - indeed, how will your order be fulfilled? Should the Christians refuse - to accomplish it, will you force them to it through violence? So you - will be obliged to confide to the Count of the East your victorious - standards, your labarum; nay, the very standard of Christ himself, with - the mission of restoring a temple, wherein Christ will be denied. -{375} - Well, pray order that the labarum shall be carried into the synagogue, - and then see whether anyone will obey you. ... History tells us that - idolatrous temples were erected in Rome with the spoils of the - Cimbrians. In our days, the Jews may engrave on the frontispiece of - their synagogue: Temple built with the spoils of the Christians. Public - order requires it, will you say? So the appearance of outward order must - lord it over the interests of faith! No; authority must yield to piety.' - - "It would be impossible to assert in language of more rigorous cogency - the supremacy of the religious law over every civil law. The church, in - her maternal prudence, is far from having ratified on these delicate - points the tenets of Ambrose: as she never imposed upon the faithful the - obligation of building temples to error, so has she not forbidden them - to contribute to their material preservation whenever equity, previous - engagements, or the necessity of repairing wrongs requires it of them. - It is, therefore, by no means astonishing that Theodosius, arguing like - a civil lawgiver, should have deemed these demands excessive, or even - that he should have given way to an unusual fit of ill humor. He allowed - the letter to remain unanswered. And yet it contained toward the end two - lines which offered matter for consideration. 'Such is my request,' said - the prelate; 'I have done all in my power to present it with that - respect which is due to you: pray, do not force me to speak out in the - church.' - - "Indeed, as soon as he returned to Milan, Ambrose availed himself of the - very first opportunity to speak out at church, and before Theodosius. He - chose for his text the words of Jeremiah: 'Take up thy walnut staff, and - walk forth.' He boldly asserted that the staff mentioned by the prophet - was the sacerdotal rod, intended far less to be agreeable than useful to - those whom it scourges. He then recalled several examples of the old - law, such as Nathan and David, thus showing that in all times the - ministers of God had never spared the truth to kings. The comparison was - in itself clear enough, and Theodosius must have felt somewhat - uncomfortable at the very first words; but still he could hardly expect - that the orator should address him personally. And yet such was the - case, when Ambrose said by way of conclusion: 'And now, O emperor! after - speaking of you, I must speak to you; reflect that the more God has - raised you up in glory, the more you ought to show deference to him who - has given you all. .... It is the mercy of Christ which has made you - what you are. So you must love Christ's body, or the church, you must - wash her feet, kiss them, perfume them, so that the whole dwelling of - Christ shall be filled with your good odor; in other words, you must - honor the meanest of his disciples, and forgive them their faults, since - the repentance of one single sinner gives joy in heaven to all the - prophets and apostles. The eye cannot say to the hand, I do not want - thee, thou art unnecessary. Every member of the body of Jesus Christ is - necessary, and to every one of them you owe protection.' - - "The bishop came down from the altar after uttering these words in a - tone of severity, and in the midst of the general amazement, for all - were aware that the emperor was accused, but no one knew the motive of - the reprimand. Theodosius, of course, could not for one instant remain - doubtful. Stopping the prelate as he passed by, 'So you have made me the - subject of your speech,' said he in an angry tone. 'I said what I deemed - of use to yourself,' replied Ambrose. 'I see very well,' resumed the - emperor, more moved than ever, 'that you have been speaking of the - synagogue. I admit that my orders were somewhat harsh, but I have - already mitigated them; and then those monks yonder are so - wrong-headed.' [Footnote 114] Here a courtier thought fit to inveigh - against the monks, but he was soon stopped by Ambrose, who, once more - addressing the emperor, 'I am going to offer the sacrifice!' exclaimed - he; 'allow me to offer it for you fearlessly: free me from the burden - which weighs down my soul.' 'Well, well,' replied Theodosius, as he sat - down again, 'the orders shall be modified, I promise you.' But such a - vague promise, and made as it was in a sullen mood, was not deemed - sufficient. 'Cancel the whole affair,' insisted Ambrose; 'for, if you - allow one tittle of it to remain, your magistrates will take advantage - of it to grind down the poor Christians.' The dialogue proceeded in the - midst of the whole assembly, and the situation became at last downright - intolerable. The emperor gave way, and promised whatever was exacted. - 'You swear to it,' said Ambrose; 'I am about to offer the sacrifice on - your word. Mind, on your word,' he repeated a second time. 'Yes, on my - word,' replied Theodosius, who wanted, at any cost, to put an end to - such a scene. The holy sacrifice began; 'and never,' said Ambrose the - next day to his sister, 'never did I feel so sensibly the real presence - of God in prayer.'" (Vol. ii. pp. 247-254.) - - [Footnote 114: The Emperor's expression is far stronger: _Menachi - multa scelera faciunt._.] - -What a scene indeed! And how it brings out at once the rapid progress which -Christian feeling had made of late throughout the empire. Better than the -famous penance of Theodosius in the cathedral of Milan, it shows us how -strongly the slightest deviation from the general range of Christian -opinion worked upon the people. For, in fact, we do not detect here the -slightest mark of disapprobation, far less of indignation, among the -audience. -{376} -Any other feeling but astonishment is not once perceptible, and even that -is caused by ignorance of the case, not by any want of sympathy for -Ambrose. His conduct seems to be taken for granted on the part of his -flock, however extreme and out of place it may appear to modern readers. We -are justified in considering such cases as signs of the times; fifty years -before they could not have taken place, and we doubt whether Constantine -would have allowed himself to be thus browbeaten in an open church; sixty -years after--the world had fallen a prey to the barbarians, and it was all -over with the Roman empire. - -Another observation of no less importance is the fact that conduct like -this on the part of Ambrose did not in the slightest degree deprive him of -any influence with the emperor. Quite the contrary; as long as Theodosius -remained in Italy, there prevailed the greatest intimacy between these two -illustrious personages. Ambrose naturally resumed the station of a -confidential advisor, to whom every political affair is freely -communicated. No doubt that his opinions might be followed in a less -servile manner than under Gratian, but the sovereign himself was a man of -mature years, accustomed to all the arts of government, and thus a better -appreciator of the bishop's lucid views and truly Christian politics. On -both sides there sprang up a sort of mutual understanding, closely -bordering on a footing of equality, as one might expect between two master -minds. It is indeed probable that to Ambrose we owe the permanent -establishment of an Eastern and Western Empire, a division founded upon -necessity, and well calculated to avert its imminent ruin. - - "Si Pergama dextra - Defendi possent, etiam hac defensa fuissent." - -Nor was this all, for other measures reveal the same influence. Contrary to -what took place on such occasions, the revolution which placed Theodosius -at the head of the whole empire cost no other blood but that spilt on the -field of battle against the usurper Maximus. There were no executions, no -confiscations, no acts of vengeance; for the first time, Christian mildness -and charity had the day to themselves. Such policy, good in all times, was -excellent at a time when hardly any monarch could reckon upon transmitting -his imperial crown to his immediate descendants. - -The reader may now, we trust, form a definite notion of what he may expect -to find in the _church and the Roman empire during the fourth -century_. It is a general review of what the church maintained, -preserved, and appropriated to herself among the confused elements of which -was made up ancient civilization. Among that huge mass of elements we have -purposely selected the most striking, as offering the best instances of -that constant though silent transformation which society itself was -undergoing previous to the creation of feudal Christendom. That, in the six -octavo volumes before us, there are numberless instances of the same kind, -must be evident to every intelligent mind. As another inducement to study -the book, we may add that the holy father has bestowed upon it the highest -praise in a brief addressed to the author--the best reward, assuredly, -which his truly Catholic mind could have wished. - -And now, lastly, for one most important application of those historical -facts which the Prince de Broglie has placed before the world. To those who -are familiar with the annals of the two centuries which preceded the utter -downfall of the Roman empire, there is a striking resemblance, in a moral -view, with what is going on in our own times. Wherever we cast our eyes, we -find a motley assemblage of high-flown philosophical doctrines blended with -the most degrading superstitions of polytheism; or at Alexandria, the -Neo-Platonic schools borrowing a few partial tenets of Christianity, which -it mixes up with a sort of juggler's theurgy. -{377} -After listening to the apostles of this celebrated school, we had but to -cross the street to attend at one of those instructions or lectures--how -shall we call them?--in which the Christian teachers, priests, and bishops -developed the sublime tenets of the redemption. And again, a little further -on, we might have stepped into the Serapeum, and there witnessed the -immoral mysteries of the Egyptian worship. And so was it, more or less, -over all the Roman world. - -Doubtless between our own times and those there are many differences, but -how many no less striking points of resemblance? We meet with no immoral -mysteries in the public worship, but how many cesspools of the same kind in -the lower ranks of society--cesspools emitting such loathsome exhalations -as would have shocked more than one heathen philosopher? There are no -barbarians at our doors, ready to rush in through every gap and weak point -of the body politic; but kings put forth their armies, in order to -establish the supremacy of might over right; and their attempts are -successful, and on the footsteps of their victorious legions an intoxicated -multitude of admirers hurry on, shouting, "Hurrah, hurrah!" - -And well may they shout "_Hurrah!_" for they, in their wild ovations, -do but foreshadow the advent of a still wilder democracy, animated by all -the insensate passions of self-worship. Such, indeed, is the form of -idolatry which modern nations have assumed, in defiance of the living God, -in defiance of a blessed Redeemer, in defiance of every dogma held sacred -to mankind. Such are the barbarians, henceforward to be subdued, converted, -baptized once more by Christianity, unless the world itself be condemned to -rock and totter to and fro between anarchy and despotism. Take it as you -will--consider it as you please--run over England, or France, or Germany, -or Italy, or the eastern wastes of Russia,--everywhere you will descry and -bear the ground-swell of the huge human tides as if awaiting but the breath -of the blast to foam, and surge, and lash itself into fury. Again, the -forthcoming invasion is of a far more alarming character than that of the -German savages; for, born and nurtured in the bosom of Christianity itself, -it has profited by all its lights, benefited by all the forces of modern -science. Nay, more, our rising democracy is backed by a host of learned -infidels, whose only aim and end is to annihilate revelation, so as to -raise in its stead the adoration of man as God. Who will dare to deny that -such a situation is fraught with imminent peril or refuse to repeat with an -ancient, "_Corruptio optimi pessima_"? - -And now as to our helps. An eminent French writer lately remarked in the -Revue des Deux Mondes that, after all, in the present state of society -there is nothing more alarming than in what has ever taken place since the -very birthday of the new dispensation. Has it not ever been its fate to -struggle against evil doctrines, evil practices, and evil doers? But, then, -in all times it successively modified and tempered anew its weapons, -according to the wants and exigencies of every age. This indeed is the very -secret, in a human view of the subject; this is the secret of its -ascendency over heathen corruption, feudal violence, monarchical despotism, -or even revolutionary anarchy. Now, one of the most extraordinary features -of the present age is that of thirsting after civil and political -liberties, which seem destined to become the ground-work of every future -state or government. Let us observe that this very feeling--however -vitiated and disturbed it may be--is an offspring of the gospel, and, as -such, worthy of our respect. So why should it be so difficult for -Catholicism to bring about a conciliation between its sublime doctrines and -the new cravings of civilized Europe? - -{378} - - "Is the notion of liberty (asks M. Vitet) alien and unknown to - Christianity? Was it never enforced within its bosom? Did the church - never practise it? On the contrary, did not liberty surround her cradle? - Was it not in the church that arose a whole system of elections, debates, - and control, which has become both the glory and rightful goal of our - modern institutions? To make peace with liberty, to live cheerfully in - its company, to understand and bless its favors, is that the same thing - as to absolve its errors? Is that to concede one jot to misrule and - anarchy? 'No,' will reply some good people; 'for God's sake, don't mix up - religion with party questions. Don't drag her into such quarrels. The - more she keeps aloof from the affairs of this world the more steadfast - will be her empire.' Granted; and above we have insisted upon this truth; - but still, however disengaged from politics, from worldly interests - however absorbed in prayer and good works we may suppose religious people - and the clergy, still how could they live here below in an utter state of - ignorance as to what was going on? Were it but to attack the vices, the - baseness, the disorders of our age, must they not know them, witness - them, with their own eyes? We put the question to those pious souls who - are scared at the very association of the two words--liberty and - religion. Are we not delighted that eloquent voices should condemn and - brand in the holy pulpit the vagaries of our modern spirit, the - revolutionary frenzy, and all those impious doctrines which are a scourge - to society? Well, if religion is right in waging war against false - liberty, why should not she be entitled to speak of sound liberty? Why - not encourage her to speak of it with kindness and sympathy, duly - appreciating its generous tendencies, making it both beloved and fully - understood? Otherwise, what sort of Christianity is yours, and what do - you believe to be its fate? Are you not making of it a narrow, contracted - doctrine--a privilege of the few--the tardy and solitary consolation of - old age or grief? If of Christianity you ask nothing more, if you are - satisfied with allowing it to live on just enough to show that it is not - dying, like one of those ruins protected by antiquarians, and never used, - though objects of general reverence--why then you must separate it from - the rising generations, from an overflowing democracy; you must allow it - to become isolated and to grow old--to bury itself complacently in the - past, in contempt for the present, just like a scolding, querulous, - morose, unpopular old gentleman. But if better apprehending its true - destiny, you wish Christianity to obtain a salutary influence not only - over yourself and your friends, but over all mankind, let it penetrate - into the hearts of all your brethren, young and old, low and high; let it - fire them with the spirit of justice and truth; let it transform them, - straighten their paths, purify them, regenerate them, by speaking their - own language, by taking interest in their ideas, by yielding to their - wishes, without either weakness or flattery, just as a kind father draws - around him all his children by making himself once more young among them, - by consenting to their requests while he corrects their faults, guards - them against the dangers of life, and teaches them the narrow, severe - paths of wisdom and truth." [Footnote 115] - - [Footnote 115: Revue des Deux Mondes, Feb. 1, 1867. The above article, - written by M. Vitet, member of the French Academy, will certainly well - repay the reader's perusal, and enlighten him as to the situation of - Catholicism in France. It is indeed astonishing that such a paper - should have been published by that truly infidel periodical; in fact, - Paris readers are fully aware that the editor consented with the - greatest difficulty to its insertion. But then he had of late lost so - many Catholic subscribers.] - -A leaning, then, toward the cause of civil and political freedom might -probably become a powerful help to Catholics in the present and future -crisis by which the world is now threatened. As M. Vitet very properly -remarks, they would not have to sacrifice one single principle; and such an -attitude on their part might pave the way for many a conversion. Yet such a -help is evidently but a poor one after all--a mere matter of expediency. It -is from above and in herself that the church must look for her real helps. -And here we are brought round at once to a strong resemblance between the -actual state of society and that of the fourth century after Christ. The -result of a most extraordinary progress in physical science has bent the -minds of men toward sensual enjoyment and money making. "Put money in your -purse" seems now the motto of almost every living man, and in England more -than in any country. But we may already see what are the effects of this -ruling passion, and how it gnaws at the very vitals of our social body. The -only means of counteracting this fatal craving are the same through which -Christianity conquered the heathen world. Evidently Catholicism alone -commands those means, for it is hardly worth while to take into account -that bastard, inconsistent system, yeleped Protestantism, which has arrived -at its lowest period as a spiritual doctrine, and rather promotes than -checks the materialistic tendencies of the day. -{379} -So to set, as in olden times, bright example of asceticism, humility, -charity, self-renouncement, strong faith, and a no less strong love of the -poor--such are the chief weapons of the church in her warfare against her -antagonists. Most fortunately, she appears at present to put forth her best -approved armory in this respect; for never, whether among the clergy or -laity, did there exist a more exalted ideal of Christian perfection, nor a -stronger will to carry that ideal into execution. Half the work is done, -and we have but to maintain our ground manfully in front of our common -enemy to win the day. - -And yet the day may not be ours. Another world, another form of society may -reap the harvest that we have sown. When St. Ambrose and Theodosius, like -two brave swimmers, breasted the wave of corruption, quickly followed by -the wave of invasion, they fondly imagined, perhaps, that they were -securing once more the props of Roman society, or founding a thoroughly -Christian empire. Ambrose above all, a true Roman of the old stock, could -apprehend no other institutions, no other government but those which had -borne the test of a thousand years. Though a saint and a statesman, he -could not read the signs of the times; and if he could not, who could? The -future was in the hands of God; Ambrose labored and toiled for nations yet -unborn, but which were already bursting the womb of their mother Europe. -Yea! and so may it be with the men of our own generation. - - ------- - - From the Italian of Manzoni. - - The Death of Napoleon. [Footnote 116] - - [Footnote 116: The translation of this poem from the Italian of - Alexander Manzoni was made by the late Rev. Thomas Mulledy, Provincial - Superior of the Jesuits of Maryland. Manzoni is a standard writer in - Italy, and the ode "Il Cinque di Maggio" is a household poem with the - Italians.] - - - MAY 5, 1821. - - He's gone: as void of motion lay, - When the last breath had winged its way, - His stiffened corse--of such a soul - Bereft so struck from pole to pole, - The astonished world astounded hung, - When in its ears his death knell rung: - Silent in dumb reflective power - It mused upon the final hour - Of that great man--that man of fate, - And knows not, if with equal weight - A mortal foot shall ever press - Its bloody dust with such success. - -{380} - - Him shining on a gorgeous throne - My muse beheld--nor struck one tone - While fortune's wheel its circles flies. - He falls, gets up--then prostrate lies; - While thousand voices rend the air, - Her voice amongst them none can hear. - Exempt from every servile praise, - For outrage base she forms no lays; - But now, when such a beam had fled, - She quickly rears her drooping head, - And round his urn, with heaving sigh, - She weaves a song that may not die. - - - From Alpine heights to Egypt's shrine, - From Mansanares to the Rhine, - His thunderbolts unerring flew - Close to his vivid lightning's hue, - From Scylla to the Tanais roars, - From Asia's bounds to Adria's shores. - Was this true glory? undefiled? - Posterity, just, unbeguiled, - The arduous sentence must proclaim, - Whilst we before our Maker's name - Must bow--who wished in him to shine - An impress vast of _hands divine_. - - - He felt the stormy, trepid joy - Of great _designs_--without alloy; - The anxious heart--its feverish pains-- - That eager burn--to seize the reins - _That guide to power's airy height_. - He grasped them, _and with hardy might_ - He gained the proud reward--which seemed - To all a folly e'en t' have dreamed. - All things he tried: bright glory's sweet - _Increased by frightful danger's heat,_ - _Fair_ vict'ry's _smiles_, and _sadd'ning_ flight, - The _sunny_ throne, and exile's night: - Twice prostrate in the dust he lay, - And twice he blazed in _glory's day_. - - His name was _heard_: submissive turned - Two ages--that with fury burned-- - And, trembling, stood before his seat, - In expectation of their fate: - He bade them hush with lordly frown, - And as their umpire sat him down. - He disappeared: his shortened days - He closed, far from the busy gaze - Of men--a mark for envy's dart, - For purest piety of heart, - For hate, that can no act approve, - And for indomitable love. - -{381} - - As o'er the shipwrecked sailor's head - The wave rolls up, with terror dread, - That wave, from whose bleak top before - He searched, in vain, for distant shore; - Soon that soul the sick'ning weight - Of mem'ry felt, and brooding sat. - How oft be undertook to paint - Himself to future days--when faint - Upon the eternal pages sunk - His hand, and in himself he shrunk. - - How oft, upon the silent close - Of some dull, tedious days, he rose, - And bending down his lightning eyes-- - His hand thrust in his bosom lies-- - He stood: and gloomy mem'ry's roll - Of days gone by attacked his soul! - He thought upon the tented field, - The sounding plain with bayonets steeled, - The splendor of his marshalled brave, - The chargers rolling in a wave, - The throbbing breast, the quick command, - And prompt obedience of his band. - - Perhaps with torturing cares opprest, - His wearied spirit found no rest, - And he despaired: but quick was given - An aiding hand from piteous heaven, - To lift him up--from this dark sphere, - And place him in more genial air. - And through hope's smiling, flow'ry way - To guide him to the fields of day; - To those rewards that far transcend - The hope that vast desires lend: - Where gulfed in darkness sinks each ray - Of glory that has passed away. - - O faith immortal! beauteous! kind! - Turn'd to triumphs o'er the mind! - Write this one too--rejoice! be glad! - For never yet a prouder head, - Or one on loftier deeds intent, - To Calv'ry's infamy has bent! - Off from his ashes do thou guard - All malice black--each venomed word - The God who overthrows--and when - To pity moved--rears up again-- - Who scatters terror to the poles! - The God who, when he wills, consoles; - That God has placed himself beside - The desert couch--on which he died. - -{382} - - Translated from Le Mousquetaire. - - Sketch of Père Hyacinthe. - -The discourses of Père Hyacinthe, in the church of Notre Dame, have been -numerously attended, and the sacred eloquence of the orator has furnished -subjects for the strangest criticisms that have appeared in what has been -called, in the nineteenth century, the profane world. - -It is not my intention to give you a portrait of Père Hyacinthe. It has -already been drawn by a master hand. I wish merely to sketch the features, -the figure, and the personalities of this great saver of souls. - -The preacher, who now attracts to Notre Dame the thinking minds of Paris, -is in stature above the middle size; his head is closely shaven, like all -those of the order of barefooted Carmelites. It is well known that the -disciples of St. Teresa wear but a circlet of hair. It is their earthly -crown. His form is too large for the size of his head; his face is monkish; -his forehead recalls to mind that of St. Augustine; his eyes have rather -the expression of seeking truth than of imparting it; but the mouth opens -freely to let fall the word of God upon his hearers; the chin, without -being aristocratic, is not wanting in a certain nobility that redeems his -appearance, which at first sight is ordinary. - -On the whole, Père Hyacinthe carries one's thoughts back to those monks of -the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, who, regardless of -personal safety, fearlessly crossed the thresholds of palaces to make the -dignitaries of earth listen to the teachings of charity, love, and of -liberty. This preacher has been accused of voluntarily laying aside -spiritual subjects to descend to the things of earth. This reproach is -unjust. - -It is necessary to speak of what interests people the most; meet them at -their own doors, live their lives, and suffer with them. Christ spoke in -parables that the ignorant might understand him better, and the poor -flocked in crowds to hear these admirable teachings which transformed the -old world and regenerated humanity. For different times we must take -different means. In this age the man of God desires to enlighten both -Scribes and Pharisees, and to warn noble ladies of the seductive -temptations of Bael. What can be found objectionable in the earthly -character of these teachings? In spite of philosophical reasonings, we must -fall back upon the old adage, "The end justifies the means." - -I do not wish to institute a comparison between Père Hyacinthe and the -sacred orators who have preceded him, but I have heard two of his sermons -in Notre Dame. Not being able to judge which was the best, I can only -decide which pleased me the more. Père Hyacinthe possesses in the highest -degree the gift of awakening man to a proper estimate of himself. Elevate -the creature, and he approaches the Creator. - -I have the honor of knowing a priest who exercises his holy ministry in the -vicinity of our Lady of Loretto. He is the most amiable and benevolent man -that I have ever had the good fortune to meet. - -He speaks to the humblest sinner as St. Charles Borromeo spoke to the -thoughtless Milanese. He has words of consolation and charity for all -classes of unfortunates. His door is open to them at all hours of the day -or night. Thus has he labored for several years, and God alone knows how -many wandering sheep this minister of Christ has brought back to the fold, -and how many erring hearts he has reconciled to God, to their families, and -to society. -{383} -Certainly there do not exist two kinds of morality, but the application of -morality can and ought to vary according to the situation in which they who -are in need of instruction are placed. - -The church of Notre Dame is to my mind one of the churches in the world -which most elevates the soul and brings it nearer to God. I like the Gothic -church; it seems to me that prayers ascend more easily to heaven through -steeples whose spires are lost in the clouds. - -The Greek Byzantine style is both rich and beautiful; but I think it -wanting in majesty. My soul is more deeply impressed upon entering the -portal of one of the cathedrals upon the Rhine than upon ascending the -steps of the Vatican. - -The other day, upon listening to the touching eloquence of Père Hyacinthe, -I could not drive from my thoughts the sad remembrance of a sermon I heard -several years ago in the same place from another celebrated preacher. I had -then for a neighbor in the church of Notre Dame an abbé whose memoirs have -formed the subject of one of my best works. The orator selected for his -discourse the subject of devotion, "Thou shouldst love thy God with all thy -heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." All is contained in these admirable -words; the law and the prophets. - -Such were the first words of the preacher, who from this starting-point -caused his hearers to traverse ages, tracing at length the great efforts of -those noble hearts who devoted themselves for the good of humanity. - -The subject was beautiful, and the orator was truly convincing, every heart -beat in unison. - -I looked at my neighbor, he was inspired. Before me was an apostle who -asked no greater happiness than to suffer martyrdom for the glory of God -and the good of his fellow-creatures. - -Subsequently I learned the precise details of the life of the priest, who -called himself the Abbé Bernard. - -His history is so interesting that I cannot deny myself the pleasure of -writing it a second time. The father of the abbé had accumulated great -wealth in lending money with interest. He was one of those practical men -who shut up their hearts in their money chest. - -Widowed in early life, he sent his only son to college, where he remained -until he had attained the age of seventeen; he then removed him to finish -his studies by travelling for two years in England and eighteen months in -Germany. - -In translating the works of Shakespeare and Goethe, the young Bernard had -acquired a knowledge of the two living languages that are now the keys of -the commercial world. - -He then returned to Paris, with his thoughts more filled with poetry and -philosophy than with a mind prepared for the sterile labors of an -accountant. - -His father, upon placing him in his counting-house, generously allowed him -a salary of 2,000 francs. Forced into acquiescence, Bernard began the life -of an accountant, in which he continued for several years. Unhappily, the -young man fell in love with the daughter of his father's cashier. She was a -beautiful blonde, had every desirable quality, but possessed no greater -fortune than modesty. Bernard's father, who had other views, dismissed the -cashier from his employment and commanded his son never to speak to him -again upon the subject of that foolish union. The young man fell ill, but -his father remained inflexible, "I would rather," said he, "see him laid in -his coffin than give him in marriage to an inferior. I have not worked like -a horse and economized for forty years for the bright eyes of Mademoiselle -Marie Closet; more than that, it is the extreme of folly; the time has -passed ages ago since anyone died for love." - -{384} - -The father was right, nature triumphed over the malady, and the young -Bernard's health was soon restored. The first day he went out during -convalescence, he hastened to the father of his beloved, who declined -seeing him, not wishing to give a pretext for calumny. Despairing on all -sides, the young Bernard resolved to put an end to his existence; a -frequent recourse for despairing lovers of twenty and twenty-five years! - -His mother, a holy woman, had before her death inculcated in the -spring-time of his life religious precepts, of which be retained the -faithful remembrance. Strange caprice of the human heart! at the moment he -determined to offend God the most, be felt unwilling to die before entering -a church. - -Finding himself within two steps of the church of St. Vincent de Paul, he -entered the temple. Lights burned before the two altars. At his right, a -marriage was being celebrated, and at the end of the chapel a funeral -service was being performed. The bridal party was not numerous; but the -deceased must have occupied a high position in society, judging from the -numbers who followed his remains to their last resting-place. Bernard -became absorbed in prayer. When he raised his eyes, he saw before him a -young priest blessing the assemblage. An idea quick as lightning crossed -the mind of the self-destroyer. It is noble, thought he, to console others, -even when there is no hope of happiness for one's self. A week had not -elapsed before Jean Léon Bernard entered a theological seminary. Two years -after be received ordination; he never saw his father again, but the banker -settled upon him an annuity of three thousand francs. The young Levite was -sent to a small village to begin the exercise of his holy ministry. After -celebrating his first mass, he found upon entering the sacristy a letter -awaiting him sealed with black. His father had just died and left him an -inheritance of over four millions. - -Remember Christ himself has said, "The poor and those who lead sinful lives -are in great need of being encouraged and consoled." Bernard returned to -Paris, the great centre of glory and the abode of every misery. - -When I first saw him at Notre Dame, the Abbé Bernard had been administering -his admirable charities in that capital for ten years. From the time he put -on the soutane he lived the life of a saint, his days and nights were at -the disposal of suffering humanity. He passed his time and consecrated his -life to healing the wounds of the soul and curing those of the body. He -multiplied himself, as it were, to accomplish his hard task. He was soon -everywhere, carrying words of peace to the dying, of hope to the occupants -of prisons, and alms to the afflicted of all classes. - -Indefatigable in well-doing, with charity for the faults of others, this -worthy disciple of Christ exercised severity only toward himself. - -Though scarcely forty years of age, he appeared more than fifty; in the -vigor of life he was bent like an old man. The worn features and the -cadaverous paleness of his countenance would have given him a doomed look, -had not his whole aspect been illumined by the divine halo of charity. - -I will relate a few more particulars, in the brief space allotted me, of -the life of this priest and the manner of his death. In order to fulfil a -great mission of charity this abbé set out for Rome. Arriving at -Marseilles, he learned that a change consequent upon the state of the tide -would compel him to wait three days for a boat leaving for Civita Vecchia. - -Patience being a Christian virtue, the worthy priest submitted to the -necessity without a murmur. Having nothing better to do, he set out upon a -tour of investigation through this interesting city, which, thanks to the -conquest of Algeria and the opening of the isthmus of Suez, should become -at some future day the first maritime city of the world. Pursuing his walk, -he took a cross street dividing the port from the oldest quarter of -Marseilles. He had hardly advanced thirty steps, when be found himself -among a crowd assembled before a house of humble appearance. A horrible -sight burst upon his vision. A woman stood before the door uttering the -most piercing shrieks. - -{385} - -The priest asked, "What is the matter?" - -"What! Monsieur le Curé!" replied the porter at the gate. "Do you not -understand that here lies another victim to the terrible epidemic which is -ravaging the city, and that this woman is shrieking for help for her -husband who is dying?" Without waiting for the sentence to be finished, the -Abbé Bernard made his way through the crowd and directed his steps toward -the unhappy woman. "Take me to your husband," said he, extending his hand -toward her. - -The woman regarded him earnestly, but, prevented from replying by choking -sobs, she showed him the way to the third floor. Upon a rough bed a naked -man was prostrated. Two of his comrades were rubbing him with woollen -cloths. - -Finding himself in the presence of cholera the abbé reflected a second, -then wrote some words upon a detached leaf of his note-book. "Here," said -he to the elder of the two porters, "is an order and five francs. Run -quickly to the apothecary's! I will take your place until you return." The -priest took the cloths and rubbed the poor unfortunate. Under his skilfully -applied friction the sick man became calm; but upon seeing the costume of -the priest he could hardly contain himself with terror. "My God!" cried he, -"must I die? Yes, they have brought me a confessor." The abbé assured him -he would be better. The messenger returned bringing the medicines. The -priest remained three hours by his bedside, and when the doctor arrived he -declared him out of danger. - -In the south, the people are sensational and carry their feelings to great -excess. We can hardly wonder, then, that in their enthusiasm the woman and -porters carried the Abbé Bernard out to the street in triumph. Unhappily, -while enthusiastic, they are superstitious. The crowd immediately spread -the report that the priest had power to cure the cholera. At the end of the -street, a woman, upon seeing the abbé, threw herself upon her knees, -exclaiming with sobs: "Father, my child is dying; I have only him on earth; -in the name of the Holy Virgin save him." The indefatigable apostle of -charity followed her to the poor little creature only five or six years of -age, whom he found rolling in agony. God has not given to man the power of -staying the angel of death when he turns from his path to strike the infant -in its cradle. Prayers and science are often powerless. Notwithstanding, -the child was saved. - -The worthy abbé did not regain his hotel until a late hour, greatly -overcome with fatigue. The next morning he did not leave his room. Toward -noon, fearing he was ill, they visited him, and found him with closed eyes -and a smile upon his lips. He was dead. The good pastor had given his life -for his flock. - -Such was the man I had for a neighbor at one of the sermons of Père -Lacordaire. Such was the man whom memory recalled to my thoughts yesterday -while listening to the last discourse of Père Hyacinthe. - ------- - -{386} - - Original. - - The Two Lovers of Flavia Domitilla. - - By Clonfert. - - - Chapter I. - - The Emperor's Feast - -It is now over seventeen hundred years since late on an evening about the -Ides of December, two men, with flowing palliums drawn closely about them, -met near the statue of Janus, in the street of the same name in Rome. - -"Ho! well met, Sisinnius. Coming from the baths, and, like myself, bound -for the emperor's feast!" - -"No, Aurelian, I've had a previous engagement to meet at my own house a man -who is a celebrity in the city for his charity and skill in healing -medicines. When my wife, Theodora, was so very ill last season, the old -Grecian slave that nursed her said that, if permitted, she would seek -Clement--that is his name--and told us of some wonderful cures he had -wrought in her native country by an application of oil. I gladly accepted -the offer. Clement, a venerable old man, effected Theodora's recovery. -Since then he has been a frequent and welcome visitor at my house. If not -too late, drop in when returning from the emperor's, and you will hear -anecdotes of strange scenes and travels in many lands. Clement spends the -evening with us." - -"This, then, is what prevented your acceptance of Domitian's invitation?" - -"Yes, and I assure you I look forward with more pleasure to an evening's -conversation with my friend Clement than I would to the imperial -festivities, although I understand no expense has been spared to make them -surpass anything before witnessed, even the magnificence of Nero." - -"Are you not afraid that your absence from the senatorial party will be -noticed? Take care, lest, like the late Consul Clemens Domitilla, who -scrupulously avoided those entertainments of the Saturnalia, you be -suspected of a leaning toward the Jews. If so, your great popularity and -worth would scarcely save you, as they did not save him, who was, moreover, -cousin german of the emperor." - -"Not I, Sisinnius! Afraid? Why, I am ready at any moment to sacrifice to -the gods of my country and of my family. _I_ to acknowledge as the -only son of the supreme Jupiter a Jew, of whom we know nothing save that he -was nailed on a cross by the procurator Pilate! Poor Clemens Domitilla! So -unaffected, so earnest, so honorable! May his manes enjoy elysium! It has -been always a mystery to me how a man of his education, of his -intelligence, of his high position and practical sense, could have been -infected with this Christian leprosy. To deny the gods worshipped by his -forefathers since the days of Romulus and Numa, and to adore in their stead -this crucified Jew, of whom we are beginning to hear so much of late--it is -inexplicable." - -"It is part of the infatuation which clouds betimes the greatest -intellects," said Aurelian; and then, lowering his voice, he added: "Pardon -me for introducing a subject which you must not mention to your wife -Theodora, nor to my affianced, Flavia?" - -"I have no secrets from my wife, Aurelian, nor should you from your -betrothed. No two men in Rome have more reason to trust a wife and an -affianced than have you and I." - -"There was a time, Sisinnius, when I thought as you. Would I had no cause -to think otherwise now! What if _they_ are infected, as you express -it, with this Christian leprosy, which led to the death of my betrothed's -uncle, Clemens Domitilla?" - -{387} - -"But you know," whispered Sisinnius, "there was another motive for Clemens' -execution--_he_ was the most popular member of the imperial family. -Domitian was jealous of his popularity and influence, as he is now jealous -of this Jesus who is called King of the Jews, whose relatives he is seeking -out in every quarter." - -"Would not the same motive have force with regard to Clemens' niece--my -betrothed, Flavia, if only a fair excuse could be found for the destruction -of one so young, so fair, and so innocent? Would not you and I be involved -in the ruin, if she and Theodora had the misfortune of leaning to -Christianity?" - -"By Jupiter, it is impossible," broke in Sisinnius. "My wife is a model, a -very Lucretia in devotion to her lord, and attention to her household -duties. The slaves are cheerful and obedient; the laborers set to work, -stewarded and paid; the clients met and satisfied without long interviews -with me. How one so young and gentle can manage to get through so much -business and make our home so peaceful and happy is a wonder to me! I bless -the gods for the treasure they have given me in her! When tired with the -labors of office in the forum or in the senate, I am cheered by her -welcoming smile on my return home. It is impossible that one of her -business habits, so wrapt up in her husband and in her home, could have -time or folly enough to trouble her head about this crucified Jew. Perhaps -Flavia, who is rich, unoccupied, and, like all young people, romantic, may -be silly enough to lend an ear to his sorcery. If so, the sooner you make -her a wife, and give her business to attend to, the better." - -"Was not Clemens Domitilla a sensible man, Sisinnius, most attentive to the -duties of his consular office, and least likely to be led astray by a mere -idea?" - -"Undoubtedly he was considered a cool councillor, a practical commander, -and the ablest statesman of our time." - -"And yet he yielded himself up a captive to this new religion; nay, yielded -up his life sooner than admit that Jesus was not the true God. You are -still incredulous? I hope you may be right, and my suspicions unfounded, -for both our sakes and the sakes of those we love like our own lives. But -meet me at the third watch of the night of the 8th, before the Kalends of -January, and I will promise you the means of sifting this matter to the -bottom." - -"Agreed. Don't forget to drop in at our place on your return from the -emperor's banquet. You will meet Clement; and perhaps some one else, whose -name I will not tell you lest I might have to consider myself indebted for -your visit to the attraction of its owner. _Vale!_" - -Leaving Sisinnius to ponder over what he had heard, we will follow -Aurelian, as he wends his way to the palace of Domitian at the foot of the -Esquiline. Aurelian was a young noble of high rank and vast wealth. The -waxen images in his paternal atrium represented many who had sat on the -curule chair; and brought his family history, stamped with the badge of -nobility, back beyond the days of the Fabii and Cincinnatus. His Etrurian -estates alone brought him in a yearly revenue, which in modern times would -be considered fabulous by those not aware of the immense wealth of even -private Roman citizens under the republic and the empire. His dress made -known his rank to those who met him as he passed along the streets. The -toga of whitest woollen cloth, the _latus clavus_, or broad purple -stripe on his uncinctured outer tunic, and the golden "C" riveted on the -upper leather of his short boots, were worn only by senators. Many stood to -admire his tall figure, stately bearing, and rich dress; and some uttered -words of praise. One remark fell upon his ears with ominous sound: - -"Truly a Roman in birth and in appearance, and well worthy to be the mate -of that beautiful creature, the niece of the late consul Domitilla!" - -{388} - -"I saw the solitary raven flap his wings to-day on a tree in the vestibule -of her palace." - -Aurelian passed on quickly as if he had not heard these words. But he was -influenced like most Romans by the superstition which from the gestures and -flight of birds would trace the adverse or prosperous course of futurity. -Once only did he pause, as a Greek clad in sable tunic carolled in broken -Latin a ditty, the burden of which, as it may throw some light upon our -story, we shall attempt to inadequately render: - - "She loved her lord as her lord loved her; - But him she will not love any more; - To-night to the feast she will not stir, - But she'll sup with the Christian called Theodore, - She will sup with the Christian called Theodore, - And her lover Aurelian she'll love no more; - Another, another has got him before-- - A Christian, a Christian whom she'll adore!" - -"What now, slave! Again taking liberties with noble names! Do you want to -publish me to the whole city, Zoilus?" - -"I admit it. Zoilus is my cognomen, master. It was an ugly mishap, -considering my poetical turn, that made me namesake of the man who maligned -Homer and got burned for his criticism. What a pity they did not give me -the cognomen Homerus or Virgilius. By the lyre of Orpheus! if they did, I -would write an epos like the Iliad or the AEneid, of which you, Aurelian, -would be the hero, and Flavia Domitilla the heroine. You would see into -what hair-breadth 'scapes you would be brought to be rescued by the sharp -end of my poetical stylus. The only thing to be regretted now is that you -will, likely enough, be brought into scrapes and find no escapes from -them." - -"Be silent, slave! I have no time for your jokes," exclaimed the nobleman -in an excited tone. - -"All right, then," said the imperturbable slave, "as you have no time to -receive, I cannot have time to communicate news that does not concern -_me_." - -"Excuse my hasty temper, good Zoilus! I am going to the emperor's feast, -and I fear I am after the appointed hour. Take this," and he slipped into -the other's hand a silver denarius, "it will help to buy a pallium to cover -your unkempt tunic. What about Flavia?" he said in lower but more earnest -tones. - -The silver piece had worked its effect upon the slave's manner, who -replied: "She will not go to the imperial feast. She dislikes the emperor, -though she is his adopted child; and naturally, on account of her uncle's -execution. Moreover, she will not partake of meats blessed in the name of -Jupiter, the father of gods and men, nor of wine poured out in libation to -Bacchus. I suspect she has lost her attachment to you, and is falling in -love with one of those Christians whom she is never done admiring. Look to -it, my noble master! For, from expressions she has let fall, my informant -suspects she has already been espoused to this admirer." - -"And she engaged to me by the emperor himself?" - -"Even this, notwithstanding; she has given herself over to this Christian, -whom she declares she adores." - -"Zoilus! if you are deceiving me, by that oath held sacred in heaven and in -hell, I swear--" - -"Swear not, my lord, until you have put me to the proof: Have I not engaged -to meet you on the night of the 8th of next kalends, to give you an -opportunity of judging on the testimony of your own eyesight? Until then, -farewell And the slave bounded away before Aurelian could say another word, -and chanted as he went: - - "She'll sup with the Christian called Theodore, - And her lover Aurelian shell love no more; - Another, another has got him before-- - A Christian, a Christian, whom she'll adore, - Adore, adore," etc. - -Aurelian, though filled with bitter thoughts, paused to listen, and -muttered as he heard the receding strain, which was now being chanted in -doggerel Greek: "Well, we Romans are called masters of the world; but we -shall yet be mastered by our slaves." There was great reason for the -reflection. -{389} -For the slaves had now grown so numerous in Rome that the Senate feared to -pass a law appointing them a distinctive dress, lest they should thereby -come to the knowledge of their own strength. A law had been also proposed, -though not passed in the legislative council, with the view of lessening -their numbers by employing them in the public quarries and mines and other -severe works, as the Jews had been long before employed as hewers of wood -and drawers of water in the Egyptian bondage. Moreover, about this period -writing and book-knowledge generally were, with very few exceptions, -confined to the slaves in Rome. It was the sunset of the literature whose -noon was lit up by luminaries such as Virgil, Horace, Cicero, and Sallust; -and the few stray rays which yet lingered behind were either confined to -the slave population of the city or, glancing over the Alps and the -Pyrenees, rested upon favored spots in the ultramontane provinces. - -As Aurelian thought over these and other matters he did not notice the -places by which he passed, and soon found himself at the gate of the -vestibule before the emperor's palace. He went through the massive bronze -door into the atrium or hall. Here he waited while the slave, whose office -it was, went to announce his arrival. His thoughts were diverted from the -subjects which had engaged them to the magnificence of the scene around. -The blue sky and brilliant stars above the _compluvium_, which was an -open space through the roof of the atrium, were shut out and eclipsed by -the many-colored lights attached to the marble pillars, white, black, and -variegated, by which the slanting tiles of the roof were supported. -Underneath the _impluvium_, which was an enclosed space corresponding -and proportioned to the open one above, sent up interwoven ellipses of -divers-colored waters through brazen tubes so arranged as to cast a -rainbow-like halo over the whole place. Between the rows of pillars thus -lighted up, receding in lofty and majestic file far as the eye could reach, -and through the _fauces_, or corridors, formed by the chambers beyond -them, there appeared the mellow glow of the lamps around the peristyle in -the distance; while the sound of rushing waters fell agreeably on the ear. -Nearer to him around the walls of the atrium Aurelian observed that the -niches, where were deposited the images of the Emperor's friends and -ancestors, were draped in veils of black, as if in mourning for his cousin -the late consul Domitilla, but in reality because the family history did -not afford many remarkable names beyond those of Vespasian and Titus. - -While Aurelian was thus engaged in examining the splendor of the imperial -residence, the slave who had gone to announce his arrival returned, and -with him the "distributor of seats" in the royal _triclinium_. Led by -the latter, Aurelian entered the _triclinium_, the Roman dining hall, -which was decorated and lighted up in the same manner as the atrium. At the -end of it, on an elevated platform of cedar wood, Domitian was seated on a -throne of ivory inwrought and decorated with gold. The young noble made a -low prostration on bended knees until permitted by touch of the golden -sceptre to arise. - -"Arise, Aurelian!" said the emperor. "To evidence our high consideration -for you, we have delayed our guests ten strokes of the clepsydra. But be -not distressed; we shall hear your explanations at another time. Where" -(these words were added in an undertone) "have you left our fair cousin and -child, Flavia? We expected her to accompany her accepted suitor and future -husband." - -"My sovereign lord and master! the most noble Flavia has been indisposed -for some time, and regrets she cannot be present at the festivities this -evening. Her friend the noble Theodora, wife of the Senator Sisinnius, has -induced her, for change of air, to visit at their residence for some days, -where she will have the advantage of meeting an old and experienced -physician named Clement, who has travelled much in the East and thereby -become acquainted with herbs and drugs that have acquired for him the -repute of a mastery over bodily disease." - -{390} - -"Clement, Clement!" repeated the emperor, striving to recollect himself; "I -have heard of him somewhere before; but we shall talk of these things at a -more fitting time;" and be waved his sceptre to the steward of the banquet. - -Scarcely had the sceptre waved when the eastern side of the immense banquet -hall was opened by some unseen agency, and an archway of vast proportions, -without rent or flaw, was formed, through which the loose-robed slaves were -seen driving a brazen elephant, on whose back was placed the huge abacus on -which the banquet was served. This abacus, of solid silver, had admirable -contrivances for the preservation of the warmth and flavor of every dish; -and the whole repast "from the egg to the apple," including three courses, -was served upon it. The number and nature of the dishes became at a glance -known to the guests, for over each dish the silver or golden likeness of -the fish, bird, or beast which supplied it was supported upon a very thin -wire, so colored as to be invisible in lamplight. Here was the brazen image -of the flamingo; there the golden plumage of the guinea-hen, the famous -_Afra avis_, of the Romans, was outspread without any visible support -in air. At another part the star-eyed tail of the peacock was extended -fan-like, while a turtle and a sturgeon seemed to swim on either side of -it. Every bird, fish, and beast held in repute by the Roman gourmands was -represented floating or flying over this monster server. The slaves, who -pushed it on golden rollers into the triclinium, danced as they advanced to -the music of the flute, the harp, and other instruments. At the sound of a -gong, struck by the head steward, "the distributor of seats" led the guests -to the couches on which they were to recline. Having resigned their boots, -or slippers, to the slaves appointed to receive them, they leaned back, -supporting themselves on their left elbows on the soft couches covered with -purple, embroidered with gold, and bearing the imperial arms. Many of the -females preferred to sit, and for them suitable seats were provided. At -another sound of the gong twenty slaves, in purple tunics and white aprons -sustained on black cinctures, moved into the hall, with motions of head and -foot and hands to suit the music, and removed the covers under which were -placed the materials for the feast. The same movements took place before -and after each of the courses. As soon as the covers for the second course -were taken off, the _scissores_ or carvers cut the solid dishes and -served the various meats according as the servants in waiting on the guests -presented the plates. To show the extent of refined luxury to which the old -Romans of the republic and empire carried things, it may be observed that -the carvers so managed while cutting the dishes as to keep time with the -knives to the music. In fact, the art of carving was a profession in Rome. - -The writer of this hurriedly sketched tale may pause for a little here to -assure the indulgent reader that he has made it a rule in the descriptions, -in the substantial facts of the narrative, and in the lives of the leading -characters to make imagination wholly the handmaid of truth. He is sure -that in the scenes he endeavors to paint he is using the colors supplied -him by pagan and Christian writers of the times. He might point specially -to Polybius, Lampridius, and Plutarch as vouchers for his accuracy in -describing a Roman banquet in the last ages of the republic and the first -of the empire. - -When the third course was over, the elephant and abacus were rolled with -the same accompaniment of music and dance from the room. Then began the -symposium, or drinking-feast. As the repositorium bearing the goblets and -wines was introduced, the ceiling or the triclinium seemed suddenly as if -by magic to disappear, and an immense stage with gorgeous scenery was -lowered into the apartment. -{391} -As it quietly and slowly descended, the voices were heard singing as if -from heaven: - - "Strike the tympan, beat the drum! - Down from heaven we come. - Jupiter nodded--it must be so-- - Down, down to earth below, - To greet the God, Domitian! - - "Domitian is Jove upon earth we know, - Jupiter wills it-it must be so-- - So, we'll beat our shields and our trumpets blow, - We'll launch the spear and we'll draw the bow. - And we'll dance 'mid the flying missiles, O! - Before the God, Domitian! - - "We'll play as we play on Olympus' height, - Where Jupiter grasps the thunder's might - And hurls to earth its lances bright, - And sends from his throne the broad daylight-- - We'll dance as we dance on Olympus' height, - Before the God, Domitian!" - -By the time these lines were ended the stage had taken a stationary -position about six feet from the ground, so that every guest from his bench -or couch could have a full view of the performance. The first thing that -struck the eye was a group of figures, male and female, dressed in various -styles to represent the immortals. Here was Apollo with his lyre and halo; -there was Diana in her huntress garb. Mercury, with his wand and winged -sandals, was flying over the helmeted head of Minerva; while Vulcan, with -the red glow of the furnace on his face, was, with the assistance of the -Cyclops' hammers, forging thunderbolts for Jove. In another part the rustic -Pan, with his goat-ears and oaten pipe, was playing, while the naiads and -fauns in cloud-like Ionic tunics kept dancing as they fled from the -pursuing satyrs. - -Suddenly the scenery is shifted and the stage is filled with -narrow-pointed, straight and double-edged swords fixed perpendicularly with -the blades upward; while a number of persons in close-fitting garments -dance alternately on their feet and hands, in the execution of which they -somersault over the sharp weapons. Again, they time with martial tread to -the quick measure of the Pyrrhic dance, the accompaniment to which was the -rattle of their flying spears on the bronze shields they bore. The scene is -again changed. The lamps are suddenly put out; and a vast chamber with -vaulted roof, through which a subterranean damp oozes, is dimly seen by the -light of a muffled lamp, which only helps to make "the darkness visible." -[Footnote 117] - - [Footnote 117: Tillemont and other historians relate this substantially - in the same way.] - -Along the sides, which are draped in sable cloth, are ranged a number of -coffins equal to the number of guests, each of whom reads his own name in -fiery letters shining out upon one or other of them from the surrounding -gloom; while demons, with snake-like locks and flame-like garments and -black faces, ran in horrible frenzy about, shrieking out the names of the -principal senators present. And a deep, sonorous voice, which seemed to -rise out of the earth, pronounced the following: - - "Hail, monarch of monarchs! whose mighty sway - The nations and tribes of the earth obey, - From the rising sun to the setting day! - - "From the highest Alp to the island cove, - Thy power is felt like the power of Jove - When Olympus shakes at his frown above. - - "The Celtic shout does not pierce the sky, - The Parthian arrows pause as they fly, - When thy name is heard 'mid the battle's cry. - - "When heard from the height of Caucasian snow, - The beard-like woods on its chin bend low, - And the rivers cease down its cheeks to flow. - - "When breathed abroad o'er the ocean waves, - The sea-monsters sink to the rocky caves, - Where, continents under, they scoop their graves. - - "When uttered by spirits among the clouds, - They gather like flocks into frightened crowds, - And bind up the tempest in sable shrouds. - - "The word of thy mouth is the simoom's breath, - Thy sceptre's wave is the scythe of death - Which sweeps all life to the domes beneath. - - "Then how can aught mortal in earth or air, - The might or the power of thy sceptre dare - With the crown or a crucified Jew compare? - Domitian, Domitian! Beware, beware!" - -As the last verse was being chanted, the stage, the voice, and awful -chamber began slowly to ascend, until the last words seemed to fall from -the sky! - - "Domitian! Domitian!! Beware! beware!!" - -{392} - -A hushed terror pervaded the spectators. The cruel character of Domitian -was well known. History records that he could spend whole days in killing -flies with a bodkin; which gave occasion to the witty reply of Vibius -Crispus, who, being asked, "Who is with the emperor?" said, "Not as much as -a fly." It is well known that he had at times ordered the execution of his -most intimate friends and most favored officers; nay, that he had left his -banquet to witness the death-throes of those who had partaken it with him. -Lately he had become more and more suspicious of everyone and everything. -He had conceived a great jealousy of the family and descendants of David, -one of whom he had heard was worshipped by his numerous family as Lord of -lords and King of kings. So much did this fear influence him that he sent -out orders to his civil and military officers in the East to have every -descendant of David, every relative of the Redeemer, arrested and brought -to Rome. In accordance with this order two grandsons of St. Jude, who were, -according to Jewish custom, called "brothers," whereas they were in reality -only cousins, of our Lord, were sent from Judea to Rome, and examined by -the emperor. Having questioned them about their family and about the empire -of their relative, who by his adherents was adored as God, he laid aside -his fears of their rivalry for the throne and dismissed them ignominiously. -[Footnote 118] - - [Footnote 118: Eusebius, Hist. Eccles.] - -They had told him they were only poor peasants living on the proceeds of a -small farm near Jerusalem; and in proof they raised their hands and showed -him the palms roughened and the nails dirty from toil. But though he had -laid aside his fears of these friends of our Lord, he did not cease to -dread the increasing number of true believers. Therefore, as if to be on an -equal elevation, he had some time before the date of the incidents of our -tale issued an edict by which he commanded all his subjects to address him -as a god, and to offer divine worship to his statue! Many citizens who gave -evidence of their appreciating the absurdity of this edict had been put to -death under his own eyes. - -We may imagine, then, the secret feelings of the guests after viewing the -scene that had been presented on the stage. The pantomimic art, which in -ancient Rome and Athens had reached a height of perfection and magnificence -now unknown, had applied all its resources on the occasion to suit the -imperial mood. During the recitation of the verses descriptive of his power -over animate and inanimate nature--whether in air, in earth, or in the -sea--he held his head and sceptre erect as if with the conscious dignity of -the godhead. But when the allusion to an opponent, to "the crown of a -crucified Jew," fell on his ears, his brow lowered, his face darkened and -his eyes flamed. His excitement was increased by observing the impulsive -movements of many present, especially of a young officer of the court who, -as the same allusion was being made, laid his hand upon his sword and -advanced a step to the stage, until drawn back by a lady of mild aspect and -of retiring demeanor. The only person else besides the emperor who noticed -the motions of the young officer was Aurelian, who had conceived a jealousy -of him for some kind attentions paid to Flavia Domitilla. These attentions -were easily accounted for; the officer, as was customary with young -noblemen of wealth, had been out for some years in the suite of the -proconsul of Judea, a relative of Flavia. This circumstance led to an -acquaintance between them. But it was observed by every one except Aurelian -that the young man studiously endeavored to avoid as much as politeness -would allow the company of Flavia as well as of other ladies of the court. -This was the more remarkable considering her youth, her beauty, and her -connection with the imperial family. - -{393} - -The other guests were too engrossed with their fears to observe what had -not escaped the jealous eyes of Domitian and Aurelian. After an interval or -suspense, to enjoy the effects produced by fear upon the guests, Domitian -ordered them to continue the banquet--that the scene they had witnessed was -the work of the pantomimes. This allayed their anxiety; but there was no -zest remaining for enjoyment. Each one saw his own likeness in his -neighbor's pallid face long after the stage had vanished. As soon as the -usual formulas were gone through, they quickly and quietly took leave at an -earlier hour than usual on such occasions, and left the emperor seated amid -his magnificence. - -Aurelian, having with the other guests left the palace at so early an hour, -was glad to have so much time for visiting the house of Sisinnius. He had -not seen Flavia Domitilla for nearly a month. She had been unwell; and, as -often as he called, she sent word that she was not able to leave her room. -He had called each day, and each day received the same answer. He was all -anxiety for her health; for, her ways so artless, and yet so artful, had -woven round his heart a network of loving thoughts and wishes for her -welfare. She had been betrothed to him by the emperor, her cousin, -guardian, and adopted father; and had avowed her attachment for him, and -proved it by the affectionate kindness of her manner. But latterly he -thought she had begun to treat him with coolness and to avoid his society. -Jealousy suggested that her previously avowed affection had been diverted -into another channel, to a different object. Could it be that after all his -efforts to secure her love, after all her professions, she had withdrawn -her affections and bestowed them on that young officer? Such were the -thoughts that held longest possession of Aurelian's mind as he bent his -steps toward the house of Sisinnius. - -As soon as he touched the knocker, which was a ring grasped in a lion's -mouth, the hall door was opened by Nereus, one of Flavia's most favored -slaves. The little dog, the usual inmate of the Roman atrium, bounded in -familiar gumbols about the purple band which bound the lower edge of his -senatorial toga. - -"Down, Hylax!" And he waved away the dog with the pallium he had just taken -off to intrust to the servants until his departure. "I hope your mistress -has recovered from her late indisposition?" said he, addressing Nereus, -who, though humble and respectful in manner and language, seemed to have a -dislike for Aurelian. - -"Not quite recovered, my noble lord. The confinement at home was increasing -the depression of spirits, under which she has been suffering since her -uncle's death." - -The door of an apartment off the atrium--not the triclinium, but a small -_diaeta_, or parlor, where the family spent the winter -evenings--opened and presented Sisinnius to view. - -"Welcome, Aurelian! How so early from the feast? I heard that Apollonius of -Tyana himself was brought from Corinth to aid in the entertainment; and I -wonder to find you here before the sixth hour!" - -"It is true, indeed, that Apollonius was in Rome some time ago. Either he -or the infernal imps must have been there to-night!" - -"You were highly amused, then?" - -"Amused! Domitian's amusements are not likely to suit all tastes." - -He laid aside his pallium and wide-leafed carpentum, and was arranging the -folds of his toga, while Sisinnius in a whisper told him that Theodora, -Flavia, and Clement were inside. After the usual salutations and courtesy -he was introduced to the last named, whose venerable appearance impressed -him deeply. The hand of time had polished the upper part of the stranger's -head to a transparent whiteness through which the blue veins were visible, -and had scattered the snows of some eighty years on the hairs, which, like -a silver crown, encircled his neck and flowed down on his shoulders. His -face was bronzed by long exposure to suns in many lands. -{394} -But there was about it an indescribable sweetness, and a charity beamed in -his piercing eye sure to win the attention and good-will of all. He wore -goat-skin sandals without stockings. The other parts of his dress, though -indicative of citizenship and noble birth, were old and threadbare. The -only ornament he wore was a plain gold ring, on which a cross was engraven. - -Aurelian recognized in Clement the person who, some weeks before, when a -physician was sought to attend one of the human [Footnote 119] victims in -the capitol sacrificed to propitiate the god of war, presented himself and -said: "I am not a physician by profession. But during a long life spent in -foreign lands I have learned some secrets of the healing art. If permitted, -I can relieve the pains of yonder victim." Leave was given; for according -to the augurs it would be a bad omen if the victim expired before the -conclusion of the sacrificial rite. Clement spoke in language which -Aurelian did not understand, and raised his hand over the head of the -sufferer, who, seeing it, brightened into smiles. He then took out a silver -case from his side-pocket and rubbed its contents over parts of the wounded -body; and immediately, before all present, the wounds inflicted by the fire -were healed, and the victim was strong as ever. Recognizing now in the -guest of Sisinnius the visitor of the capitol, Aurelian rejoiced to make -his acquaintance. He rejoiced, too, on account of Flavia, whose health, -dear to him as his own, would, no doubt, be soon restored by the skill of -Clement. - - [Footnote 119: Smith's Dictionary of Antiquities. _Vide - Sacrificium_.] - -"Come, Aurelian," said Sisinnius, "help yourself to some of those Calabrian -pomegranates and to a cyathus of Falernian. You seem to want it sadly, for -you look as pale as if you had seen the ghost of Nero. While you help -yourself, tell us how you fared at the emperor's. Did he by way of disport -order any of those Jews or Christians to be executed?" The Jews and -Christians were during the first centuries considered the same by the -pagans. - -"No! But it might have come to that had the entertainment been prolonged!" -And be related the incidents we have already laid before the reader. When -he spoke of the effect produced on the emperor by the allusion to the -"Crucified Jew," the eyes of Flavia and Theodora met and turned to the face -of Clement. The latter seemed for a time lost to the thought of all about -him. Tears glistened in his eyes, which were sad and thoughtful, while his -white head was bent and his lips moved silently. Sisinnius was too wrapt in -the description of the banquet, and Aurelian too much complimented by the -silence in which they listened to him, to observe the old man. Otherwise, -they, like the two women, would have easily construed the motion of his -lips into the words: "Father, not my will, but thine, be done. But give -wisdom and strength to thy servant." - -"This bodes ill for the Christians," said Sisinnius when Aurelian had -finished. - -"I would not wonder to find a worse edict than that of Nero posted on -brazen tablets in the Campus Martius in a few days. Domitian is under the -impression that they in their private meetings are plotting against his -life and throne. He has already ordered one of the most intimate and -trusted friends of Jesus to be arrested at Ephesus and to be brought in -chains to Rome," said Aurelian. - -At this announcement Clement, who had been a quiet listener, started as if -with sudden pain; then as suddenly recovering his composure, he asked: "Is -it possible they could think of dragging the good old man across the sea in -this wintry weather? The journey would kill him." - -"It is not only possible, but it is a fact," said Aurelian. - -"You know this good old man, then?" asked Sisinnius. - -{395} - -"Know him! Yes, good right have I to know him. There is not a country from -the Pillars of Hercules or the Tin Islands of the North to the sunny steeps -of Asia and syrtes of Africa, in which I have not been and met with many -friends. Most of those I loved and labored with are gone"--he wiped away a -tear--"but of all that remain there is none more worthy, none more -venerated, none more dear to my heart and to the heart of one far greater -than I, than John of Ephesus. He is the last of a generation now almost -passed away--a generation of mighty workers--giants in their way--sent on -earth to lay the foundations of an edifice, the stories of which are to be -laid on age after age until they reach the sky. When he is gone, the last -direct link between that generation and the present will be taken away. -Already the work they commenced has fallen on frail and feeble shoulders." -Here the speaker, who had forgotten his company in the warmth of his -language, bent his head upon his breast, and again his lips moved silently. -All present looked on wonderingly: there was something in the old man's -appearance to excite their admiration. - -Soon after, Clement rose to depart. Theodora and Sisinnius endeavored to -induce him to remain. He had spent nights from time to time in their house, -when the former had been sick; but now he was not to be moved. - -"Young men!" he said as be rose, "we may or we may not meet again, No one -can count on another day; it is better to arrange tonight what the morrow -might not dawn upon." Theodora and Flavia bent their eyes inquiringly upon -him: addressing them, he said: "To you I address the words often said to me -by one I journeyed with for many years: 'Be always ready with lamps -trimmed. The shadow of this world is passing away. The night is at hand; -but remember there is a bright and lasting dawn beyond it.' Allow an old -man, whose pilgrimage in this world will not be long, to invoke his -blessing upon you all." He raised his outspread hands, and the ring with -the engraven cross shone out as he solemnly said, "May my blessing and the -blessing of the unknown God descend upon you. May he soon gather you all -into that glorious edifice he has sent his workmen to build on earth, and -there manifest to you the _admirable light_ and beauty of his -countenance!" While he spoke, Flavia and Theodora bent their heads, as if -some unseen influence was descending upon them; while Sisinnius and -Aurelian attributed the manner of Clement to an eccentricities not -previously noticed. - -After Clement's departure, Aurelian approached Flavia to express his -anxiety about her health. She was agitated. He saw that her face did not -wear the sunshine welcome and the loving smile with which it heretofore -brightened at his approach. She seemed sad, yet not unhappy, but anxious to -avoid his presence and his look. Could the insinuations of Zoilus be true? -Formerly when she went from home, or when she expected to meet him, she -took trouble to heighten her great natural beauty of appearance and manner -by artificial assistance. Her toilet table and attendants were models for -the Roman ladies, who spent enormous sums on Asiatic cosmetics and Ionian -female slaves to aid them in dressing. All seemed now changed with Flavia. -Her dress was a mourning one of brown cloth, such as the wives of Roman -shopkeepers might wear, drawn modestly about her from chin to feet, without -a single ornament. Her hair was bound in no Persian head-dress, as was then -the fashion with high-born dames; but was folded unpretendingly about her -head, so as to conceal as much as possible the fair proportions of her full -and polished forehead. Her dark eyes, usually so full of hearty affection, -were not upturned as of old to his. He saw something was out of joint. -Could it be the effect of sickness? If so, he would pour out all his -fortune, melt down the silver and golden images of his ancestors, at -Clement's feet, and beseech him to cure her. Or could it be that she had -transferred her affections from himself to the young officer lately -returned from Judea? Such were the thoughts flitting through the mind of -Aurelian as he found himself alone with Flavia. Sisinnius had beckoned -Theodora away. - -{396} - -"Flavia!" he at length said, "in what have I offended? You appear -distressed at my approach. Who can have a better right to that affection -you always professed for me than I, who shall call you by a new endearing -title on the next Kalends?" - -"The next Kalends! You cannot be in earnest, Aurelian!" she said. - -"Your guardian and adopted father, the emperor, has chosen that day for the -fulfilment of the promise you have made me. It is a day to be for ever -marked with Cretan chalk in my memory," he replied. - -"But it cannot be! It is impossible!" - -"Why not? How?" he asked. - -"O Aurelian! you are too noble, too generous, you have been always too kind -to me to force me to fulfil a promise which can never bring me aught but -misery!" - -"Misery? Why, have you not always professed the greatest confidence and -love of me? Have I done anything to lose them? You admit I have not. How, -then, can the fulfilment of your engagement make you miserable?" - -"I shall never," she answered, "forget your kindness day after day to me, -and I shall always love you as my brother. But any other relationship there -cannot be!" - -"I see it all plainly," he said. "You too have been infected by this new -plague: you have withdrawn your affections to bestow them on another?" - -"And suppose I have," said Flavia, grasping at another mode of calming his -excitement. "You are too high in rank, too proud to accept the hand of one -who cannot bestow her heart with it?" - -"By Hercules! I know who this Christian enchanter is, and by the honor of a -Roman knight--" - -"Then, if you know him well, you cannot blame me for bestowing my -affections on him. He is so beautiful, so noble, so glorious beyond the -sons of men. His teeth are whiter than milk, and the words of his mouth are -like the dripping of the honey-comb. He is encompassed with perpetual -youth, and crowned with a comeliness which shall never fade. All these -enduring qualities he promises to confer on me if I will love and serve -him!" - -"Love him then, infatuated girl! But serve him you never shall, if the -sword and fortune of Aurelian can prevent it!" - -"Aurelian, my brother! I will pray and ask him that you also may know him; -for, if you did, you could not help loving and serving him." - -"Do you wish to mock my misery," he bitterly asked, "now that you have -blighted all on which my hopes of happiness rested? But, Flavia! remember I -am not to be put off, if the power of Domitian can crush this Christian -viper! Remember your uncle's fate!" - -And turning be left the room. - -TO BE CONTINUED. - ------- - -{397} - - From The Dublin University Magazine. - - The Libraries Of The Middle Ages And Their Contents. - - - Father Hardouin On The Classics. - -The fourteenth century was doubtlessly an era of great literary activity -with regard to transcribing and filling libraries with copies of the Latin -Scriptures, of theological works in general, and of the classics. The -learned and eccentric Jesuit, Father John Hardouin, fixed on it for the -composition of all the supposed classic treasures of antiquity which we -possess, except the works of Cicero, Pliny's Natural History, the Satires -and Epistles of Horace, the Georgics and nine Eclogues of Virgil, the -comedies of Plautus, the poems of Homer, and the history of Herodotus. All -the rest were the brain-produce of the cloistered scholars of the -thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, especially the latter, as being -distinguished by the rage for collecting manuscripts and forming libraries. -Not only were these supposed fruits of the classic pagan tree the growth of -the Christian intellect of that late time, but the works of St. Augustin -and his disciples were composed for them nine hundred years after their -funerals.[Footnote 120] - - [Footnote 120: John Hardouin, the son of a bookseller of Quimper, was - born in 1646. He entered at an early age into the Society of Jesus. He - soon distinguished himself by acute perception and a great memory, but - still more by cherishing such paradoxes as the above. The AEneid, - according to him, was the work of a Benedictine of the thirteenth - century, and was an allegorical description of St. Peter's journey to - Rome; and Horace's _Lalage_ was a type of the Christian religion. - The antique metals were all modern inventions, each letter representing - a word. "You are quite right, father," said an antiquary to him one - day. "These letters found on so many metals, Con. Os., and supposed to - stand for 'Constantinopli Obsignatum,' (stamped [sealed] at - Constantinople,) are evidently intended to read, 'Cusi Omnes Nummi - Officina Benedictina'--all moneys struck in the Benedictine Mint." He - was a most firm believer in all the dogmas of revealed religion, but a - thorough Pyrrhonist in human traditions. He classed Jansenism, - Thomassin, Malebranche, Quesnel, Arnauld, Nicole, Pascal, Descartes, Le - Grand, and Regis among the atheists. They were Cartesians, merely - another name for unbelievers. His learning was most extensive and his - works numerous. He died in Paris in 1729 at the age of 88.] - -There was in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries a literary warfare -between the Classicists and Romancists as real as that which sprung up in -Paris before the three days of July, but much less noisy. We find among the -145 volumes bequeathed to the library of the church of Langres in 1365, by -Jean de Saffres, about two dozen of romances whose titles deserve to be -remembered. They were Renart, (Reynard the Fox,) Girart de Roussillon, -Garin la Loherain, Aimeri de Narbonne, Raoul de Cambrai, Bueves de -Barbastre,[Footnote 121] Jean dit le Lanson, Parise la Duchesse, Merlin, -Courberau d'Oliferne, Gibert dit Desrée, les Sept Sages, les Machabées, -Troie la Grant, (Troy the Great,) Florimont, la Rose, Beaudoux, (Sweet -Beauty or Beautifully Sweet.) Clyges, Perceval le Gallois, Basin et -Gombaud, Amadas, (Amadis, qu.,) Galaad, Lancelot, Tristan, (Sir Tristrem.) - - [Footnote 121: A cherished manual of our youth was Wild Roses or - Cottage Tales, published by Anne Lemoine in some court whose name has - escaped our memory. One of the stories was "Barbastal, or the Magician - of the Forest of Bloody Ash!" Was _Bueves de Barbastre_ the - original of that terrible and interesting narrative?] - - - The Care Bestowed On The Libraries. - -We may be certain that St. Benedict had not such books as these in his mind -when he composed the following prayer of blessing on the works to be copied -by his monks, a prayer which has been preserved in the Abbey of -Fleuri-sur-Loire: - - "O Lord, let the virtue of thy Holy Spirit descend on these books; let it - purify them, bless them, sanctify them. Sweetly enlighten the hearts of - those who read them, and impart their true sense to them. Grant us also - to be faithful to the precepts emanating from thy light, in accomplishing - them by good works, according to thy will" - -{398} - -The same respect for good books is found in an the abbeys of the -Benedictines. The very high value the religious communities set on rare -works connected with their order, subjected the monks of the abbey of St. -Denis to a cruel imposition in 1389. An imposter, such as some who have -practised mighty deceptions in our times, a supple Greek named Paul Tagari, -passing himself off for the patriarch of Constantinople, obtained thirty -thousand crowns of gold from the king of Cyprus, on imparting the royal -unction to his majesty, and a magnificent reception from the pope at -Avignon, as he held out strong assurances of the return of the Greek schism -to the faith. He announced to the simple monks of St. Denis the existence -of some manuscripts from the hand of the very patron of their order, Saint -Dionysius the Areopagite, who had heard the words of life from the lips of -St. Paul himself, when he spoke to the news loving people of Athens on the -hill of Mars. Two brothers set out on foot to Marseilles, and, deluded by -the knave's representations, journeyed on from that to Rome. The Greek had -got their money, but they got nothing by their long journey but the labor -and expenses of performing it, and the chagrin of the disappointment. - -The monks of Cluni were particular in the illustrating and the binding of -their volumes. As a general rule the outsides of the volumes in the abbey -libraries were not attractive. The Bernardine houses of Citeaux and -Clairvaux affected the plainest style. We may here give an instance of the -care taken of the precious volumes, by quoting the library rules of the -canons regular: "The _armarius_ (literally, guardian of shelves or -presses) should apply labels to the backs, catalogue the volumes, go over -them twice or thrice in the year, see that they were not crowded, and that -every volume was in its place." In case of a loan he was to record the -borrower's address, the title of the volume, and the deposit received, -which in all cases should be the registered value of the book. When the -book was highly prized, he was not to give it out without the express -sanction of the prior or abbot. He had charge of the parchment, the ink, -the pens, the bodkins, and the penknives, and he kept an eye on the intern -and extern copyists. The writers of funeral billets and of business letters -were also under his control. He provided his indoor copiers with a quiet -apartment where no one had right of ingress but the abbot, the prior, or -the sub-prior. He examined the purity of the texts, the binding, the -condition of the volumes. He kept the volumes in daily use, such as the -Bibles, the accounts of the passion, the lives of the saints, and the -homilies in a place accessible to all, regulated the readings during meal -times, and corrected faults committed in reading or chanting, and arranged -processions. Our Benedictine librarian had no sinecure. - - - The Rich Libraries Of the Begging Brothers. - -The Dominicans were no less careful of their literary treasures. In a -general chapter of the order, held at Saragossa in 1309, it was forbidden -to every prior, sub-prior, or officer commissioned by them, to bestow, -sell, lend, or pledge any book of which there was but one copy in the -respective houses. Whoever was guilty of infraction was to be deprived of -his faculties (official to wit) for three years. The theological works -should not be sold out of the order. Whoever disobeyed should, till the -restitution of the property, fast on bread and water one day in every week. -A student was privileged, in cases of urgent necessity, to sell a book, the -Bible and the great work of St. Thomas of Aquino excepted. - -The English Richard de Bury before mentioned found the Dominicans the most -keen-scented and zealous retrievers of rare treasures in bibliography. - -{399} - - "When," said he, "they traverse seas and deserts, when they search the - recesses of convents, they never forget me. What beast of chase can - escape these keen hunters? What fish so small can wriggle out of their - nets?" - -He goes on, mentioning how they despatch to him sermons lately preached in -Rome, discourses delivered at a Paris university, and adds: - - "We are now about visiting their convents and their books. There in a - profound poverty we shall discover untold of treasures. We shall find in - their baskets and their wallets, along with such crumbs as men fling to - the dogs, the unleavened bread of proposition, the bread of angels, the - granaries of Joseph filled with wheat, all the riches of Egypt, all the - sumptuous presents which the queen of Sheba offered to Solomon. Yes! - having come into the vineyard at the eleventh hour, the friars-preachers - have secured the richest vintage." (Victor le Clerc.) - -These Begging Brothers, being a rich and numerous branch, secured the most -valuable works everywhere. The Archbishop of Armagh having sent four -theological students to complete their course at Oxford, they were obliged -to return as they went, the Mendicant friars having bought up all the -books: so that the poor Irishmen could neither borrow nor buy the Bible nor -any theological work. - -Divers presents were made from time to time to these lovers of books. In -the end of a MS. of the Dominicans at Clermont, containing the pastoral of -St. Gregory, and some tracts of St. Jerome and St. Isadore of Seville, is -found the following note: - - "The Seigneur Peter d'Andre, citizen of Clermont, licentiate in both - laws, (LL.D.,) at first bishop of Noyon, then of Clermont, and finally of - Cambrai, has given us this book and many others. Wherefore we bind - ourselves to Celebrate his anniversary [Footnote 122] in perpetuity. You - who read in this book, pray to God for him, for he has done us great - kindnesses, and we owe much to him, as well as to his family. Let him who - shall wickedly efface these words be Anathema! So be it! Dated on St. - George's day, the 23d of the month of April, 1377." - - [Footnote 122: That is, celebrate divine offices for the repose of - soul.] - -The Franciscans possessed poor libraries compared with those of the -Dominicans. Indeed the accumulation of the profane writers seemed -inconsistent with the spirit of the order. The following story was put in -currency either to advance the views of the body or throw ridicule on their -fear or neglect of classic literature. We incline to the first theory, and -will give the outline of the little drama with as little irreverence as we -can. - -There were two Friars Minors in a convent at Marseilles, one the guardian -of the library, the other the reader, and both attentive students of the -rare old pagan classics. On the same night the summons came to both, and a -monk of their order, but living in a distant province, had a vision at the -moment of their departure which terrified him not a little. He saw them -passing to judgment, preceded by two mules heavily laden with books, and it -appeared to him that their patron, St. Francis, was commissioned to examine -into their lives, and pass sentence. The awe-struck monk then heard the -following questions and answers: "What use made you of these books?" "We -read them." "Did you act as they recommended?" "By no means." "Then as it -was through a principle of vanity and in contempt of your holy law of -poverty you amassed so many volumes, and left neglected that which God -ordained, you and your books shall!" ...... The poor monk awoke terrified -beyond expression, and was confirmed in his utter neglect of Homer, Virgil, -and Horace, and in his predilection for the study of the Bible and the -early fathers. - - - The Sorbonne. - -If the universities had heard the above narrative, it did not make much -impression on them. They multiplied books--the university of Paris -particularly; but this last was unprovided with a suitable lodgment for -them as well as for itself, and was obliged to borrow accommodation for its -assemblies from the establishment of the Mathurins, and for its sermons on -great occasions, the pulpit of the Dominicans, corner of the Rue Saint -Jacques. -{400} -It left to posterity only one library of importance, that of the -Sorbonne. [Footnote 123] - - [Footnote 123: This much spoken of institution was founded by Robert, a - canon of Cambrai, born in the village of Sarbon, in the Ardennes, in - 1201. He was much endeared to Louis IX, (St. Louis) by his learning and - piety, and became his chaplain. He conceived the project of an - institution in which clergymen supported by government might - gratuitously instruct poor students in theology, and thus give great - assistance to the university. St. Louis warmly approving his design, - the institution was opened in 1252 with sixteen poor scholars selected - from England, Gaul, Normandy, and Picardy, the four nations so called. - Four German scholars were afterward affiliated. Each candidate for - admission was obliged to maintain these propositions against all - opponents one day from five A.M. to seven P.M. The institution - continued to maintain its reputation for theological science down to - the first revolution. It was reestablished, and still exists.] - -Among the rare old collections of manuscripts, that of the Sorbonne -deserves honorable mention. In 1290 it included 1017 volumes. About that -time a heroic socius simply calling himself "John," seeing so many volumes -never taken off the shelves nor opened, owing to the want of a catalogue, -set to the work, and made out one to the best of his abilities, assorting -the books into a few general classes. He arranged the works in each class -by the authors' names, and after the title he copied a few words of the -commencement--a very useful proceeding. Generally the books in the convents -were only lent to the brothers or other inmates of the house, or to some -one of the order; but in the Sorbonne library the volumes were freely lent -to all applicants on depositing somewhat more than the value of the work in -gold, silver, or some more valuable book, the rule being _Extraneo sub -juramento_-to an extern--under oath, (to return the work.) - -We find the lending system in full vigor with most of the libraries either -gratis or at a very trifling charge. Besides the catalogues, they possessed -at the Sorbonne a registry for the lending department. In this registry -were not only marked the opening words of the first page, but also those of -the third, sometimes those of the last leaf but one, in order that, if the -borrower was rogue enough to return a volume different from the one -borrowed, he might be easily detected. It is a matter worth attention, the -low prices set on books in common use by ordinary folk or by students. -Tullius de Officiis, de Senectute et de Amicitia was valued at decem -sols--say five pence sterling. Allowing even for the high value of money at -the time in relation to that of our day, the price seems out of all -proportion with the materials of the book and the time bestowed on the -writing. Baron Tauchnitz at this moment would make the poorest student pay -about half a florin for it, notwithstanding the aid of movable type and -steam presses. - -Some of the works in this register were distinguished by the word -_catenatus_, (chained to its place,) others by _deficit_. Among -books in this category were most of the Libri in Gallico. These were called -romances, whatever the subject. Thus we find Romancium de Rosa, Romancium -quod incipit Miserere mei, (one of the Seven Penitential Psalms;) Romancium -de decem praeceptis, sine rigmo, et dicitur Gallice, (romance of the Ten -Commandments unrhymed and issued in the French language;) Le libre roiaus -(roiaulx, royal) de Vices et Virtus (sic): Incipit Ce sont li X -commandemens. - -From the year 1321 they began to bestow or sell numbers of the less -important works, for the library had outgrown the calculated proportions, -and such things as the students' _cahiers_ (copy books) and old -sermons only took up valuable space. - -The learned Bishop of Durham bequeathed his valuable library to the -university of Oxford in 1344; and actuated by the same good spirit, left -directions that the books should be lent even as the works in the Sorbonne -on receiving sufficient security. - -{401} - - Unprincipled Book Borrowers. - -Many were the deplorable losses of valuable books incurred by lending but -yet the practice was productive of too many and too great benefits to be -discontinued. No one in our days, except a true bibliomaniac or the keeper -of a circulating library, can enter into the sore feelings of abbot or -rector of a university when the invaluable MS. was either lost or returned -damaged. Such a heart-scald was inflicted on Peter called Monoculus, -(one-eyed,) abbot of Clairvaux, when a book lent to a neighboring abbot was -returned as wet as if it had been placed under a water-pipe. Observe the -rascality of the messenger! He came by night, made a great bustle, turned -off the attention of the unsuspicious librarian, got another volume -instead, and departed at a very early hour to escape a perquisition. This -was in 1187. In the next century the Abbot Philip, with feelings soured by -such instances of want of principle, would not lend the tracts of St. -Augustin, humbly and earnestly demanded. No; there they were--too large to -be carried away. "His dear brother was welcome to send an accredited writer -to make a copy." - -Proprietors of valuable books became so chary from sad experience, that -unless the messenger who came to borrow was provided with a good steed, he -would not be entrusted with the treasure. This supposes some distance to -separate lender from borrower. - -Saint Louis and Charles the Wise were liberal in bestowing and lending. -Borrowers, as has been their custom since the days of Job, were found -frequently false in their vows, and after the reign of poor Charles VI., -_deficit_ was found in multiplied instances in the royal register -after the names of works in request. So strong was the desire among -lettered people to be the owners of valuable works that a certain learned -monk was not considered above the temptation of what some lawyers have -termed _conveyancing_. In a life of St. Bernard it is related that one -day at Clairvaux he thus addressed three novices: "One of you will make his -escape this night: let the others watch and not allow him to take away -anything." Two fell asleep, the spirit of evil sitting very heavy on their -eyelids. The third, who staid awake, saw about daybreak two giants enter, -and place under the nostrils of one of the sleepers a roast fowl encircled -by a serpent. Roused by the deluding smell, he got up, approached the -library, forced open the door, and was about making off with some of the -literary treasures. Being stopped by his fellow-students, he attempted to -scale the wall, but being prevented and still remaining impenitent, he lost -his reason, and continued in that state till be died. - -In some of the old abbeys the place of the library is still to be found -sunk in the thickness of the wall, as well as the desks of wood or stone -before it, fixed there for the behoof of the copyists. - -Fires aided the class of knavish borrowers in destroying the labors of the -learned and their copiers. Twenty-two thousand volumes were reported as -burned at Saint Vicent at Laon. The entire books of Livy were lost, if some -people are to be trusted, at the Benedictine abbey of Malmesbury. A savant -said he saw the Treatises on the Republic, by Cicero, in a certain convent -in 1517, and when he inquired some time after for it, the reply was, that -they had been _furto praerepti_, [Footnote 124] (thievishly -abstracted.) - - [Footnote 124: Cardinal de Mai was enabled to rescue a portion of the - work. A copy of his edition was published in London in 1828, with a - fac-simile of a page of the palimpsest exhibiting the ancient and - modern letters.] - -Besides strong locks and vigorous anathemas, chains were used to secure -some of the most valued volumes from pilfering fingers. Some suspected -books were even fastened to their shelves with stout nails, as tradition -relates to have happened to Roger Bacon's works at the hands of his -unscientific brethren, Lord Litton's Friar Bungay being probably the most -active on the occasion. Under the treatment of the nails the book could not -be read. A relic of the old custom has remained till now in some churches -of Florence, where missals and rituals may be read under wire gratings, and -even the leaves turned over. - -{402} - - Unworthy Curators. - -As a rule libraries in the possession of kings and lords were not as -carefully watched as those in convents. A remarkable exception to -conventual care is recorded by Boccaccio when relating a visit to the -Benedictines of Mount Cassino. He found the door of the library left open, -and the books covered by a thick coat of dust, grass growing on the -windows, the volumes imperfect, the margins clipped, and everything -denoting the greatest negligence. On inquiring the cause of the injury to -the volumes, he learned that they erased the writing from the vellum to -write psalters (the Seven Penitential Psalms) for young people on them, and -clipped off the margins to receive short prayers. About the same time the -French king's library was not better secured. It was near the falconry, and -the new librarian Giles Malet, apprehensive that the "birds and other -beasts" would take the liberty of coming in and injuring the volumes, the -wire-worker got eighteen golden francs for applying wire screens to the -windows. - -At the same convent of Mount Cassino, Mabillon saw the remains of a -manuscript of the tenth century, converted to covers. Montfaucon was -informed by the archbishop of Rosano that one of his predecessors being -rather annoyed by a succession of curious scholars to inspect some Greek -documents in his possession, hid them in the earth to get rid of the -annoyance. [Footnote 125] - - [Footnote 125: The first of these two eminent scholars was born in the - diocese of Rheims in 1632, and became a Benedictine monk at St. Maur, - same diocese, at the age of 21. Being employed at Saint Denys to show - the curiosities of the place, he fortunately broke a glass which had - once belonged to Virgil! He received his _congé_ in consequence. - His next employment was on the lives of the Saints of the Benedictine - order, the Spicilegium, and when his brethren of St. Maur were editing - the works of the fathers he was entrusted with those of St. Bernard. - Being sent by Colbert into Germany to collect for the library archives - of France, he made many valuable acquisitions. The celebrated abbot of - La Trappe, De Rancé, having contended that many in a religious state - should not distract their attention with literature, Mabillon was - appointed to answer him, a duty which he performed with great effect, - but in a very mild manner. Le Tellier presented him to Louis XIV., by - whom he was graciously received. The learned Du Cange being consulted - by a stranger on some abstruse points, sent him to Dom Mabillon. "You - have applied to an ignorant person," said D. M. "Go to my master in - erudition, M. de Cange." "Why!" said the other, "it was he who directed - me to you." This modest and devout and learned man died in Paris in - 1707 at the age of seventy-five. Among his chief works is that history - of the Benedictine order, and a work on diplomacy.] - -Notwithstanding the care shown in influential quarters by heads of -religious houses, by kings, by universities, and even the threats of -excommunication issued against all pilferers or destroyers of good books, -many instances of cruel neglect such as those quoted occurred. The curators -of the Sainte Chapelle of Bourges felt so little interest in their literary -property that the library was converted into a fowl-house, and valuable -works were discovered there by sorrowful visitors, lying open on the desks, -it being hard to say whether they were worse treated by the feathered or -the unfeathered two-legged animals. These negligences notwithstanding, the -work of conserving and reproducing standard works in the classics, and -others in the native tongue, went on vigorously, the brave laborers little -aware of the mighty aid near at hand for lightening and abridging the labor -of hands and pens, and even unable to conceive the possibility of the -results of a few mechanical appliances to the rapid and almost infinite -multiplication of literary works, a single copy of which required such -close application, and such a length of time for its production. - -If Saint Louis, when painfully increasing his library in the Sainte -Chapelle, volume by volume, and at slow intervals, had been vouchsafed in -one of his nightly visions the knowledge of the art and mystery of -printing, and, while his whole being was filled with joy and admiration, -suddenly awoke, and found all the steps of the process completely vanished -from his memory, what anguish would have seized on him for a time, and with -what disgust he would continue to witness the snail-like progress of a -book, word by word, and line by line, till the writer reached the colophon. -{403} -However, the possibility of what we now look on as a commonplace privilege -and convenience never disturbed the equanimity of the earnest laborers of -the fourteenth century, and they performed their daily tasks with patient -content, and frequently with enjoyment. - - - Lay Libraries and Popular Fictions. - -The Bibliotheque Royal dates its origin from a collection in the Sainte -Chapelle of Saint Louis's palace, made by the good king for his own special -reading, as well as for that of his friends of good taste. Something was -done by his successors, but the real history of the royal library begins -with Charles V., surnamed the "Wise." - -Old house-keeping accounts preserved till the great fire on 27th October, -1737, and then partially destroyed, have put it into the power of -archaeologists to point out that particular tower of the Louvre called the -Library Tower. There were two floors wainscotted with _boìs -d'Irlande_--shillela oak, as we may suppose--vaulted with cypress wood, -and all ornamented with bas-reliefs. The painted windows were furnished -with brass wire and iron bars. There were _lutrines_, (choristers' -desks,)' _pupitres tournants_, (desks revolving on pivots,) and some -of these were brought from the palace. Thirty small chandeliers and a -silver lamp were lighted when evening came, and thus the students were -enabled to study at night. - -From some of the household accounts of Charles V. still in preservation, we -learn that this Irish oak, to the amount of four hundred and eighty pieces, -was presented in 1364 to the Wise King, to be used in the building of his -castle, the donor being the seneschal of Hainault. The chief part of the -volumes in the library of the Louvre were in the French tongue. - -Besides the pieces of native literature already mentioned, we may here -quote the following as the established favorites: - - Romances About Charlemagne And His Peers: - Berte, Roland et Olivier, Roncevaux, Merlin, Gaidon, le Voyage à - Jerusalem, Ferabras, Garin de Monglane, Dame Aye, Amis et Amile, - Jordain de Blaives, Ogier le Danois, (Holger the Dane,) Beuve - d'Aigremont, les Quartre Fils d'Aymon, Maugis, Aubri le Bourgoing, Gui - de Nanteuil, Beuve de Hanstone, Basin, Carlon, Anseis de Carthage, - Guillaume au Court Nez. - - Tales Of The Round Table: - La Mort d'Artus, le Saint Graal, Gauvain, l'Atre Perilleux, (Castle - Perilous,) Glorion de Bretagne, Giron le Courtois (Sir Gawain, qu.) - Meliadus, and those already mentioned. - - Poems And Romances: - Cleomedes, Blancandin, Gerart de Nevers, le Comte de Poitiers, Flore et - Blanche-fleur, Gautier d'Aupais, Gui de Warwick, Meraugia, la Manckine, - Robert le Diable. - - Poems On Classic Subjects: - Troie, Enéas, Narcissus, la Prise de Thèbes, (the Taking of Thebes,) le - Siège d'Athènes, Ypomedon, Thesalus, Alexandre, Jules César, Vespasien. - - Poems On Religious Traditions: - les Machabées, la Passion, les Trois Maries, Barlaam et Josaphat, Lives - of the Saints and Miracles. - - Poems On Modern Subjects: - Godefroi de Bouillon, le Voeu du Paon, (the Vow of the Peacock,) Songs, - Fabliaux, collections of stories, such as the Dolopathos, allegorical - compositions, as la Rose, le Renart, la Poire, l'Escoufle, instructive - compositions like l'Image du Monde, le Livre de Charité, les - Bestiaires, les Lapidaires, books of hunting, etc. - -Many of these volumes were richly bound, and liberally paid for. The -Duchess of Brabant, in 1369, paid to Maitre Jean six sheep for binding a -French book. -{404} -In 1376, Godfrey Bloc (suitable name!) charged his patron, the Duke of -Brabant, seven sheep and a half for binding Meliadus, and in 1383, twelve -sheep for binding the Saint Graal, called in the bill by its other title, -Joseph of Arimathea. - -In the age of which we are treating Greek was little studied or known. The -scholars were ignorant of the Greek historians, of the dramatic poets, even -of Homer, of whom the poet Petrarch said, when his eyes first rested on a -copy, "Your Homer is dumb to me, or rather I understand him not." -Boccaccio, when young, attempted to translate him. Some Dominicans studied -the language, but it was for the sake of their sermons, not to be able to -peruse Homer, or even St. Chrysostom or St. Basil. The Greeks were -schismatics, and everything coming from them was liable to a moral -quarantine. The works of Aristotle and some others were accessible in Latin -translations. - -It is time to glance at the other subjects which, along with the classics -and the romances in the native tongue, occupied the minds of the scholars -of the fourteenth century, and filled the books they produced with such -care and patience. - - - The Educational Cursus of the Fourteenth Century. - -All the humanities of the day were included in the Trivium and the -Quadrivium, the first comprising grammar, rhetoric, and dialectics, and the -second, arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. This was apparently a -strait circle for human intelligence to move in at freedom, but the prime -masters in the intellectual craft endeavored to enlarge the various -compartments to their widest extent. Thus into rhetoric crept poetry, -epistolary correspondence, didactics, and translation. With dialectics came -in philosophy entire. "Aristotle and his numerous interpreters," among whom -were many saints, authorized free discussions on the highest abstractions -of thought, on the natural sciences, on physiology and the curative art, on -politics, and even on common law. Thus, without going out of the Trivium, -see what a vast amount of facts were lugged in, analyzed, and discussed. In -dialectics no subject was let drop till it was turned in every point of -view, analyzed, and established in true or fancied relation to every other -thing. - - - Grammar. - -They were not at all scant--these earnest seekers--in grammatic manuals. -They had their "Large Donatus," their "Small Donatus," and the commentary -on Donatus by Remy of Anxerre; Priscian, entire and in abridgments; Bede's -metres, and several modern works. Those not content with the mere -enunciation of the old rules, would moralize them something in this style: - - "'What is a prenomen?' [Footnote 126] _Man_ is thy nomen, - _sinner_ is thy prenomen. So when you pray to God, make use only of - thy prenomen, and say, 'O Heavenly Father, I invoke not thy name as man, - but I implore thy pardon as sinner.'" - - [Footnote 126: In Caius Julius Caesar, _Caius_ is the prenomen, - corresponding to our Christian name, _Julius_ is the nomen or - family name, _Caesar_ the adnomen, derived from some particular - event or circumstance.] - -Wonderful were the applications of even such simple things as the four -(five) declensions. The first declension was from the obedience of God to -the suggestion of the devil. Eve made this declension. The second is from -the obedience of God to the obedience to the woman. This declension was -made by Adam. The third declension is from Paradise to this world; the -fourth from this world to hell. - -Analogies of grammar and piety were often of a slight and whimsical tissue. -Some of them might be classed with modern conundrums, thus. "Why is the -preposition a theme of pleasure to the elect? Because _Illi praeponuntur -damnandis._" "Why does an interjection resemble the sufferings of the -damned? Because it is the expression of the soul by an unmeaning sound." - -{405} - -Such was the tendency of the time for extracting moral conclusions, that -Ovid's Metamorphoses served as an excellent text-book for the learned -Dominican Thomas Walleis, for the enunciation of a series of moral axioms -which the Epicurean poet of Augustus's court never dreamed of for a moment. -Philippe de Vitri, friend to Petrarch, made a Latin prose version of the -book, and educed Christian dogmas from the least austere of the tales. - -The attention paid by our fourteenth century scholars to their Latin -grammar, and their aptitude to convert it to as many uses as the Knave in -the folk story did his pack of cards, ceases to excite much wonder when it -is recollected that a practical grammar of the native language at the time -was a complete desideratum. What a falling was that from the state of -things when the Canterbury pilgrims may be supposed to have collected at -the Tabard Inn in Southwark, and when the trouvères told and sung their -lays. Every Chaucerian will recall at once the sweet nun, Madame -Englentyne: - - "That of hire smylyng was ful simple and coy; - Hire grettest ooth was but by Seint Loy; - Entuned (the service) in hire nose ful semyly. - And Frensch she spak ful faire and fetyaly. - After the scole of Strattford atte Bowe. - For Frensch of Paris was to hire unknowe." - -French must consequently have been taught with more or less attention to -grammar rules long before the period with which this paper is occupied, and -it is a case of comfort to archaeologists that a French grammar exists -written by Gautier de Biblesworth in the thirteenth century, for the -instruction of English natives in that language, and principally for Lady -Dionysia de Monchensi, of the county of Kent, wife to Count Hugh de Vere. -The author in his preface modestly announced it as "Le Tretys Ke (qui) -Mounsire Gauter de Bibelesworth fist (fit) a ma Dame Dionysie de Mounchenay -pur aprise de Language." [Footnote 127] Master Biblesworth, if that was his -name, mixed his grammatical rules with educational precepts, beginning very -properly at the birth of his pupil, and naming the different parts of the -body, terms of agriculture, domestic economy, hunting, fishing, and -gardening, and all conveyed in octosyllabic verse, with the slightest -possible pretension to poetry. - - [Footnote 127: "The treatise which Monsieur Walter de Blblesworth has - composed for My Lady, Dionysie de Mounchenay, to learn the language," - etc.] - -That people with some pretensions to education took pride in speaking the -"Frensch of Paris" with propriety long before the fourteenth century, is -evinced by the boast of the Picard trouvère, Guernes, who recited his poem -at the tomb of Saint Thomas of Canterbury in 1173: - - "Mes languages est buens car en France ful nez." [Footnote 128] - - [Footnote 128: "My language is good, for in France was I born." The - reader will remark the Latin instead of the modern French form for the - verb _was_.] - -Quenes de Bethunes, a contemporary and authoress of several fine songs, -excused herself for using provincial words, for "she was of Artois, not of -Pontoise." A century later, the poets mention the request in which -professors of French were among foreigners. They relate how "good Queen -Bertha of the long feet spoke French like any lady of Paris"--more favored -in this than Chaucer's good prioress. There was a humorous poem current -among the people, in which _Dom. Barbarisme_ played a ludicrous part, -and which would not have circulated among the laity if they had no notion -of French grammar. - -Domestic troubles and other causes, for whose introduction we have not -space, had effected the destruction of grammatical treatises previous to -1400. About that date the translator of the psalter into the vulgar tongue -thus bewailed the general ignorance: - - "Et pour ceu que, nulz ne tient eu son parlier, ne rigle certenne, - mesure, ne raison. Est langue romance si corrompue qu' à poinne li uns - eutent l'aultres, et à poinne puet on trouveir à jour d'ieu personne qui - saiche escrire, anteir,(_Chanter_,) ne prononcieir en une meisme - semblant menieir, mais eseript, ante, et prononce, li uns en une guise, - et li aultre eu une aultre." [Footnote 129] - - [Footnote 129: And because no one observes in his speech either a - certain rule, measure, or reason, the romance tongue is so corrupted - that scarcely one understands another, and scarcely can a person be - found to-day who knows how to write, sing, and pronounce in the same - manner; but they write, sing, and pronounce--one in one way, another in - a different way.] - -{406} - -The strong predilection of churchmen and princes for the Latin tongue was -one of the chief causes of the tardy amelioration of the French language -and French grammar. In a council held in the palace in 1398, where the -vulgar tongue was spoken, a learned ecclesiastic, by name Pierre Plaoul, -excused his indifferent style of speaking by his want of familiarity with -the tongue. Others spoke as bad or worse, but made no apology. It was as -late as 1345 that the government thought it advisable to put forth in the -language of the people laws respecting the tanners, curriers, and makers of -baldrics and shoes in Paris, as they were ignorant of Latin. - -The early composers of French grammars under the new order, instead of -studying the spirit of the language as it was then spoken by educated -people, subjected it to the rules of the Latin tongue as given by Donatus -and others. Much time was lost and much linguistic error propagated by this -arrangement. As time went on, and that attention which had been entirely -given to a foreign tongue began to be shared with the language of the -country, some philologists took to study its construction, and frame -suitable rules for the government and concord of its chief parts; and by -degrees the orthography and the syntax of the language became subject to -laws which fitted its character. - - - Rhetoric. - -Under the name rhetoric, as already mentioned, were joined to eloquence -historic recitals, letter writing, didactic teaching, translations, and -poetry. Few treatises on the art have survived. The Dominicans were fonder -of practising than teaching it, and some who taught it correctly could not -refrain from allegorizing on it in the style already alluded to. Under -Molenier's management, three kings, Barbarisme, Solecisme [Footnote 130], -and Allebolé, make war on three queens, Diction, Oration, and Sentence. - - [Footnote 130: The Greek inhabitants of _Soli_ in Cillcia suffered - "their parts of speech" to be affected for the worse by intercourse - with the neighboring barbarians. So the fastidious Athenians began to - designate all infractions of grammar as _solecisms_.] - -They possess in common ten arrows--pleonasm, tautology, ellipse, tapinosis, -(obscurity, qu.,) etc. Allebolé has thirteen daughters, Barbarisme -fourteen, and Solecisme twenty-two, and the number of grandchildren is not -small. If any reader desires to see how men of some talent can lose -themselves in matters trifling and intricate at the same time, let him -procure Molenier's treatise, or even that of the chronicler Chastellain, -where he will find Dame Rhetoric accompanied by science, gravity, multiform -riches, flowery memory, noble nature, precious possession, laudable -deduction, old acquisition, etc. - -The professors of rhetoric in the middle ages had sundry classic writers to -fall back on, such as Quintilian, Aristotle, Cicero, etc. They had also the -aid of Priscian, Donatus, and Isadore of Seville. Among the earliest -specimens of eloquence assuming the garb of the vulgar tongue was the -eulogium pronounced on the brave Bertrand du Gueselin by the bishop of -Auxerre, Ferrie Cassinel, at the request of Charles VI. A poet of the -century thus described its effects: - - "Les princes fondolent en larmes, - Des mots que l'evesque monstroit; - Quar il disoit, 'Plorez gens d'armes - Bertrant qui trestant vos amoit. - On doit regreter les fex d'armes - Qu'il fist au temps qu'il vivoit. - Dieux ait pitie sur toutes ames; - De la sienne quar bonne estoit.'" - [Footnote 131] - - [Footnote 131: - "The princes melted in tears - At the words which the bishop spoke; - for he said, 'Weep, ye men of arms, - Bertrand, who so much loved you. - We should regret those feats of arms - Which he performed in the time he lived. - O God! have pity on all souls; - and in _his_, for he was good.'"] - -Four men of that era distinguished themselves by eloquence at the bar, and -in addressing assemblies in the tumultuous days of the poor demented king. -Jean Faure and Guillaume le Breul besides their speeches, left behind them -valuable works on jurisprudence; and their learned contemporary, Yves de -Kaermarten, acquired such a good name that he was promoted to the Calendar -of Saints. -{407} -We are unable to quote any other gentleman of the bar whose sanctity -attained the heroic degree. Renault d'Acie and Jean des Marès ventured -among the political tempests of the day, and perished in their patriotic -efforts. - -Few instances of eloquence, ancient or modern, could surpass that of -Charles the Bad, King of Navarre, if we can trust the chroniclers. Having -been released from prison, and brought to Paris, 29th November, 1357, he -ascended a platform near the Pre aux-cleres (the Clerk's Meadow) in the -morning, and kept a considerable portion of his ten thousand auditors -either crying at, or deeply sympathizing with, his pretended wrongs, till -the dinner hour of the citizens had passed. He afterward scattered his -poison among multitudes at the Greve and the Halles. His oration made to a -deputation at St. Denis bears an annoying resemblance to some delivered not -very long since in various American cities, by patriots of our own time: - - "Gentlemen and friends," said he, "no ill luck can befall you which I - will not freely share. But I strongly counsel you, while you govern - Paris, to provide yourselves well with gold and silver. Confide in me. - Send me here freely all that you can put together. I shall give you a - good account of it, and will have at your service numerous men at arms, - many comrades who shall defend you from your enemies." - -The speeches of the wicked king were mostly prefaced by texts, but it is -not rightly known whether this _argumentum ad crumenam_ was so -garnished. - -While some exhibited their eloquence in defending or accusing prisoners, -and others spoke against king, or chiefs of obnoxious parties, some -minstrels were still to be found chanting the old romances for ready money. -In 1368, the municipal authorities of Valenciennes are found allowing -Colart de Maubeuge, "xii gros, in value vi sols ix deniers, for playing on -his instrument, and singing gests of arms." The ancient romances of -Charlemagne, of King Arthur, and of the wars of Troy, were still in -possession of the popular mind, but such poets as there were did not fail -to seize on recent or passing events, and do their best to immortalize -them, as well as perpetuate their own fame. The raising of the walls of New -Ross, on the Barrow, was celebrated by a poet of the day in two hundred and -nineteen verses, in which the patriotism of the citizens, and the clergy, -and the ladies, was sung, not forgetting the beauty of the women of all -degrees, whose delicate hands did not disdain to bring materials to the -masons. "Yet in no part of the earth, where the minstrel had been, did he -ever see such beauty." - - "Kique la fu pur regarder - Meint bele dame, y put veer - Ke unke en terre ou jal esté, - Tants belies ne vi in fossé." - -The siege of Carlaverock by King Edward I., in 1300, where six hundred men -defended the place against three thousand assailants, was sung by an -eye-witness in octo-syllabic rhyme. - -The Vow of the Heron, commencing the war between Edward III. and Philippe -de Valois, was not neglected by the rhymers. Collins, trouvere of John of -Hainault, Lord of Beaumont, in a poem of five hundred and sixty-six -eight-syllable verses, lamented the fate of the brave old king of Bohemia, -and his ostrich plume and the other victims of the battle of Creci, -signalized by the minstrels of the era as in - - "L'an mil iij.c.xl.vj., - Que nos seigneurs furent occis - En la bataille de Creci; - Jhü Cris leur face mierci!" - [Footnote 132] - - [Footnote 132: - "The year one thousand, three hundred, forty, and six, - When our lords were slain - In the battle of Creci; - Jesus Christ show them mercy!"] - -{408} - -The life and deeds of the Black Prince were commemorated by Chandos, the -herald of Sir John Chandos, Constable of Aquitaine, in five thousand and -forty-six verses, of the same measure as those others recorded. We quote a -few lines of the courteous communications between the captive king and the -chivalric prince. - - "Li rois Johan lui ad dit, - 'Beaux douis cosins pur Dieu mercit. - Laissez; il n'apartient a moi, - Car par la foi que jeo vous doi, - Plus avez ei jour d'hul d'honour - Qu'onques n'éust prince a un jour.' - Dont dist il prince, 'Sire douls, - Dieux l'ad fait et non mie nous. - Si l'en devons remercier, - Et de bon coer vers lui prier, - Qu'll nous ottroier sa gloire, - Et pardonner cesto victoire,'" etc. - [Footnote 133] - - [Footnote 133: - "But King John to him said, - 'Fair, sweet cousin, God-a-mercy, - Let be; it belongs to me not, - For, by the faith which I owe thee, - More honor this day you've won - Than ever did prince in any one day (of fight)' - Then to him said the prince, Sweet sire, - God has achieved it, not we ourselves, - So to him we should give thanks, - And with good heart thus pray to him, - That he would give us his glory, - And pardon this victory.'"] - -The single-minded and patriotic Du Guesclin was not forgotten by the poetic -chroniclers. Jean Cuvelier, in 1384, put his deeds in verse. - -Judicious historians have not disdained to avail themselves of these -productions of the rhymers. They have extracted those passages from them -which were despised by the matter-of-fact chroniclers, but which had an air -of probability, and were calculated to add picturesque and interesting -features to the narrative. - -It is highly probable that every ancient narrative poem which was not -inspired by mere emulation of former poets had some foundation in fact. The -mere invention of subjects, as well as their treatment, is a feature of -comparatively modern times. The personages figured by _Reynard, Bruin, -Isgrim_, and the other animals of the great beast-epic of the middle -ages, once lived and acted some way in the spirit of their four-footed -substitutes. - -Toward the end of the century, the taste for the old rhymes, romances, and -narratives began to veer round to more trivial and simple subjects, and to -take more interest in the distinctions between the different classes of the -shorter pieces of poetry. Prosody had been in process of cultivation for -some time, and now the attention of such dilettanti as filled courts and -the castles of the nobles was more strongly arrested upon feet, accents, -lengths, measures, and number of lines in each piece, than in the deed -recorded or sentiments expressed. - -While Froissart was searching for material for his chronicle, in 1392, -Eustache des Champs was instructing poetic students in the difference -between _chansons, balades, virelais,_ and _rondeaux_. He was -well entitled to do so, having himself composed 80 virelais, 171 rondeaux, -1,175 balades. These ballads he divided into _Leonines, Sonnantes, -equivoques, retrogrades,_ etc., etc.; but in the next century his merits -were forgotten in presence of Henri de Croy, who subdivided his ballads -into _communes, balladantes, fatrisées_, and the rondeaux into simple, -twin, and double. Then care should be taken not to mix the rhymes beaten, -broken, re-linked, doubled tailed, etc., in form of amorous complaint. The -combination denominated _ricquerac_, and that called _baguenaude_ -we would explain but for the misfortune of being ignorant of their -structure. The first, perhaps, was a disjointed affair, like some negro -melody, the other, a perpetual hovering round the predominant idea, -whatever it might be. - -That was the golden age of bouts rimés, logogriphes, enigmas, -chronographes, achrostiches, and fatfasies, (unmeaning combinations of -words.) In Henri de Croy's great work, even the single fatrasies were -distinguished from the double ones. The reign of these egregious morsels -still lingers in some almanacs, people's penny periodicals, and even in the -Paris Illustrated News, where the logogriph, consisting partly of letters -and partly of pictured objects, keeps the subscribers in misery till next -Saturday, when the solution appears. - -{409} - -The taste of the public with regard to spectacles was not superior to that -of the readers of the time for such trifles as have been just mentioned. In -1313, when the young princes, sons of Philip the Fair, received the order -of knighthood, a grand mystery was exhibited to the people of Paris, where -the Infant Saviour was presented smiling on his mother and eating an apple, -surrounded by the three kings of Cologne, (the Magi,) the twelve apostles -saying their paternosters, the souls of the blessed in paradise singing -hymns in unison with ninety angels, and the reprobate in hell howling for -the entertainment of about a hundred demons. - -Of translations, which were also included under the head rhetoric, we have -already spoken. As Latin was almost the only language from which the -versions were made, the spirit of that language must have had considerable -influence on future compositions in the vulgar tongue. - - - Dialectics. - -In teaching and learning the dialectics, which embraced metaphysics, -jurisprudence, political economy, and even claimed physics for its -jurisdiction, the object seemed rather a victory in a war of words and -ideas than discoveries of new truths or the establishment of old ones. -Hair-splitting and sophistry flourished in all the contests. So useless and -even criminal seemed this amazing waste of time to quiet-minded and earnest -people, that a legend was current in the twelfth century of a dead scholar -appearing to a comrade in a robe of hell all covered with sophisms. Another -displayed himself wrapped round and oppressed with a heavy parchment all -covered with closely written exercises in the _dialectique_. Both -attributed their present sufferings to the sort of logic they had acquired -in the Paris schools. - -Irish students were as redoubtable in these witty duels in the Sorbonne and -in Salamanca as Irish colonels and generals of later times in the armies of -France and Spain and Austria. In metaphysics, the realists, with John Duns -Scotus for leader, warred with the nominalists, using such arms as were -supplied by substantial forms, quiddities, heccéites, polycarpéites, and -other such chimeras, the result being nothing but obscurity of the -understanding from these clashings in the dark. Sometimes the sharp-witted -dialecticians intruded rashly on the domains of theology and morality, and -were smartly pulled up, as in the case of the great interpreter of -Aristotle, Nicolas d'Autrecourt, in 1348, for this ingenious proposition: - - "A young man of good birth met with a sage who undertook to communicate - the 'universal science' to him without delay, for a hundred crowns; but - the young man had no other means to procure the money than by stealing - it. Was he justified in this theft? Certainly; for we must do what is - agreeable to God; but it was agreeable to God that this young man should - get instruction, and he had no other means to get it than theft; ergo," - etc. - -A sharp condemnation by the Theological Faculty of Paris was all the honor -awarded to Mr. Nicolas's plausible conclusion. - -In physics and natural history, our philosophers of the middle ages were -more prone to depend on Aristotle and Pliny, and later dreamy sages, than -to resort to careful observation. Theory, not induction, was their darling -mode of enlarging the domain of human knowledge, and no fact fitted -comfortably in its place without being moralized. Far away in the realms of -Prester John were to be found giants, pigmies, men with one eye in front -and three behind, female warriors, griffins, licorns, and alerions, animals -well adapted to point a moral. - -The learned Pierre Bercheure, who translated Livy, informed his readers -that the toad was mute in every country but France. _Moral_: The -Frenchman, a babbler at home, is perforce mute when he goes abroad. The -learned Bercheure either intended to hint that the Gaul too much neglected -the study of foreign languages, or that, while vainglorious at home, he -became meek and humble when he crossed the frontier. - -{410} - -Still proceeding in this moral strain, Dr. Bercheure asked, "Why, in the -territory of Orange, was utterance by sound denied to all toads, one only -excepted?" No answer being received, he gave this explanation: The holy -bishop, Florent, being much disturbed in his meditations by the -disagreeable songs of the toads, ordered them to be silent. They obeyed on -the moment, and the good bishop was so touched by their prompt attention to -his command that he revoked his order. However, the stupid messenger who -brought the news, instead of using the plural form of the -verb--_cantate_--merely said _canta_, and thus only one of the -community ever after could avail itself of the privilege: nasty Mercury! -say we. These additions to Pliny could scarcely be called improvements in -the science of natural history. - -For a long time the healing art was nearly monopolized by the religious -houses, but it was not so without an occasional scruple of conscience on -the part of the chiefs in the various orders. They feared that their art -might too much engross the attention of the practitioners. To moderate -their mere scientific ardor, the following legend was sent abroad among -them: There was a skilful medical man among the monks of Citeaux, whose -time was so much taken up in provincial excursions that he was not found in -the convent unless at the great festivals. As he was employed on one of the -feasts of the Blessed Virgin, singing in choir with the rest, he was -favored with a vision of his heavenly patroness distributing a spoonful of -elixir to every one of the singers, himself alone excepted. He made a -gesture of supplication not to be treated to such an unenviable -distinction, but this reply reached the recesses of his understanding -without any action of the senses: "Physician, thou hast no need for my -elixir, for you do not deny to yourself any consolation." A radical change -was wrought in the man, and on the next solemnity he was favored as the -rest. Such was the rapture into which he was thrown, that for the future -his healing excursions were as short and as few as possible. - -There was no college of physicians at Paris nor Montpellier in the -beginning of the twelfth century, but considerable progress was made in -founding medical establishments during the next two hundred years. Some -enthusiastic pill-taker thus expanded in commendation of the faculty of -Paris in 1323: - - "In this city, where there is no want or consolation or succor, the - physicians appointed to look after our health and the cure of our - maladies, and whom the sage orders us to honor as being created by the - Most High for our needs, are so numerous that, when they pass through the - streets to discharge their duty in their rich dresses and in their - doctoral caps, those who have need of them have little trouble to get an - interview. Oh! how we should love these good physicians, who, in the - practice of their profession, philosophically conform themselves to the - rules of science and long experience!" - -We have seen a copy of the Medical Review, a brochure, in rhyme, issued in -Dublin circa 1775, eulogizing by name the several physicians and surgeons -who practised in our city at that period. It was written throughout in the -spirit of the above extract, and, but for the evident good faith of the -writer, would be supremely ludicrous. - -All the old writers on the subject were not so complimentary to the -faculty. Some of the members deserved what they got if they were of the -sect of the impudent Arnaud de Villeneuve, some of whose counsels to his -students took this shape: "You examine perhaps the ... of a patient without -being anything the wiser for it, but say, 'There is an obstruction in the -liver.' The patient may perhaps answer, 'But, master, it is in my head I -feel the illness.' You answer without hesitation, 'It is from the liver it -comes.' Always make use of the word obstruction. They don't know the -meaning of it, and it's all for the best that they should not." - -{411} - -But skilful or the reverse, the doctors of the fourteenth century found all -their resources powerless to arrest the epidemic which about the middle of -it swept across Europe. Its visitations were more appalling than those of -cholera in our times. The physicians behaved as feeling and heroic men, and -were swept off in thousands, while doing their duty by their patients. -There was no writer found to introduce a series of licentious stories as -sequel to a harrowing account of the scourge. - -Among those who essayed to cure Charles VI. of his mental malady was Arnaud -Guillem, who came in 1393 from Languedoc to Paris, bringing with him the -volume Smagorad, which "Adam had received by way of consolation a century -after the death of Abel." There is some doubt about his being put to death -for failure; but two Augustine monks suffered in 1398, and four sorcerers -in 1403, for the same liberty taken with sick majesty. It is probable that -the heads stuck on spikes over palace gates for similar failures in our -Household Stories had some foundation in pre-historic times. In one of his -lucid intervals the poor king directed that once in the year the dead body -of a criminal should be delivered to the Faculty of Medicine at -Montpellier, a proof that he set more value on the study of the human -subject than the virtue of charms or other superstitious processes. Among -medical treatises of the fourteenth century, some disfigured by the dreams -of the astrologer, the alchymist, and the sorcerer, that of Gui de Chauliai -stands pre-eminent for scientific attainment. - - - Arithmetic Geometry, Music, and Astronomy. - -At first scholars were careful to avoid the title of mathematicians. -Something magical and occult was attached to it, as in the old Roman times. -Mathematician and felon were synonymous terms. Mere arithmetic was in -better odor; it was useful in concocting the ordinary tables set in the -beginning of prayer-books, and including the golden number, the epact, the -dominical letter, etc.[Footnote 134] Calendars were carefully compiled all -through the era in question. It has often puzzled us to know how -calculations to any extent could be effected by the Xs and Vs and Is which -denoted numbers previous to the eleventh century. Wretched was the pupil's -lot (if such an incident ever took place) required to perform an operation -in long division, in multiplication by tens of thousands, or to extract the -cube root of a large number. Great are our obligations to the Arabians for -the use of their system of notation. - - [Footnote 134: These names mysterious to scholars of city and - university, were household words with the masters of Hedge schools and - their advanced pupils half a century ago.] - -A household joke of the day throws light on the incapacity of the wives of -small citizens to manage deep calculations. A few of the husbands drinking -agree that he whose wife could not count up to four accurately should pay -the reckoning. The calculation of Robin's wife was "One, two, three, seven, -twelve, and fourteen." John's wife began at two. Tassin's wife tossed her -head, and said she was not a baby, and would not count at all. We cannot -find out which of the husbands paid the scot. - -The geometry of the day chiefly confined itself to the measurement of land, -but there were treatises on perspective, and portions of the Latin Euclid -extant. - -Charles the Wise was not without charts and maps of the world. Many such -existed, but, as may be supposed, tolerably incorrect. The earth was -supposed to consist of two hemispheres, glued, as it were, to each other, -and the globe somehow maintained its place in the void like a suspended -lamp. - -In 1366, King Charles V., in order to prevail on Pope Urban V. not to -remove to Rome, urged that Marseilles was in the centre of the civilized -world. This would be rendered still more sensible by cutting off Greece -from the general map. -{412} -"The schismatic Greeks cut themselves off from the spiritual world by their -separation from the church: let their land be removed from the material -world." It does not appear that this ingenious proposition was put in -practice. - -Of accounts of foreign parts there was no lack, and it must be said that -the early books of travels and accounts of countries, if less strictly -confined to facts than ours, were much more entertaining. A copy of Marco -Polo's travels was presented in 1307 to Charles Count of Valois by John de -Cepoy, son of the Venetian ambassador. John de Meun translated into French -the Wonders of Ireland. They had also the Wonders of England, India, the -World, etc. - -Several works were composed in the fourteenth century on the subject of -music, but chiefly in Latin and with reference to the established canons of -sacred melody. - -Astronomy had a hard strife with the impostor astrology, which had been so -long in possession of the general intellect. However, some glimmerings of -the true state of heavenly things had been gradually entering the minds of -the astrologers themselves. The total eclipse of the moon on the night of -the 15th of January, 1305, terrified the Parisians. It was mentioned as an -_Eclipsis Lunae horribilis_. But an eclipse of the sun, 31st January, -1310, was predicted by the Faculty of Astronomy. Another in 1337 was -treated of by John of Genoa, who, in 1332, had composed his canon of -eclipses. Comets gave considerable disturbance to the public mind during -this century. They predicted the death of Louis X., and the destruction of -France, the plague, and all varieties of deceit, lies, hatred, and -insubordination, etc. However, science was making a sure though slow -progress, and toward the close of the century the learned were in -possession of many astronomical facts unknown at the beginning. The comets -made their fearful visits at these dates--March, 1315, July, 1337. April, -1338, 1340, 1346, 1360, 1368, 1378. - -Several voyages and land journeys were performed during this century, and -among the rest that by our own Sir John Mandeyille, some of whose -discoveries were inferior to those of the truth-loving Lemuel Gulliver -alone. The Holy Land possessed strong attractions for devout and cultivated -souls. Of all these the most enthusiastic was the Tuscan Dominican, -Riccoldo di Monte da Croce. Having gained the valley of Josaphat, he -believed himself at the end of the world, and thus gave vent to his burning -thoughts: - - "We saw about the middle or the valley the tomb of the Blessed Virgin - Mary, and, considering it to be the place of the final Judgment, we - passed between the Mount of Olives and Mount Cavalry, weeping, and - trembling with fear, as if the Supreme Judge was already above our heads. - In this sentiment of awe we thought within ourselves, and we said to each - other--'It is from above this hill that the most Just of Judges will - pronounce his decision. Here is the right hand, there is the left. We - then selected, to the best of our judgment, our places on the right, and - each sunk in the ground a stone to denote his own. I sunk mine, and I - retain that spot for myself, and for all those who, after receiving from - me the word of God, shall persevere in faith, in charity, and in the - truth of the holy gospel, and we marked the stone in the presence of many - of the faithful, who wept with us, and whom I call on as witnesses this - day." - -We have come to the end of our sketch of the progress of intelligence -during a brief portion of its course, namely, that portion immediately -preceding the epoch of the invention of the printing-press. The impediments -in the way of scientific progress were great and humorous. Many weak -spirits were discouraged, and did nothing; others, some few of whom we have -particularized, wrought like giants, and thus benefited themselves and -their kind. Among these benefits we do not reckon in chief the conveniences -and luxuries which distinguish our existence from that of the Samoyeds or -dog-ribbed Indians. The Mussulman, well to do, and spending the eleven -twelfths of his time in mere indolence and indulgence of the senses, would -be better off discharging the duties of porter or ferryman. -{413} -No, the chief advantages we derive from the advance of human knowledge is -the easier and swifter communication between the scattered members of the -great human family, the advance of education among the working classes, and -the healthy occupation of so many active and energetic minds, which, -without suitable work to do, would prey on themselves, and become a curse -to their possessors. - ------- - - Original. - - Laudate Pueri Dominum. [Footnote 135] - - [Footnote 135: Died at the Convent of the Visitation, Georgetown, - D.C. on the 18th of April, .... a young girl thirteen years of age, - who was received into the bosom of the Holy Church October 2d, 1866.] - - - "I will wash my hands among the Innocent, - and so will I compass thy altar, O Lord!" - - -Oct. 2d. Feast Of The Holy Guardian Angels. Baptism - - In snowy robe and spotless veil - Stands the fair child at the altar rail. - "Of Holy Church what askest thou?" - "The FAITH," she murmured. Upon her brow - The bright drops fell. An angel smiled - In the face of God, all he said: "Thy Child!" - -Dec. 8th. Feast Of The Immaculate Conception. First Communion. - - In snowy robe and spotless veil - Kneels the fair child at the altar rail. - "Of Holy Chinch what cravest thou, - On suppliant knee and with rev'rent brow?" - "My Lord, my Hope, in whom I live." - "'Tis thy Child!" said the angel. "Master, give!" - -April 14th. Palm Sunday. Burial. - - In snowy robe and spotless veil - Lies the fair child at the altar rail. - "Of Holy Church what askest thou, - Palm-branch in hand, and with flower-crowned brow?" - "In robe baptismal yet undefiled, - MY LOVE!" Said the angel: "He waits thee, Child!" - ------- - -{414} - - Translated from Paris l'Union. - - Christianity And Social Happiness. - -It is the fate of illustrious men to reproduce the tendencies of the age in -which they live--whether for good or evil. Thus, the study of characters, -that the engraver of fame has impressed on the memory of humanity, leads -frequently to a knowledge of the age to which they belonged, and from this -knowledge much that is useful can be elicited. - -A man has lived among us, whose noble character, generous aspirations, -illusions even, or exaggerations, are reflected in his contemporaries. -Lacordaire is France of the nineteenth century, and the thought that -germinated in the soul of the celebrated Dominican, and until his time -awaited its development, borne down by the weight of intellectual ruin -which the school of Voltaire had amassed, this thought harmonizes so well -with the genius of the day, and with its research, that it seems impossible -not to recognize the ray of light destined to dissipate for ever the -shadows of doubt and unbelief, which lead astray and weaken the life of our -generation. - -"I have attained to my catholic belief," writes Lacordaire, "through my -social beliefs, and today nothing appears plainer to me than such a -consequence. Society is necessary, therefore the Christian religion is -divine; for it is the means of leading society to perfection by accepting -man with all his weaknesses, and social order with its every condition." - -Such words cannot be too deeply considered; and the truths that they -express are in such close affinity with the tendencies of our time that it -is easy and profitable to meditate upon them. We wish for the happiness of -the masses, social prosperity, and the advancement of civilization; -therefore, we wish for Christianity. Humanity is called upon to peaceably -develop its strength, while releasing itself from the bonds of the monster -called pauperism, with whom physical misery is only the clothing of moral. -Therefore humanity is called upon to germinate in a reviving sun all -Christian teachings. - -Do you wish for facts? You are children of an age that acts only by -experience. Well, then, light the torch of history, and, throwing its rays -over the annals of the world, read the observations spread before your -eyes, and compare the actual state of an ancient and modern people. In -instructing and bringing man to a sense of his greatness and duty, who has -raised and elevated social relations? Who has broken the chains of pagan -slavery? Who has sown the seed of all intellectual and moral virtue in -those vast regions that barbarian night had enveloped? Who, then, has given -servants to weakness, to suffering, to the disinherited by fortune, to all -those that grief had touched with an unpitying hand? Who has founded large -schools, asylums of science and art; great centres from which have parted -in radiating those who, by gigantic works, accomplished under the -observation of astonished generations, have merited the appellation of the -Cultivators of Europe? Who has done all these things, if not the church, -that is to say, Christianity teaching, directing, and moralizing humanity? - -Christianity, then, not only elevates man to a moral grandeur unknown to -pagan nations, but through its influence society exists in a material -prosperity to which Greece and Rome never attained. Profane history shows -us a few privileged ones, satiated, we may say, with riches, but beneath -and around them, we see only a servile mass vegetating in degrading misery. -{415} -What a difference, say we, with a modern wise economist, M. Perin, -professor in the university or Louvain--what a difference in the riches of -the sun between the Roman empire in its happiest time and contemporary -Europe! What difference in products, in the multiplicity and rapidity of -communication, in the cheapness of transportation, and in the extent of -relations which to-day embrace the entire world! - -What a difference, again, in the financial resources of states, in their -armies, in their material. What a difference and what superiority on the -side of modern nations, not only in that which constitutes their individual -happiness, but in that which makes the material power of nations and their -true force. What superiority especially in the mass of wealth destined for -the consumption of a people. Time, since the thirteenth century, has rolled -on in the full power of Christian civilization, and has evidenced a period -of prosperity which has had no equal in history. These are the facts. But -science does not stop at facts. Its mission is to investigate by labor of -which it only has the secret and the glorious trouble, the why as well as -the end of things. - -Science is the knowledge of objects of observation studied by their causes: -cognitio rerum per causas. We ask of it, therefore, the reason of the -marvellous power we have just proved in Christianity; and in order not to -extend our investigations, we will content ourselves by seeking with it how -material prosperity and the wealth of nations come from a religion which -preaches the doctrine of renunciation. - -The reason of the prosperity of nations truly Christian is, it seems to us, -evident. We find them practising generally the virtues of which -Christianity is the apostle and propagator. Economists will tell, you -without capital, that is to say, without expenditure with the view of -reproduction, there can be no social riches. But is this expenditure -compatible with vice, that never has enough to satisfy its brutal -appetites? - -Virtue, then, is the source of social ease, and in it only the remedy for -pauperism. "If you do not give a people virtue, the only serious guarantee -of present expenditure and future capital, you can never entirely defend it -against an invasion of misery. In vain you may accumulate well-being and -ease around the domestic hearth; in vain make and increase capital from -growing wealth, if you do not accumulate a capital conservative of all -other, that of virtue." We are happy to quote these beautiful words, only a -few days since fallen from the pulpit of Notre Dame. - -Just now we pronounced the word renunciation. Well, it is necessary that -all understand that Christian self-denial is a dispensing force, the -results of which are incalculable. It elevates the poor man beyond -discouragement, and preserves for him the energy with which he diminishes -the privations of his family. To him it comes to destroy the individuality -which absorbs the opulence of the rich. To him it leads the beneficent -current of fortune, which flows from those who have toward those who have -not. To him, at last, it brings riches in every way, since under its mild -influence each one profits by its thousand sacrifices, although he -individually may make none. Let us be permitted to borrow some lines from -the beautiful book of M. Périn, De la Richesse dans les Sociétés -Chrétiennes: - -"Follow the course of ages," said this wise economist, "and you will ever -find Christianity accomplish through the virtue of self-denial the work of -each epoch, forcing humanity toward progress, and even saving it from the -perils of success. Run through the society of to-day, and in every degree -of civilization that a contemporary world presents us, in the same picture -and at a single glance, and in the varied phases that pervade our different -societies, you will find Christianity proportion its action to -circumstances; you will find it endeavoring to impress all countries and -races with the salutary impulse for progress by the power of self-denial, -while it is ever the same in principle, and ever infinitely varied in its -applications and fertile in its effects." - -{416} - -Self-denial! Yes, it is this which gives Christian souls that holy love of -work which is the productive element of social riches. To make a sacrifice -of one's repose to God, while bending under the yoke of painful labor, is -the joy of the Scripture disciple. He wishes for such joy, he loves it, and -it was to obtain it that the children of Saint Benedict have sown its seed -in the uncultivated deserts of the old Europe or under the murderous sun of -Africa. - -At the time of its decay and corruption Rome, it is said, was at the same -time lazy and servile. But, even in the days of its grandeur, can we -believe that labor showed itself to the eyes of the Roman people -transfigured by that aureole which gives it incomparable beauty, so grand -that one loves it with a love which might seem folly if it were not supreme -wisdom? Such a sentiment can only be born with the doctrine of renunciation -and the thought of the Saviour. "To re-establish labor and the condition of -the workman, it was necessary that Christ, making himself a laborer, should -wield with his own royal and divine hands, in the workshop of Nazareth, the -axe and the tools of the carpenter." - -These words, which we borrow from a course of political economy, delivered -with so much eloquence to the Faculté de Droit de Caen, by M. Alexandre -Carel, finish by exemplifying how labor, and, by consequence, the wealth of -society, owes so much to Christianity. - -The limits of an article do not permit us to develop further the ideas -necessary to understand all its power and truth. We can only resume them in -saying: - -To occupy one's self with social and political studies is to follow the -impulse that our age impresses on intelligence. To find the condition -necessary for the well-being of society, of which we form a part, would be -from the point of view of contemporary aspirations one of the finest -victories that the public mind could carry with it, one of the greatest -satisfactions that the heart can obtain. Well! may our eyes open at last. -Let us learn to see that, without neglecting secondary means, it is -necessary, to attain the end desired, to christianize the people. - -Christianity with its virtues, its doctrine of self-renunciation, its labor -transfigured by freedom and love, behold the agent, and the only one -capable of producing the prosperity with which we would wish to endow -nations. Let us understand these things, and we shall march with success to -the conquest of social happiness. But we shall do better still. Penetrating -the harmonious connection that unites effects to causes, we shall ask of it -the secret of the superhuman power that escapes from it by submission to -the Scripture; and soon we can repeat again the conviction of Lacordaire: -"Christianity is the means of leading society to its perfection, by -accepting man with all his weaknesses, and social order with its even -condition. Society is necessary; therefore the Christian religion is -divine." - ------- - -{417} - - From The Lamp. - - Visible Speech. - - -Mr. Alexander Melville Bell has recently brought under the notice of the -Society of Arts his very remarkable system of Visible Speech or Universal -Language, which is (says Chamber's Journal) intended to remove an absurdity -which vitiates all ordinary alphabets and languages. This absurdity is the -utter want of agreement between the appearance of a letter or word and the -sound which it is intended to convey; between the visible form of the -symbol and the sound and meaning of the thing symbolized; between (for -instance) the shape of the letter C and the value of that letter in the -alphabets which contain it. This is an old difficulty--how old, we do not -know; but to understand the proposed remedy, it will be necessary to have a -clear idea of the defect to which the remedy is to be applied. - -Spoken language may, for aught we know, have had its origin in an attempt -to imitate, by the organs of the voice, the different sounds which animate -and inanimate nature presents. Man could thus recall to the minds of those -around him those notions of absent objects and past actions with which the -sounds are connected. The expression of abstract qualities by the same -means would be a later object, and one more difficult of attainment. When -the eye instead of the ear had to be appealed to, or the signs rendered -visible instead of audible, the system of hieroglyphics would at once -suggest itself, by marking on a tablet or paper, a piece of ground or a -smooth surface of sand, a rude picture of the object intended. When we get -beyond these preliminary stages, however, the difficulty rapidly increases. -There is no visible picture by which we could convey the meaning of such -sentiments as are called in English virtue, justice, fear, and the like, -except by so elaborate a composition as it would require an artist to -produce; nor could an audible symbol for each of these sentiments be -framed. It would take a Max Müller to trace how the present complication -gradually arose. That there _is_ a complication, anyone may see in a -moment. What is there in the shape of the five letters forming the word -table, in these particular combinations of curved and straight lines, to -denote either the sound of the word or the movements of the mouth and other -vocal organs which produce its utterance? Nothing whatever. Any other -combination of straight and curved lines might be made familiar by common -use, and substituted for our plain English word, with as little attention -to any analogy between the visible symbol and the sound of the thing -symbolized. - -Numerous attempts have been made to devise some sort of alphabet in which -the shapes of the letters should in some way be dependent on the movements -of the vocal organs--not actual pictures of them, but analogies, more or -less complete. Without going to earlier labors, we may adduce those of -Professor Willis. Nearly forty years ago, he showed that the ordinary vowel -sounds--_a, e, i, o, u_--are produced on regular acoustic principles; -that "the different vowel sounds may be produced artificially, by throwing -a current of air upon a reed in a pipe; and that, as the pipe is lengthened -or shortened, the vowels are successively produced"--not in the order -familiar to us, but in the order _i, e, a, o, u_, (and with the -continental sounds, -_i_ like _ee_, -_e_ like _ay_, -_a_ like _ah_, -_u_ like _oo_.) -{418} -Eighty or ninety years ago, Mr. Kratzenstein contrived an apparatus for -imitating the various vowel sounds. He adapted a vibrating reed to a set of -pipes of peculiar forms. Soon afterward, Mr. Kempelen succeeded in -producing the vowel sounds by adapting a reed to the bottom of a -funnel-shaped cavity, and placing his hand in various positions within the -funnel. He also contrived a hollow oval box, divided into two portions, so -attached by a hinge as to resemble jaws; by opening and closing the jaws, -he produced various vowel sounds; and by using jaws of different shapes, be -produced imperfect imitations of the consonant sounds _l, m_, and -_p_. By constructing an imitative mouth of a bell-shaped piece of -caoutchouc, imitative nostrils of two tin tubes, and imitative lungs in the -form of a rectangular wind-chest, he produced with more or less -completeness the familiar sounds of _n, d, g, k, s, j, v, t_, and -_r_. By combining these he produced the words _opera, astronomy,_ -etc., and the sentences _Vous etes mon ami--Je vous aime de tout mon -coeur_. By introducing various changes in some such apparatus as this, -Professor Willis has developed many remarkable facts concerning the mode in -which wind passes through the vocal organs during oral speech. - -The useful work would be, however, not to imitate vocal sounds by means of -mechanism, but to write them so that they should give more information as -to their mode of production than our present alphabet affords. Such was the -purport of the _Phonetic_ system, which had a life of great activity -from ten to twenty years ago, but which has since fallen into comparative -obscurity. Mr. Ellis and the Messrs. Pitman published very numerous works, -either printed in the phonetic language itself, or intended to develop its -principles. Bible Histories, the New Testament, the Sermon on the Mount, -Pilgrim's Progress, Paradise Lost, Macbeth, The Tempest--all were printed -in the new form; and there were numerous works under such titles as -Phonetic or Phonographic Alphabets. Almanacs, Journals, Miscellanies, -Hymn-books, Note-books, Primers, Lesson-books, and the like. The intention -was not so much to introduce new forms of letters, as new selections of -existing letters to convey the proper sounds of words. There was an -unfortunate publication, the Fonetik Nuz, which worked more harm than good -to the system, seeing that it was made a butt for laughter and -ridicule--more formidable to contend against than logical argument. - -Mr. Bell contemplates something more than this. He has been known in -Edinburgh for twenty years in connection with numerous works relating to -reading, spelling, articulation, orthoëpy, elocution, the language of the -passions, the relations between letters and sounds, logograms for -shorthand, and the like. As a writer and teacher on these subjects, he had -felt, with many other persons, how useful it would be if we could have a -system of letters of universal application; letters which, when learned in -connection with any one language, could be vocalized with uniformity in -every other. There are two obstacles to the attainment of this end: first, -that the association between the existing letters and sounds is merely -arbitrary; and second, that international uniformity of association is -impracticable, because the sounds of different languages, and their mutual -relations, have not hitherto been ascertained with exactitude or -completeness. - -Mr. Bell, as he tells us, feeling that all attempted collations of existing -alphabets have failed to yield the elements of a complete alphabet, tried -in a new direction. Instead of going to languages to discover the elements -of utterance, he went to the apparatus of speech itself, endeavoring to -classify all the movements of tongue, teeth, lips, palate, etc., concerned -in the pronunciation of vocal sounds. By this means, he hoped to obtain, -from the physiological basis of speech, an organic scale of sounds which -should include all varieties, known and unknown. -{419} -To transfer these sounds to paper, in the form of visible characters, a new -alphabet was necessary. To have adopted letters from the Roman, Greek, or -other alphabets, constructed on no common principle of symbolization, would -have been to introduce complexity and confusion, and to create a conflict -between old and new associations. He therefore discarded old letters and -alphabets of every kind. He set himself the task of inventing a new scheme -of symbols, each of which should form a definite part of a complete design; -insomuch that, if the plan of the alphabet were communicated by diagrams, -each letter would teach its own sound, by expressing to the reader's eye -the exact position of the sound in the physiological circuit. Could this -object be attained, not only would there be a universal alphabet; there -would be a scheme of letters representative of sounds, and not, like -ordinary alphabets, associated with sounds only by arbitrary conventions. - -Mr. Bell believes that he has achieved this result, and his expositions -before the Ethnological Society, the College of Preceptors, and the Society -of Arts, have had for their object the presentation of various phases of -the system. The fitness of the term _visible_ speech may, be urges, be -shown by the analogy of an artist, who, wishing to depict a laughing face, -draws the lines of the face as seen under the influence of mirth; be -depicts, in fact, _visible_ laughter. Every passion and sentiment, -emotion and feeling, has this kind of facial writing; and an idea of it -might be expressed on paper by a picture of the muscular arrangements of -the face, so that all persons seeing the symbols would have a common -knowledge of their meaning. In forming any sound, we adjust the parts of -the mouth to certain definite attitudes; and the sound is the necessary -result of our putting the mouth in such a shape. If, then, we could -represent the various positions of the mouth, we should have in those -symbols a representation of the sounds which cannot but result from putting -the mouth in the positions symbolized. Now, Mr. Bell claims to have applied -this system of symbolization to every possible arrangement of the mouth: he -claims that, whatever your language, and whether you speak a refined or a -rustic dialect, he can show, in the forms of his new letters, the exact -sounds you make use of. If this be so, a Chinaman may read English, or an -Englishman Chinese, without any difficulty or uncertainty, after he has -learned to form his mouth in accordance with the directions given him by -the letters. Nearly all the existing alphabets contain vestiges of a -similar relation between letters and sounds--a relation which has nearly -disappeared during the changes which alphabetic characters have gradually -undergone. Mr. Bell gave the following anecdote illustrating this relation: -"Shortly before I left Edinburgh, in the early part of last year, an -elderly lady called on me, accompanied by two young ladies, who were going -out to India as missionaries. The elderly lady had been for upward of -twenty years engaged in mission work, and she spoke the language of the -district like a native. Nevertheless, she could not teach the English girls -to pronounce some of the peculiar sounds which she had acquired by habit. -They had been for some time under her instruction, but they could not catch -the knack of certain characteristic elements. Having heard of 'Visible -Speech,' the lady called to solicit my assistance. I know nothing of the -language she pronounced before me. Some of the sounds I had never heard in -linguistic combinations, though, of course, I am acquainted with them -theoretically. I saw the young ladies for half an hour, but this proved -long enough to give them the power of pronouncing the difficult sounds -which, while they did not know precisely what to do, they could not -articulate. Strangely enough, since I came to reside in London, I heard a -clergyman and former missionary, speaking of these very girls, remark on -the great success with which they pronounced the Canarese language before -they left this country; and the speaker knew nothing of their previous -difficulty, or how it had been overcome." - -{420} - -The system analyzes all sounds according to the mode in which they are -produced. The number of sounds discriminated in various languages amounts -to several times the number of letters in the English alphabet; and even in -English, although there are only twenty-six letters, there are at least -forty different sounds. The Church Missionary Society employ nearly two -hundred different letters or symbols in their several printed books; and -the list is even then imperfect as regards many of the languages. - -Mr. Bell finds thirty symbols sufficient to denote all the two hundred -varieties of vowel and consonant sounds. What kind of symbols they are, we -do not know, (for a reason presently to be explained;) but he states that, -while each elementary sound has its own single type to express it in -printing, he requires only thirty actual types to express them as used in -language. Each symbol has a name, which does not include the sound of the -letter, but merely describes its form. The learner has thus at first only -to recognize pictures. But the name of the symbol also expresses the -arrangement of the mouth which produces the sound; so that, when the symbol -is named, the organic formation of its sound is named at the same time. In -order that thirty symbols may denote two hundred sounds, Mr. Bell has -adopted certain modes of classification. All vowels receive a common -generic symbol, all consonants another; vocality and whisper have their -respective symbols; so have inspiration, retention, and expulsion of -breath; so have the touching and the vibration of the several vocal organs; -so have the lips, the palate, the pharynx, the glottis, and the different -parts of the tongue; so has the breathing of sounds through the nostrils, -or through nearly closed teeth. There are thirty of these generic meanings -altogether, and they are combined to make up letters, every part of every -letter having a meaning. The thirty symbols need not be represented -mechanically by exactly thirty types; they may be embodied in a larger or -smaller number, according to taste or convenience; such of the symbols as -together represent simple elements of speech being properly combined in -single types. "The highest possible advantages of the system," we are told, -"would be secured by extending the number of types to about sixty. At -present, I and my sons--as yet the only experts in the use of visible -speech--write the alphabet in a form that would be cast on between forty -and fifty types, which is but little more than the number in an ordinary -English fount, including diphthongs and accented letters. This number does -not require to be exceeded in order to print, with typographic simplicity, -the myriad dialects of all nations." - -Mr. Bell pointed out the prospective usefulness of his system in -telegraphic communication. The symbols of speech may, in all their -varieties, be transmitted by telegraph, through any country, without the -necessity for a knowledge of the language adopted on the part of the -signaller. He would only have to discriminate forms of letters; he may be -totally ignorant of the value of a single letter, and yet may convey the -telegram so as to be intelligible to the person to whom it is virtually -addressed. It is known that the telegrams from India now reach London in a -sadly mutilated and unintelligible state, owing to their passing through -the hands of Turkish and Persian agents who do not know the English -alphabet; an evil which, it is contended, would be removed by the adoption -of the new system. - -{421} - -The mode in which Mr. Bell illustrated his method was curious and -interesting. His son uttered a great variety of sounds--whispered -consonants, vocal consonants, vowels, diphthongs, nasal vowels, -interjections, inarticulate sounds, animal sounds, mechanical sounds--all -of which are susceptible of being represented in printed or written -symbols. Then, the son being out of the room, several gentlemen came -forward and repeated short sentences to Mr. Bell, some in Arabic, some in -Persian, some in Bengali, some in Negro patois, some in Gaelic, some in -Lowland Scotch, some in Norfolk dialect; Mr. Bell wrote down the sounds as -he heard them, without, except in one or two cases, knowing the purport of -the words. The son was called in, and, looking attentively at the writing, -repeated the sentences with an accuracy of sound and intonation which -seemed to strike those who were best able to judge as being very -remarkable. - -There is something a little tantalizing in the present state of the -subject. We know that there is _a_ system of symbols, but we do not -know the symbols themselves. Mr. Bell states that, besides the members of -his own family, only three persons have been made acquainted with the -symbols, and the details of their formation--namely, Sir David Brewster, -Professor de Morgan, and Mr. Ellis. He has not intended, and does not -intend, to secure his system to himself by any kind of patent or copyright; -and yet, if he made it fully public at once, he would lose any legitimate -hold over it to which he is rightly entitled. He has submitted his plan to -certain government departments, but has found that it is "nobody's -business" to take up a subject which is not included in any definite sphere -of duty. He has next endeavored to interest scientific societies in the -matter, so far as to induce them to urge the trial of his plan by the -government. He says: "I am willing to surrender my private rights in the -invention _pro bono publico_, on the simple condition that the costs -of so introducing the system may be undertaken at the public charge." -Teachers there must be, because "the publication of the theory of the -system and the scheme of symbols must necessarily be supplemented by oral -teaching of the scales of sound, in order that the invention may be applied -with uniformity." The reading of the paper gave rise to some discussion at -the Society of Arts, not as to the value and merit of the system itself, -but as to anything which the society can do in the matter. It is one rule -of the society that no new invention shall be brought forward without a -full explanation of the _modus operandi_ as well as of the leading -principles; and in this case, the objection lay that the inventor declined -to make public, unless under some government agreement, the actual secret -of his method. Mr. Bell replied that, if even he were to write a sentence -in view of the audience, it would add very little to their real knowledge -of the subject; but he furthermore said he was ready to explain the details -of the system to any committee whom the council of the society, or any -other scientific body, may appoint. To us it appears that neither Mr. Bell -nor the society is open to blame in the matter. He has the right to name -the conditions under which he will make his system public; while they have -the right to lay down rules for the governance of their own proceedings. -The results actually produced struck the auditors generally with surprise; -and there can be little doubt that the system will in some way or other, at -all events, work itself into public notice. - ------- - -{422} - - - Comparative Mortality of Great Capitals. - -Our recent alarm at the appearance and progress of the cholera in London -may have drawn the attention of many who had before been accustomed to pass -them by with indifference, to those columns in the papers in which the -reports of the Registrar-General on the state of the public health are from -time to time recorded. But we are perhaps hardly yet sufficiently awake to -the importance and interest of the statistics there contained, any more -than to the value of the short and, at first sight, rather unintelligible -tables which embody, day after day, the meteorological phenomenon collected -in London from so many different points on our own coast and those of -adjacent countries. These last statistics have an interest which does not -yet belong to those which relate to the public health, in that they embrace -reports from so many distinct places which can be compared together. We, of -course, only publish our own statistics of health, disease, births, and -deaths; and we have not yet seen our way to the information that might be -gathered by a comparison of our own condition in these respects with that -of others under similar circumstances. The interest and value of such a -comparison is obvious enough; and some of the results which might be hoped -from it, if it were systematically and scientifically made, may be guessed -at by the perusal of a thin volume of less than two hundred pages, lately -published in Paris by M. Vacher, [Footnote 136] which at first sight may -seem not to promise very much except to professional readers, but from -which we shall take the liberty of drawing a few facts which certainly seem -worthy of the attention of the more general public. - - [Footnote 136: Etude Médicale et Statistique sur la Mortalité à Paris, - à Londres, à Vienne et à New-York en 1865. D'aprés les Documens - officiels, avec une Carte Météorologique et Mortuaire. Par le docteur - L. Vacher. Paris: F. Savy, 1866.] - -Canning once said, in answer to some one who alleged "a well-known fact" -against him, that there was but one thing more fallacious than a fact, and -that was a figure. We must all be ready to allow that the results which we -see embodied so neatly in a set of figures in statistical tables are, after -all, but approaches to the truth; and they are not put forward as anything -more. Still, there is often a wonderful accuracy about the average results -given by statistical inquiries; and it is obvious that when the result of -one calculation is confirmed by that of another independent of the former, -or when one uniform result is given by a continued series of inquiries, or -when there is a very decided preponderance on one side of a comparison, -such as cannot be accounted for by chance, it would be absurd to refuse to -assent to conclusions thus obtained. With this single preliminary remark, -let us proceed to some of the facts collected for us by M. Vacher. - -He begins by giving due credit to this country for having taken the lead in -the publication of the kind of statistics with which he has to deal. The -reports of the Registrar-General are all that he can desire. New York and -Vienna have followed, more or less fully, the example set in London. It has -also been copied in St. Petersburg, as far as the registration of deaths is -concerned; and it is hoped that a weekly publication of the results will -soon be made in that city. Paris joined the movement at the end of 1864 or -the beginning of 1865. -{423} -There is, however, some difference of system. The chief point is, that in -England the medical man who attends a sick person reports the cause of -death; in Paris there are certain official physicians, _vérificateurs des -décès_, and these, instead of the attending physician, assign the cause. -The superiority of the English system seems to be acknowledged. M. Vacher's -book is founded on the reports thus produced. - -His first business is, of course, to settle approximately the population of -the four capitals with whose statistics he deals--a matter of considerable -difficulty, even with all the results of the census before him. He -calculates the number of the inhabitants of Paris in 1865 at 1,863,000; -those of London were 3,028,600; those of Vienna, 560,000; and those of New -York, 1,025,000, (in 1864.) At the present rate of increase, Paris will -double its population in 32 years, London in 40, Vienna in 44, and New York -in 13½. On the other hand, this increase is not to be set down to the -excess of births over deaths, which in London, in 20 years before 1861, was -only 328,189--about a third of the actual increase, (35 per cent.) In a -similar period, the births exceed the deaths in Paris by only 13 (and a -fraction) per cent of the whole increase. Immigration has therefore the -largest share in the increase of the population. A flow is continually -setting in from the country to the town in the age in which we live, and it -enriches the largest towns, and the capitals especially. New York, -receiving annually so many immigrants from Europe, is, of course, beyond -the others in its gains from this source. Paris has undergone great -vicissitudes as to the number of its inhabitants. In 1762, the population -seems to have been about 600,000. It fell off immensely during the -Revolution; even in 1800 it was only 547,756. From 1790 to 1810 the number -of deaths exceeded the number of births. Since that time the proportion has -been reversed, except in years of great epidemics. - -Of the four capitals with which M. Vacher deals, Vienna, the smallest, had -the largest proportion of deaths in 1865. In Vienna the proportion was 1 to -31 of the inhabitants; in Paris, notwithstanding the ravages of the cholera -in October--causing 6591 deaths (nearly an eighth of the whole)--it was 1 -to 36; in New York, 1 to 40; in London, 1 to 41. In Paris, London, and New -York, the death rate has diminished in its proportion to the population for -some time past. In Paris, in the three decades of years from 1830 to 1860, -it fell successively from 1 to 31, to 1 to 34, and then to 1 to 38. There -has been the same improvement in the other two cities. In New York, fifteen -years ago, the rate of deaths was 1 to 22--nearly twice as high as at -present. We do not see any statement in M. Vacher's pages as to the case of -Vienna. He attributes the improvement in Paris to some extent to the great -public works and measures for securing the health of the population which -have marked the second empire; but much more, it would seem, to the better -management of the hospitals. In Paris and Vienna a much larger proportion -of the inhabitants die in hospitals than in New York and London; and, as -far as we are concerned, M. Vacher includes workhouses and asylums of all -kinds under the general name of hospitals. He finds, on comparing some -scanty statistics of the last century with the facts of the present, that -in old times the number of deaths in hospitals was far greater in -proportion to the cases admitted than now; and he thinks that, in Paris at -least, this almost explains the improvement in the death-rate. In New York -the same improvement may have had many causes, but it is remarkably -coincident as to time with the magnificent changes made, at an immense -cost, in the water supply of that city. From some meteorological tables -compiled with great care by M. Vacher, we gather the rather surprising -result that the variations of temperature during the year, which have -considerable influence on the death-rate, are greatest at Vienna, (nearly -27°,) next at New York, (25°,) much lower in Paris (17°,) and lowest of all -in London, (15°.) - -{424} - -One of the most interesting questions at the present time on this subject -is that of the water supply. M. Vacher begins with a cordial tribute to the -Romans on this head. The magnificent aqueducts by which the city of Rome -was supplied date from the time of the early republic, though the emperors -increased their number. At an early point of their history, therefore, the -Romans were wise and liberal enough to dispense with the waters of the -Tiber for drinking. They carried their system everywhere when they became -the masters of the world; in France, in Spain, and in Italy many aqueducts -can still be traced which were their work. We may be quite certain that if -Britain were now a Roman province, the Thames water companies would never -be allowed to supply water except for the streets, and great aqueducts -would long since have brought us the pure water of Bala Lake or Windermere. -Thanks to the popes, modern Rome though not so profusely supplied as in -imperial times, is still very far in advance of all other cities in the -world in this respect. [Footnote 137] M. Vacher reckons the water supply in -ancient Rome as 1492 _litres_ a day for each inhabitant; in modern -Rome it is 1040; in New York, 159; in Vienna. 134; [Footnote 138] in Paris, -according to the new system, 109; in London, 132. But no city seems to have -its _houses_ so well supplied as London; in Rome a great quantity of -water is wasted, being left to run away from the fountains, while the -houses are not conveniently provided with water. We suppose that our old -friend the house-cistern, against which we have heard so many complaints -lately, is not an essential feature in our system of house supply. - - [Footnote 137: M. Vacher attributes the salubrity of Rome--for, - considering its position, it enjoys remarkable salubrity--to the - abundance and good quality of its water. Lancisi, who practiced there - as a physician in the last century, accounts for the longevity of its - inhabitants in the same way. At all events, remarks M. Vacher, "il est - impossible de n'étre pas frappé de ce fait, que les historiens ne - mentionnent pas un seul example de peste à Rome, et qu'au moyen age et - dans les temps modernes elle a constainment échappé aux atteintes de la - pests et du choléra, qui ont sévi à plusteurs reprises en Italie." But - Rome has certainly been visited by the cholera more than once, and the - rest of the statement is surely contrary to history.] - - [Footnote 138: This statement is, however, an anticipation. The - municipality of the Vienna has undertaken some immense works in order - to improve the water supply, at a cost of 16,000,000 florins. The works - are not yet completed: but M. Vacher gives the quantity of water for - each inhabitant which they are expected to furnish. Hitherto the city - has been supplied, it would seem, partly from the Danube, partly by - wells. The new supply will be drawn from three different sources among - the neighboring mountains.] - -M. Vacher gives the following conclusions as to the sanitary effect of good -and abundant water. He tells us that inorganic substances contained in -water are comparatively innocuous to the health of those who drink it; on -the other hand, great injury is caused by the presence of organic matter. -The best water in Paris--that of the springs on the north--contains nine -times as much of calcareous salts as the water of the Seine; but it is -justly preferred for drinking purposes. On the other hand, M. Vacher quotes -the testimony of M. Bouchut, a professor at the Ecole de Médecine, for the -fact that he noticed the frequency of epidemic diarrhoea during the summer -months in the Quartier de Sèvres and that it had been almost stopped in -cases where the doctors had ordered the water of the Seine to be no longer -used, and had substituted for it water from the artesian well of Grenelle. -He adds his own experience at the Lycée Napoleon, which is supplied from -the reservoir of the Pantheon, which receives its water from the Seine and -the aqueduct d' Arcueil. He had known as many as fifteen students at once -ill of diarrhoea, and the disease was stopped by the "alcoholization of all -the water." [Footnote 139] - - [Footnote 139: P, 106. M. Vacher here cites the Indian case quoted by - Mr. Farre in is cholera report. The natives in India drink boiled water - as a preventative against cholera; and it has been found that out of a - great number in the family of a single proprietor in Calcutta, all of - whom took this precaution, not a single person had been attacked even - in the worst times of the prevalence of cholera. But Dr. Frank has - disapproved at least the universality of this fact.] - -As regards cholera, the proof is even more striking than that lately -furnished in the case of London by the great and almost exclusive ravages -of that disease in the eastern districts. -{425} -Mortality by cholera seems ordinarily, as M. Vacher tells us, to follow the -laws of general mortality, that is, it prevails most in those districts -which are ordinarily the most unhealthy. But the one element of good or bad -water supply seems to be enough to counterbalance the influence of the -other causes which affect the comparative mortality of districts. For -instance, difference of elevation is supposed to be one of these causes. -Mr. Farre tells us that the mortality of a district is in inverse -proportion to the elevation: that in nineteen high districts the proportion -of deaths by cholera was as 33 to 10,000; in the same number of low -districts, as 100 to 10,000. This law, however, is not enough, nor is it -free from exception. Sometimes places loftily situated are attacked and -lower places are spared. The elevation of Montmartre is almost equal to -that of Belleville; but Montmartre had last year 3.6 cholera cases to 1000, -Belleville only 1.1. Again, a rich quarter has ordinarily immense -advantages over a poor quarter. The mean mortality by cholera in the poorer -_arrondissements_ of Paris was almost three times as great as that in -the rich _arrondissements_. The reason is obvious: the poor work hard, -have insufficient food, and are crowded together in discomfort and want; -the rich are well fed, not overworked, well and healthily housed. Yet there -was one _arrondissement_ of Paris, and that one of the very poorest, -which in the three first visitations of cholera (1832, 1849, 1854) had -actually the lowest proportion of deaths by cholera of all these districts. -In 1865, it had barely more deaths than the very richest of all, that of -the Opéra, which headed the list on that occasion as the most lightly -visited. This _arrondissement_ was Belleville. Another cause of -comparatively greater mortality is density of population; but here again we -are met by the fact that this fortunate Belleville is very densely -populated. The nature of the soil is another. M. Vacher mentions a number -of departments in the centre of France which have never yet been attacked -by cholera. They are those which consist of a huge granitic mass, like an -island in the midst of the more recent formations around them. -Nevertheless, though this will explain much, and though Belleville has an -advantage in this respect over many of the _arrondissements_ of Paris, -still it has the same geological formation as Montmartre, which had three -times as many deaths (in proportion) from cholera. In short, there is no -way left of accounting for its comparative exemption, except that which we -have already mentioned, the superior character of the water consumed by its -inhabitants. The argument certainly seems as complete as it can possibly -be, and we know that it has been strongly confirmed by our own late -experience. Let us hope that no time may be lost in acting on the lesson -which we have received. - -We pass over some interesting statements on the meteorological phenomena -which were observed during the prevalence of the cholera last year in -Paris. [Footnote 140] - - - [Footnote 140: M. Vacher here tells a story of his endeavor to make - some ozonometrical observations in the Paris hospitals, which were - prohibited by the Directeur de l'Assistance publique--an officer of - whom M. Vacher is continually complaining on the ground that they would - frighten the patients. He remarks that on one occasion when travelling - in the pontifical states, some gendarmes found in his possession a - psychrometer and an aneroid barometer, and thought they were weapons of - destruction. He would have been arrested but for M. Matteucci, then - Director of Police. He complains bitterly of the comparative want of - enlightenment in the "administration" of his own country. But no - hospital would have allowed his experiments.] - -M. Vacher rather contradicts current opinion by some remarks he has made as -to the relation of cholera to other diseases. Sydenham has remarked that -when several epidemic diseases are rife during the same season, one of them -usually absorbs to itself, as it were, the bulk of the mortality, -diminishing the influence of the rest even below the ordinary level. Thus -in the year of the great plague in London, just two centuries ago, the -smallpox was fatal to only thirty-eight persons, its average being about -eleven hundred. -{426} -However, the general fact is now questioned. In October last, though -4653 persons were carried off by cholera, the mortality by other diseases -in Paris was greater than in any other month of the year. Yet October is -usually one of the most healthy of all the months; and the epidemic -maladies which ordinarily rage during the autumn--typhoid fever, small-pox, -diphtheria, croup, whooping-cough, erysipelas, and puerperal fever--were -prevalent to an extraordinary degree. It is curious also that there was an -unusual number of children born dead. - -The most destructive of all ordinary complaints is undoubtedly consumption. -At Vienna it actually causes 25 per cent of the deaths, at Paris 16 per -cent, at London nearly 12 per cent, at New York 14 per cent. It is more -frequent in women than men; it is twice as destructive in poor quarters as -in rich quarters; the age which suffers most from it is between 25 and 40. -The difference between the sexes M. Vacher attributes to the more confined -and retired life led by women. If observations in Paris are to be taken as -enough to furnish a general conclusion, it would appear that more -consumptive patients die in the spring than in the autumn. Here again a -common opinion is overthrown. The most destructive months are March, April, -and May: the least destructive are September, October, and November. We -believe that in this country the fewest consumptive patients die in winter, -and the most in summer. M. Vacher also attacks the notion that maritime -climates are the best for consumptive cases. New York is situated on the -sea, but it loses as many by consumption as London; and in the maritime -counties of Kent, Sussex, Hampshire, Dorset, and Devonshire, the deaths by -consumption are as 1 in 7 of the whole; while in the Midland counties of -Warwickshire, Buckinghamshire, Worcestershire, and Oxfordshire, they are as -1 in 9. "Les phthisiques qu'on envoie à Nice et à Cannes, ou même sur les -bords du Nil, sur la foi d'un passage de Celse, y meurent comme ceux qui -restent sous le ciel natal. Ceux-la, seuls en reviennent guéris, chez qui -le mal n'était pas sans ressources et qui auraient guéri partout ailleurs," -(p. 129.) We must remember, however, that if such patients are sent to the -seaside, and die there, they raise the death-rate there unfairly. M. Vacher -insists that the guiding principle in selecting a place for the residence -of a consumptive patient should be the absence of great variations in the -temperature rather than the actual number of deaths by the disease. -Consumption, he says, is unknown in Iceland; but that is not a reason for -sending a consumptive patient to that island. As to New York, we have -already quoted his observation as to the variableness of the temperature -there, notwithstanding its maritime position. - -Although we have already stated the results of a general comparison of the -mortality in the four capitals--results very favorable to the salubrity of -London--it may be interesting to our readers to learn the state of the case -with regard to particular classes of disease. In most cases, of course, we -have the list in actual numbers: our comparative immunity is only evident -when the great excess of our population is considered. In zymotic diseases -we have little more than a majority of a thousand over Paris; but then we -must remember that in the year of which M. Vacher speaks between 5000 and -6000 persons in Paris died of cholera. This, therefore, would seem to be -one of the classes of disease as to which we are really worst off. As to -constitutional diseases, consumption, cancer, scrofula, gout, rheumatism, -and others, Paris exceeds us in proportion; and it is the same with -diseases of the nervous system. From diseases of the heart we lose between -two and three times as many as the Parisians; this proportion, therefore, -is greatly against us. On the other hand, in diseases of the digestive -organs, Paris, notwithstanding its inferior population, exceeded London by -a hundred deaths in the last year. -{427} -London, however, regains a sad preeminence when we come to diseases of the -respiratory organs, asthma, bronchitis, influenza, and the like: Paris -losing between 7000 and 8000 a year against our 12,500. It is in the -commoner diseases that the worst features of London mortality in 1865 were -found. Typhoid was nearly three times as fatal last year in London as in -Paris; measles four times as fatal; scarlatina not far short of twenty -times; whooping-cough more than thirteen times. As the population of London -is to that of Paris as five to three, it is clear to how great an extent -the balance was against us. It was probably an accident. These diseases -prevail very generally for a time, and then retire: and we have lately been -visited by a period of their prevalence. - -We have hitherto spoken only of diseases; but M. Vacher's researches extend -to the comparative frequency of deaths of other kinds. In suicides, New -York has the best account to give, Paris the worst. To speak roughly, -London has twice as many suicides as New York, Vienna twice as many as -London, Paris more than twice as many as Vienna--in comparison, that is, -with the total number of deaths of all kinds. The _actual_ numbers -stand thus: Paris 716, London 267, Vienna 813, New York 36. For the last -nine years there has been little change in the number in London; in New -York it has diminished, in Paris it has increased, having more than doubled -itself since 1839. The two years, 1848 and 1830, which were marked by -revolutionary movements, were also marked by a diminution in the number of -suicides. The relative proportion of suicides increases with age; that is, -it is four times as frequent with people above 70 as with people between 20 -and 30. Paris has for a long time been noted as a city in which there were -more suicides than any other. More than eighty years ago, Mercier noted -this, and attributed it to the rage for speculation. Other writers have -since attempted to find a reason for it in the prevalence of democratic -ideas. We suppose that both democratic ideas and speculation are not -unknown in New York, yet that city (and indeed the State itself) is -remarkably free from suicides, and a great number of those that occur are -said to be of Europeans. - -But if Paris bears the palm in self-slaughter, no city can vie with London -in slaughter of another kind. Violent deaths are nearly three times as -frequent in London as in Paris. As many as 2241 persons were slain in -London last year; as many, that is, as would be enough for the number of -the killed in a sanguinary battle: 328 were burnt, 405 were suffocated, -(this probably includes children overlaid by their mothers,) 40 were -poisoned, 767 disposed of by "fractures and contusions," 232 were killed by -carriage accidents; leaving 469 to be laid to the account of other -accidents. In the other three capitals the proportion of deaths by -accidents to the whole number of deaths ranges from under one per cent to -under two per cent; in London it is just three per cent. Finally, London -had 132 murders to give an account of in 1865, Paris had 10, and New York -only 5. - -We are sorry that the last fact which we glean from M. Vacher's interesting -tables must be one rather disparaging to the great Transatlantic city which -we have last named. Disparaging, that is, positively rather than -comparatively; and we fear that, if the statistics which we are now to -quote do not reveal a terrible state of things in London also, it is -because on this head our admirable system of registration has given M. -Vacher no assistance at all. "Quant à la ville de Londres," he says, "il -m'a été impossible d'arriver à connaitre le chiffre de ses _mort-nés_. -Le Bulletin des Naissances et des Morts ne donne d'ailleurs aucun -renseignement à ce sujet." He expresses his opinion that, if the numbers -were given, London would have quite as bad a tale to tell as Paris or New -York. But the figures in these cities are sufficiently startling. -{428} -In Paris the children "born dead" are to the whole number of deaths as one -to ten; in New York as one to fifteen; in Vienna they are as one to -twenty-three. Twenty years ago, the Préfet of the Seine addressed a -circular to the _maires_ of Paris, in which he drew their attention to -the great number of these children, and pointed out that it was natural to -conclude that their deaths were too often the result of crime. In New York -similar complaints have been made, and we are significantly told that full -reports cannot be obtained on the subject. As to London, we find a large -number of deaths, 1400 or 1500 a year, set down to "premature birth and -debility." We fear it would be quite impossible to give an account of the -number of births which are _prevented_--contrary to the laws of God -and man alike. We need hardly do more than allude to the frightful increase -of infanticide, on which Dr. Lankester has lately spoken so strongly. Mr. -Humble's Essay on the subject in Mr. Orby Shipley's volume contains some -very startling statistics. There are as many as 12,000 women in London to -whom this crime may be imputed. "In other words," says Mr. Humble, "one in -every thirty women (I presume, between fifteen and forty-five) is a -murderess." We must hope that there is exaggeration about this; but if it -were one in every thirty thousand, it would be bad enough--a state of -things calling down the judgments of heaven on the land. - -The Anglican writer to whom we have just alluded speaks with some apparent -prejudice against the most obvious remedy for infanticide--the -establishment of foundling hospitals, perfectly free. There may be some -objections to these institutions, but we must confess that, in the face of -the facts on which we are commenting, they seem to us rather like arguments -against life-boats because they may encourage oversecurity in exposure to -the dangers of the sea. If Mr. Humble will read, or read again, Dr. Burke -Ryan's Essay on Infanticide, which gained the Fothergillian prize medal -some time ago, and in which the fact seems to be proved that the crime is -more common in England than anywhere else, he will perhaps see reason to -conclude, from the French statistics there adduced, that foundling -hospitals are more effectual in preventing this abominable evil than -anything else that has ever been devised. - ------- - - Miscellany. - - -_New Electric Machines_.--At the conversazione given by the president -of the Royal Society at Burlington House, London, the display of newly -constructed astronomical, optical, and other philosophical instruments -afforded a gratifying proof of improvements in the mode of construction, -and of increased skill on the part of the constructors. The large -spectroscope, which is to be used in combination with Lord Rosse's monster -telescope, was a triumph of workmanship and of philosophical adaptation of -means to ends; and we may expect ere long to hear of important discoveries -in spectroscopic phenomena. Mr. C. W. Siemens and Professor Wheatstone -exhibited each one a remarkable electric machine of his own invention, -which demonstrated in a surprising way the convertibility of mechanical -force into electricity. In these machines, a bar of soft iron, wrapped -lengthwise in copper wire, is made to rotate between two other bars of soft -iron, which are fixed. The rotating bar is inoculated, so to speak, with a -small touch of magnetism, and then being set spinning very rapidly, the -small touch is generated into a stream of electricity, which passes off -with a crackling noise, increasing or diminishing in proportion to the -rotation. -{429} -In a laboratory, such a machine would be highly serviceable, as it could be -used to generate large quantities of electricity very cheaply, and there is -no doubt but that many other ways of turning it to account will be -discovered. Mr. Siemens has already discovered one most important way, -namely, the lighting-up of buoys and beacons at a distance from the shore, -by sending a current of electricity to them through a submarine cable. That -is the way in which he purposes to employ the electricity generated by his -machine: his method has been approved by the Commissioners of Northern -Light-houses, who intend to apply it to light the buoys and beacons that -mark the most dangerous spots round the coast of Scotland. But of all -wonderful electric machines, the one invented by Mr. H. Wilde of Manchester -is the most wonderful. A machine which weighs about four and a half tons, -including one ton of copper wire, and which requires an eight-horse -steam-engine to keep its armature in rotation, must necessarily produce -tremendous effects. It gives off electric fire in torrents: the light -produced is intense, and is quite as useful to photographers as sunlight, -with the advantage over the sun, that it can be used on dark days and at -night. This light, as we hear, is already employed in manufacturing -establishments, and is to be introduced into light-houses. A French -company, who have purchased the right to use it in France, will try it -first in the light-house on Cape Grisnez, whence, as is said, the light -will radiate not only all across the Channel, but some distance into the -southern counties of England. Besides the production of light, the new -machine is applicable to important manufacturing purposes; the size of the -machine being altered to suit special circumstances. A well-known firm at -Birmingham are about to use it, instead of a galvanic battery, for the -deposition of copper on articles required to be coated with that metal. In -this case, the electricity of the machine is substituted for the acid and -zinc of the battery, and will cost less. In another instance, the machine -is to be used for the production of ozone in large quantities for -employment in bleaching operations. Professor Tyndall exhibited the -sensitive flame, on which he had given a lecture at the Royal Institution: -or, to be more explicit, he made experiments to show the action of sound on -flame. The results are remarkable. A tall flame, looking like an ordinary -gas-flame, issuing from a circular orifice in an iron nipple, behaves in an -extraordinary way when, by increased pressure, it is raised to fourteen or -sixteen inches in length. If a shrill whistle be blown in any part of the -room, it suddenly drops down to about half the length, and rises again -immediately on cessation of the sound. A blow of a hammer on a board -produces a similar effect; and still more so when the blow is on an anvil: -the flame then jumps with surprising briskness, the reason being that the -ring of the anvil combines those higher tones to which the flame is most -sensitive. So tuning-forks, at the ordinary pitch, produce no effect; but -if made to vibrate one thousand six hundred, or two thousand, or more times -in a second, the flame responds energetically. In another experiment, a -fiddle is played in presence of a flame twenty inches in length--the low -notes produce no effect; but when the highest string is sounded, "the jet," -to quote Professor Tyndall's own words, "instantly squats down to a -tumultuous bushy flame, eight inches long." And the same effect is produced -by strokes on a bell at twenty yards' distance: at every stroke the flame -drops instantaneously. This last experiment is a good illustration of the -rapidity with which sound is propagated through air, for there is no -sensible interval between the bell-stroke and the shortening of the flame. -Another flame, nearly twenty inches long, is yet more sensitive, for the -rustle of a silk dress, a step on the floor, creaking of boots, dropping of -a small coin, all make it drop down suddenly to eight inches, or become -violently agitated. At twenty yards' distance, the rattle of a bunch of -keys in the hand shortens the flame, and it is affected even by the fall of -a piece of paper, or the plashing of a raindrop. To the vowel U, it makes -no response; to O, it shakes; E makes it flutter strongly; and S breaks it -up into a tumultuous mass. Many more instances might be given, but these -will suffice to show that surprising effects are produced by sound. To the -scientific inquirer they will be serviceable as fresh illustrations in the -science of acoustics. _Chambers's Journal_. - ------- - -{430} - - Original. - - New Publications. - - - American Boys And Girls. - Two Essays from the recently published volume, - "American Leaves." By Samuel Osgood, - Minister of the Church of the - Messiah, New-York. Harpers. 1867. - -These essays were reprinted, the author tells us, at the request of a lady, -for general circulation, with the hope of doing some good to the rising -generation, and those who have the charge of bringing them up. We hope they -may do good, and they certainly will if they exercise any practical -influence at all upon either parents or young people. Their literary merit -is undeniable. The topics they touch upon are, however, so painfully -momentous that it is impossible to dwell with mere critical enjoyment upon -their readable qualities as essays to be amused with during a leisure hour. -Their charm of style is only to be appreciated as a means of alluring -attention to the very grave and alarming truths which they contain. The -author touches with a light and delicate hand upon a very sore and diseased -spot in our social system, and hints, in a manner which is intelligible to -the instructed without being dangerous to the innocent, at evils which may -well awaken the alarm of every one who is solicitous for the well-being of -the family, the community, and the race. We are especially pleased with his -very sound remarks upon the luxury, extravagance, and effeminacy which are -exercising such a corrupting influence upon American society. We think, -however, the doctor is more successful in pointing out the evils which -exist than in proposing a remedy for them. The sacramental doctrine of -matrimony, the Catholic law maintaining its absolute indissolubility, the -sacrament of penance, and the authority of a church which is a supreme -judge and lawgiver, executed by a priesthood who are independent of the -opinions, caprices, and trammels of worldly society, are alone sufficient -to reform the vitiated, or preserve the integrity of youth. It were as easy -to catch the devil in a mouse-trap as to renovate society by any means -which Unitarian Christianity has at its disposal. - -The author's very irrelevant digression upon the Catholic doctrine of -celibacy adds one more to the numberless instances in which respectable -writers criticise rashly without understanding their subject. He says, (p. -109,) "We know very well that theorists of extreme classes, who have noted -the decrease in the number of marriages in high life, are inclined to -rejoice at it, and for opposite reasons: the one class because they think -celibacy to be the higher condition." After several more passages, in which -the language is very ambiguous, and may easily be understood as veiling a -covert insinuation against the Catholic clergy and religious communities, -the author concludes his remarks thus: "We believe that a true Christian -wife has a purity that angels may not scorn and many a nun might covet, and -that the man who keeps his marriage vows need not ask of any ghostly monk -for lessons in manly virtue. The longer we live the more we reverence God's -obvious law, and the less we admire the devices of men who forbid marriage, -and so undertake to be wiser than God." - -It is quite the reverse of truth that a Catholic moralist, whether -"ghostly" or otherwise, approves of or recommends or rejoices in a general -practice of celibacy among either the wealthy or the poorer classes. The -Catholic clergy recommend and favor marriage for the generality of persons -as by far the best and happiest state for them. The Catholic doctrine does -not disparage the purity of Christian wives, or the virtue of married men -who are faithful to their matrimonial obligations. The spectral gentleman, -whose lessons the doctor politely declines in advance, would probably, if -he had the chance to give one, pass over the evangelical counsels, and -enlarge on the moral duty of representing things as they are. The Catholic -Church does not "forbid marriage." She teaches that it is a sacrament. The -Greek Church has corrupted it by permitting divorce; every Protestant -Church has done the same; the civil law has laid its barbarous hand upon it -to drag it from the protecting power of the church. The Roman Church alone -has first raised it to its proper elevation and indissolubility, and -afterward defended it by her uncompromising law from desecration. -{431} -We advise the doctor to turn his attention more undividedly to the work of -rehabilitating marriage in the rights of which corrupt morals and -legislation have deprived it, and not to distress himself with the fear -lest the sacrament should be despised or neglected by Catholics. - - - Sermon On The Dignity And Value Of Labor. - By the Rev. Joseph Fransioli, - Pastor of St. Peter's Church, Brooklyn, L.I. - -This is a first-class popular sermon; plain, practical, and encouraging. -That Christianity has redeemed the masses in elevating and dignifying -manual labor is plain enough to the student of history. That which was a -curse in Adam is turned into a blessing in Christ. It is equally true that -when men forget the Christian aim of life and suffer themselves to be -guided, as too large a class of our modern society does, by heathen -principles, labor becomes contemptible, poverty becomes a misfortune, and -the wearing of patches and rags a crime. The preacher thus fitly -characterizes labor: "Work is of divine origin. It is not a human -invention, or a system adopted by civil society for its wants in the -different classes; it is a divine institution, an obligation imposed by -God's eternal wisdom upon all men without distinction whatsoever. It is a -divine institution distributing labor in its various branches among all -men, not creating, properly speaking, different classes. Work is leading -men towards God, the centre of perfection. Work, then, ennobles man, and -the true dignity and worthiness of a man is to be measured by the -proportion of his work." - -Again, he is justly severe upon the modern distinction of "low" and -"respectable" classes in this false sense. "The father who carries the -shovel on his shoulders to dig the foundation of your buildings; the son -who, early in the morning, is seen walking, tools in hand; the washerwoman -and the servant girl who clean your clothes and honestly and faithfully do -the work of your houses, are not low. They discharge a noble task which -their families appreciate and which God will reward. Do you know who belong -to the very lowest classes of men and Christians? Those that speculate on -the lives of the poor laborers by building monstrous tenement houses, where -bad ventilation, poor light, scarcity of water, and dilapidated rooms lead -the over-crowded and over-taxed inmates to misery and a premature death. -Those that sue for divorces in the courts, ride in carriages, and display -themselves in public with more than one wife, more than one family, more -than one God; trampling on human and divine law. Those that spend their -nights in gambling, their days in hypocritical schemes, who never balance -their expenses with their revenues, and consume double the amount of their -salaries, and leave their bills unpaid or shamefully defraud their -employers. These and many others of the same stamp, whose number is -countless; these swell the figures of the low classes." This is preaching -which reasons "of judgment and justice," and tells the truth without fear -or favor. It is a refreshing sermon, and lacks in nothing but in having -been too hastily printed, being full of typographical errors. - - - Frithiof's Saga. - From the Swedish of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö. By the Rev. William - Lewery Blackley, M.A. First American edition, edited by Bayard Taylor: - pp. 201, 12mo. New-York, Leypoldt & Holt. 1867. - -Several translations of this beautiful poem have been made in English, each -of which had its own peculiar merit. An accurately literal translation of a -foreign book possesses the value of presenting to us just what the author -says; but the manner of his speech, the true spirit which gives life and -character to his work, must necessarily be wanting. Such was the -translation of Tegnér's poem, by Prof. George Stephens, published at London -in 1839. Prof. Longfellow was more successful in the poetic versions he -gave in an article on the poet contributed by him to the North American -Review of July, 1837. That of Mr. Blackley before us is not only a faithful -translation, but is also English poetry, preserving in its style enough of -the wild Scandinavian spirit to mark its origin. As a specimen we subjoin -the following extract from "Frithiof at Sea." The hero is compelled to make -a dangerous voyage by two kings, Helge and Halfdan, whose sister Ingeborg -he is wooing contrary to their consent: - -{432} - - "Now, King Helge stood - In fury on the strand, - And in embittered mood - Adjured the storm-fiend's hand. - - "Gloomy is the heaven growing, - Through desert skies the thunders roar, - In the deep the billows brewing - Cream with foam the surface o'er. - Lightnings cleave the storm-cloud, seeming - Blood-red gashes in its side; - And all the sea-birds, wildly screaming, - Fly the terrors of the tide. - - "Storm is coming, comrades; - Its angry wings I hear - Flapping in the distance, - But fearless we may be. - Sit tranquil in the grove, - And fondly think on me, - Lovely in thy sorrow, - Beauteous Ingeborg. - - "Now two storm-fiends came - Against Ellida's side; - One was wind-cold Ham, - One was snowy Heyd. - - "Loose set they the tempest's pinions, - Down diving in ocean deep; - Billows, from unseen dominions, - To the god's abode they sweep. - All the powers of frightful death, - Astride upon the rapid wave, - Rise from the foaming depths beneath, - The bottomless, unfathomed grave. - - "Fairer was our journey - Beneath the shining moon, - Over the mirrory ocean, - To Balder's sacred grove. - Warmer far than here - Was Ingeborg's loving heart; - Whiter than the sea-foam - Heaved her gentle breast. - - ...... - - "Now ocean fierce battles: - The wave-troughs deeper grow, - The whistling cordage rattles, - The planks creak loud below. - - "But though higher waves appearing - Seem like mountains to engage, - Brave Ellida, never fearing, - Mocks the angry ocean's rage. - Like a meteor, flashing brightness, - Darts she forth with dauntless breast, - Bounding with a roebuck's lightness - Over trough and over crest. - - "Sweeter were the kisses - Of Ingeborg in the grove, - Than here to taste in tempest - High-sprinkled, briny foam. - Better the royal daughter - Of Bele to embrace, - Than here in anxious labor - The tiller fast to hold. - - "Whirling cold and fast, - Snow-wreaths fill the sail; - Over deck and mast - Patters heavy hail. - - "The very stern they see no more, - So thick is darkness spread, - As gloom and horror hovers o'er - The chamber of the dead. - Still, to sink the sailor, dashes - Implacable each angry wave; - Gray, as if bestrewn with ashes, - Yawns the endless, awful grave." - -The Swedish language is full of melody and of imitative harmony; as the -author himself calls it: - - "Language of honor and conquest, - how manly thy accents, and noble! - Ring'st like the smitten steel, - and mov'st like the march of the planets." - -It is, therefore, difficult of translation, and one who would attempt it -must not only be well versed in that language, but must also possess a more -than ordinary knowledge of English. Mr. Blackley has, we think, -accomplished his task with no small degree of success. - - - - Moore's Irish Melodies. - With a Memoir of the poet. - Illustrated by D. Maclise, R.A., and William Riches. Columbus, Ohio: - Riches & Moore, Engravers, Printers, and Publishers. - -The enterprising publishers of this work have certainly spared no pains in -its profuse illustration, the engravings being of such a character as to -occupy at least two thirds of the space in each page. The many admirers of -the melodious verses of the great Irish poet will welcome this new and -elegant edition of them. - -A copy of the designs, if furnished by the pencil of Maclise, should alone -be worth the price of the book. It is sold only by subscription. - - - - Eug. Cummiskey, Philadelphia, announces - for immediate publication the first - series of his Juvenile Library, in twelve - vols. The following are the titles of - the volumes of the first series: - The Great Tenabraka; - Miss Touch-All; - The Young Raiders; - The Old Beggar; - George, the Little Chimney-Sweep; - The Lost Child; - The Desert Island; - Bethlehem; - Pat, the Little Emigrant; - Idleness; - Negligence; - The Little Gardeners. - These tales will - form a collection of stories for children. - The price of the set is to be $5.40. He - has also in press Barbarossa; an Historical - Tale of the Twelfth Century, and The - Vengeance of a Jew. - - --------- - -{433} - - The Catholic World - - Vol. V., No. 28 July, 1867. - ------- - - Original. - - Catholic Congresses. - - -We do not hesitate to say that but few Catholics in this country are aware -of one of the most important events in the modern history of the church in -Europe, the meeting of the Catholic congresses. - -Inaugurated by a council of twenty-six bishops at Würzburg, and a general -convention of the clergy and laity at Mayence in 1848, the Catholic -congresses became an accomplished fact, and since that time each succeeding -year has recorded the meeting of one or more of these assemblies held in -different cities of Belgium and Germany. - -The renewal of Catholic life, the strengthening of Catholic principles, and -the steady and sure return of the people of those countries to the faith, -is, in a great measure, due to the influence which these reunions have -exerted on the public mind. In the beginning they appear to have received -their impetus chiefly from a desire to place the church, so long enslaved -in Germany beneath the tyranny of Protestantism, trammelled by state -interference, and so desperately attacked by the wide-spread infidelity of -the day, upon a free and independent footing. - -Feeling themselves strong enough to speak, they spoke and demanded the -freedom of the church. An universal response was thus elicited, not only -from the clergy, who are the ordinary mouth-pieces in matters of the -welfare of the church, but there started up at once zealous and devoted -laymen, who were competent to take part in the discussion of questions of -interest to Catholic society. Expression stimulated thought, and the -influence of these conventions soon permeated every class of society, -awakening in all minds a desire to contribute something to the general -stock of information and experience which these assemblies began to gather -in, like so much latent force, wherewith to repel the attack of -adversaries, and to advance the cause of truth and pure morality. - -It was truly a Catholic project, and which none but Catholics could attempt -without weakening the cause they would undertake by a certain manifestation -of discordant and irreconcilable principles and the consequent loss of -power. But Catholics may unite for mutual edification and enlightenment, -joined as they are as brethren in a common faith, whose principles and aims -are alike in every country and with all people, and be sure of reaping -thereby solid fruits, and of adding new triumphs for religion. - -{434} - -These general conventions in Germany culminated finally in the great -Catholic congresses of Malines and Würzburg, the first of which opened at -the former city in 1863. "This congress," says a writer, "exerted a magic -influence; the drowsy were aroused from their lethargy, and the -faint-hearted were inspired with confidence: they saw their strength and -felt it. In that congress we see the beginning of a new epoch in the -religious history of Belgium." - -The great benefits arising from this movement were recognized and -encouraged from the start by the Holy Father, in honor of whose approval -the different associations took the name of "Piusvereine," a name still -retained by those held in Switzerland. The first great congress of Malines -was opened under the auspices of his eminence, Cardinal Sterckz, archbishop -of that city, to which the Pope also sent an autograph letter containing -his august sanction and words of benediction. - -Everywhere and by all classes the most lively interest was shown in the -work, and men of merit flocked to take part in the deliberations, members -of the clergy, secular and regular, the nobility, statesmen, philosophers, -editors, professors in every department of science, painters, sculptors, -musicians, architects, builders, heads of pious and charitable societies; -each and all vying with one another in bringing in the fruits of their -learning and experience, that their brethren in the faith might be -benefited by them, and the Catholic cause be strengthened and advanced by -the results of their united efforts. The sentiments with which they were -inspired may be gathered from the following extract of the reply sent by -the congress of Malines to the Holy Father: - - "It is true the trials of our times are great and grievous, and if they - be, they at least should make us Catholics understand the necessity of - organizing with more union and with greater energy than ever, to assure - the liberty of the church and of all the works which she inspires. If - associations are formed from one end of the world to the other for all - the interests of life, and too often for the propagation of evil, we - Catholics have the right, and are in duty bound, to associate ourselves - together for the interests of the good and the true. This sacred right we - intend to exercise with that perseverance and self denial which become - the disciples of Christ. - - "On every hand the enemies of our faith league together to shake the - foundations of the church of God. We, devoted children of that church, - will put together all our forces to defend it. We wish to strengthen the - bonds of charity between us, fortify ourselves against the seductions of - the age, enlighten and encourage one another--to seek, in fine, the means - of comforting and consoling the little ones and the poor, whom our Lord - Jesus Christ loved with such a tender love." - -The report of the assembly records that the reading of this was received -with unanimous and prolonged acclamations. - -That the members of these congresses meant work in coming together is -evident from the report of their proceedings. We have before us two large -octavo volumes of 400 pages each, closely printed, which contain the -accounts of only the congress of Malines, held in 1863. It gives the -speeches, discussions, reports of committees, etc., at length, and is a -record of immense and patient labor, of deep scientific research, and of -earnest and devoted effort. Another volume of equal size is the published -report of the department of religious music alone. In this as well as in -other branches of art and science prizes have been offered of a notable -value for original productions. We observe in a late report of the congress -of Malines of 1866, that the prize offered for a mass, composed according -to the rules adopted by a former congress, brought in seventy-six original -compositions, of which the musical critics (of whose severity there can be -little doubt) reported twenty-one as of first class, and twenty-six of -medium merit. -{435} -The programme of the next congress in the same city, to be opened next -September, offers among others a prize of 1000 francs for the design of a -church. We hope that, among the many of our bishops and distinguished -laymen who will visit Europe this summer, some will be able to find the -time to be present at this great Catholic assembly, and examine its -projects and working. - -The clergy have from the start seconded these congresses with all their -influence, and a very large number of them are regular and active members. -Discourses were pronounced before them by several distinguished prelates, -among whom we remark the names of Cardinal Wiseman and Bishop Dupanloup. -Yet all the members meet upon a perfect equality. The title to membership -is that of merit alone, and the guarantee that one has something positive -to offer for the furtherance of the objects for which the congress is -convened. No one appears as a general delegate of veto, or as a committee -of one on objections; but each one comes well posted up in the department -in which he is interested, well prepared with his documents, notes of -experience, authorities, etc., and hence their deliberations are based upon -solid matter and not upon visionary ideas or imaginary schemes. It is easy -to see how these congresses have produced such practical results as the -advanced state of Catholicity has shown in the last few years throughout -Germany and Belgium. Art in its relations to religion and the church has -been so well encouraged that the congress of 1864 saw over one hundred -artists and archaeologists assembled in council. All that contributes to -the propriety and majesty of the divine service in church decoration and -furniture received special attention, and numerous works have been -published in consequence. - -Catholic journalism received such an impetus that Belgium, small as it is, -now boasts of fifty Catholic periodicals. In Europe they understand the -importance of fostering and purifying this department of public -instruction. A late German writer says: "Journalism is an important -profession, whose members should be conscientious and honorable men. The -journalist addresses his language to an audience far more numerous than the -professors, and at present his influence is, so to say, unlimited; he -reaches every part of educated society, and sways public opinion. He is -called to be the standard-bearer of liberty and truth. He must, therefore, -implant sound principles in the popular mind, and, standing above the reach -of paltry prejudice, unite in himself a high degree of intelligence and -true devotion to the eternal laws of the church. Without independence, -dignity, and moral freedom he cannot do justice to the task imposed on him -by God. _'Impavidum ferient ruinae.'_ In England, America, and -Belgium, the press wields a powerful influence; it has become sovereign, -and is necessary to the nation's life. Science feels that, unless it is -diffused, it is powerless, and that the school-room is too narrow a field." -The foundation of a great Catholic university for Germany is now under -consideration, and a large sum is already subscribed toward it. In this -respect Belgium is far in advance of its more populous and powerful -neighbor. By persistent and united effort the university of Louvain was -established, and it now numbers 800 more students than those of the three -state universities put together. We cannot refrain from transcribing the -following earnest words of the writer already quoted. Speaking of Germany, -he says: - - "We must found a new university, a purely Catholic and free institution, - untrammelled by state dictation, and entirely under the direction of the - church. To do this, the bishops, the nobles, and the clergy must use - their best endeavors; but the professors, too, must do their share, and - not look on with cool indifference, as is the case with most of them. ... - There is neither truce nor rest for us until we are _not only equal, - but superior_ to our opponents in every branch of science." - -{436} - -The congress of Würzburg founded a "Society for the Publication of Catholic -Pamphlets," and it was so well received that in two years' time the number -of its subscribers amounted to 25,000. Few of its many projects proposed -and discussed appear to have met with such an enthusiastic reception and -inspired such lively interest as this. In passing, let us be permitted to -hope that a similar society lately founded in the United States may meet -with a like encouragement, and that our people will appreciate the -necessity of supporting with all their energies this truly apostolic work. - -It is not surprising that the attention of these congresses was turned in -an especial manner to the subject of charity, both corporal and spiritual. -It is the spirit of Catholic charity that prompted these reunions and gave -to them both their life and fruit. Says the writer above quoted, on this -subject: - - "Charity is the culminating point of all activity, for what is religion - but practical love of God and of our neighbor? Truth must not only be - proved, but felt; science and art are the necessary fruits of true - religion; science is not the light, but is to give testimony of the - light. The object of art is the beautiful; of science, the true; and of - charity, the good; but the beautiful, the true, and the good are the - three highest categories--the indispensable conditions of intellectual - activity--the connecting links between the intellect and God, who is the - fountain head and prototype of all being, as well as the last end of - human investigations and aspirations." - -The deliberations of these congresses, therefore, embraced every form of -charity, while they confined themselves to such branches of art and science -as have more or less direct relation to religion. The report of the -congress of Malines before us refers to discussions, resolutions, etc., -upon a vast number of charitable projects, the titles of some of which we -are tempted to lay before our readers, that they have some adequate idea of -the herculean labors of these zealous assemblies. - - Catholic Society for the Burial of the Poor; - Society for the Propagation of the Faith; - Establishment at London of a Seminary for - Missions among the Heathen; - Missions of Herzégovines in Turkey; - Erection of a Catholic Church and Schools in St. Petersburg; - Foundation of a Belgian Mission in China; - Pilgrimages to Rome; - Means of consolidating and developing Catholic - Charitable Institutions; - Extension of the Society of St. Vincent of Paul; - Societies of St. Francis Xavier and - St. John the Baptist for workmen; - OEuvre of the Ladies of Mercy; - OEuvre of Mothers of Families; - Means of extending and propagating Instruction in Free Schools; - Diffusion of Good Books; - Foundation of Public Libraries; - Schools for Deaf-Mutes; - Foundation of a Chair, in the University of - Louvain, of Industry and Mining; - The Subject of the Marriage of Soldiers; - Protectorates of Children; - Protectorates of Students; - do. of Apprentices; - do. of Young Journeymen; - Young Men's Societies in Ireland and elsewhere; - Orphanages; - Hospitals, etc., etc. - -If so much in the matter of charity alone forms the subject of -consideration at one of these congresses, our readers will naturally be led -to suppose that a large number of persons must be brought together on these -occasions. In this they are not mistaken, for at the congress at Würzburg, -in 1864 the number of delegates amounted 7000. What a truly magnificent and -inspiring spectacle must have been presented at the opening of this -assembly, when those _seven thousand_ Catholic men, one in faith, and -united in charity, full of zeal and whole souled devotion to the holy -church, assisted in a body at the grand solemn mass of the Holy Ghost, and -implored on bended knees the benediction of God upon their future labors! - -{437} - -With this scene before our eyes, are not we Catholics of America tempted to -envy them with a holy envy the glorious work in which they are engaged, and -to wish that it was in our own land and for the good of our own people that -all this was done? Is there one who glances at the titles we have given -above of some of their labors, who does not see that we too need, even more -than our brethren in Europe, to have all these subjects relating to the -advancement of religion, the instruction of the people, and the comfort of -the poor brought under consideration, the best means of their -accomplishment discussed, the knowledge and experience of our best Catholic -men, both clergy and laity, brought under contribution, unity and -organization furthered, and, by combining our forces, strike a good blow -for the glory of God and the good of our fellow-men? The laity think of -nothing but of contributing their money when called upon to aid some good -work, and our over-tasked clergy are left to devise, plan, superintend, and -carry out every religious project under heaven. - -Now, it cannot be denied that there are thousands of our laymen fully -competent to co-operate with the clergy in every branch of religious -science, art, and charity. If they would add their minds to their money, -and put their own individual energies to the wheel, a power would at once -be created in the church of the United States irresistible to its enemies, -and a certain guarantee of the glory and triumph of our holy faith. - -The want of such a congress has already been the subject of much serious -reflection with many persons, whose position and duties oblige them to -recognize the necessity of union and cooperation in carrying out the -various good works in which they are engaged. If we are truly imbued with -the spirit of our holy religion, we should not only be far from grudging -the communication of our knowledge and experience to our brethren, but -should rather burn to impart it, to make it profitable to the church at -large; and we are convinced that in no other way could this be so -effectually done as in a congress modelled upon those of Belgium and -Germany. - -The form of their congress is precisely that to which we are well -accustomed here in organized assemblies. All projects are first referred to -particular committees and put in proper shape to be presented before the -whole congress, where they are quickly disposed of according to their -merits. The statutes or rules under which they meet are of such a character -as to produce perfect harmony in their discussions, and the subjects which -are admitted as proper for deliberation and deserving of encouragement are -just such as the good of religion demands attention to and united action -upon at our hands. - -Not a few of the first scientific men in the United States are Catholics. -True science must necessarily be in harmony with the true religion. It has -been the fashion of late to consider that they are in no way related to or -dependent one upon the other. - -The doctrine of Luther, that reason must be left out of account in -religion, and that its judgments are not to be sought for nor relied upon -in matters of faith, has resulted in turning scientific men out of the -church. - -Men will reason, will claim and use their reason as they should, by divine -right; and if you divorce reason from religion, what wonder that they will -accept the decision and look upon science as a department of human -knowledge and belief over which religion has no control? The Catholic -Church has never professed this degrading doctrine; on the contrary, she -has stoutly condemned all propositions implying it in any sense; but still, -Catholic men of science must associate with scientific infidels as -scientific men; they must correspond, deliberate, examine, and discuss -questions of vital importance with them, who make no hesitation in assuming -premises and forming theories the conclusions of which are contradictory to -faith. We are not here accusing our brethren, or casting suspicion upon -their orthodoxy. -{438} -What we intend to imply is simply this, that for want of fraternal -co-operation and mutual recognition and encouragement the false principle -we have alluded to above is gradually gaining ascendency in the popular as -well as in the scientific mind. Had we a "Catholic Academy" composed of the -men who stand high in intellectual culture and scientific research, such an -"academy" as the European congresses are now striving to found, we should -be able to present a bold front in the arena of science, and compel -attention to its true principles and to the fact of their consonance with -the teachings of faith. Thus a right arm of power would be given to the -church from a source which now practically ignores it. It has been our -pleasure to meet in different cities of the Union with many men, devout -Catholics, whose names would grace an academic roll of first class merit. -Indeed, and we say it knowingly, in every profession--in philosophy, -medicine, law, geology, as well as in the army and navy, Catholics rank -with the foremost. What they need, and what the church needs on their -account, we say again, is union, opportunity, and mutual acquaintance and -support. It is impossible to estimate what influence a body of such men -would exert, or with what respect for our holy religion they would inspire -the American public. - -Neither must it be forgotten that the church alone possesses an universal -and complete system of Christian philosophy. For the want of this, -Protestantism has in the main abandoned all attempts to reconcile the -deductions of reason with the dogmas of revelation. Hence, its systems of -dogmatic theology are extremely jejune and discordant. Let us bring this -fact before the minds of the intellectual men of our age and country, and -at once Protestantism as a reasonable system of religion must fall below -their contempt. - -But the institution of a Catholic academy must be consequent upon the -foundation of a Catholic university. We have some good schools, where a -more scholarly knowledge of the classics can be acquired than in -professedly Protestant colleges, but they surpass us in all other branches -of science and intellectual culture. And the reason is plain. Their -professorial chairs are filled by men of superior attainments, whose -services are secured by good salaries. - -Their standard for graduation is, however, extremely low compared to that -required by the European colleges and universities. Indeed, most of our -Protestant and Catholic colleges, too, accord the diploma to all their -students, irrespective of their merits. We ourselves have been called upon, -by a graduate of one of the oldest and most respectable Protestant colleges -in the country, to translate his diploma into English, that the old folks -at home might know what it meant. We need to raise our own colleges to a -higher standard than they now possess, and to offer to our men of talent -the means of completing the imperfect education of an ordinary college -course. To do this we must have an university whose requirements for -matriculation shall demand a rigid examination, in which the candidate must -come off thoroughly successful; whose chairs shall be filled with -first-class professors, and which shall possess an ample endowment for its -purposes. - -This great work, which is the hope of all the scholars in the country, can -only be carried out by united effort on the part of the episcopate and the -wealthy laity, and a congress would be a most fitting opportunity for -bringing the matter to a definitive and practical conclusion. Great men in -council will do great things, and generous souls will be stimulated to -emulate examples of heroic sacrifice. It is a word to the wise. - -Of all the departments of public instruction, the press needs amongst us -the improvement, encouragement, and sanction which a congress is calculated -to give. -{439} -Think of Belgium, with only 5,000,000 inhabitants, supporting over -_fifty_ Catholic periodicals, and possessing numerous societies for -the publication of cheap religious books and pamphlets! Our Catholic -population of the United States is at least equal in number to that of the -whole of Belgium. Yet with all our numbers and means we have not one daily -paper under Catholic supervision, a most important work, to the -establishment of which one of the first efforts of a Catholic congress with -us should be directed. Those who complain of our Catholic press, and make -invidious comparisons between the literary merit of our periodicals and our -neighbors', should remember that editors are professional men, and not to -be obtained for the wages of a day laborer; and that a first-class -periodical must have a first-class circulation. A congress of editors would -tend to elevate the tone of the Catholic press, and its voice would -stimulate all classes to greater effort in promoting a more generous -diffusion of this kind of literature. An increased circulation would enable -the conductors of our journals to pay for original contributions, and -engage the services of first-class writers; an outlay which very few of -them have now the means of making. - -That the Catholic Publication Society, now successfully founded, needs the -influence of a congress to extend its operations to the different cities -and towns of the Union, is plain to be seen. There are hundreds of zealous -persons of every condition of life who are waiting to be told what to do to -advance its interests, who want to see some system of local organization -proposed and sanctioned by some proper authority. Its friends wish to meet -together, to know each other, and after due deliberation to frame fitting -resolutions for action, which upon their return to their respective homes -they may carry into effect. - -This important project cannot be fully realized, and be fruitful, under -God, in instructing and edifying thousands of souls unto salvation, unless -a public and general interest be excited in its success, and with the -active co-operation of the great charitable associations and pious -confraternities now established amongst us. - -There is also a pressing necessity for us to obtain fuller information, and -come to a decision about the subject of church architecture, and all that -relates to the exterior of divine worship. We are building cathedrals and -churches in every style, and on principles which are as various as there -are fancies and theories in the brains of architects. Immense sums of money -are needed and collected for this purpose, and it is of the greatest moment -that they be wisely expended. - -The time has come when every church we erect should be an honor to us for -its architectural beauty, its substantial character, and adaptability to -our needs, and when the generous alms of the faithful should no longer be -thrown away upon unsightly, badly planned, and worse built edifices, of -which so many exist in our country, to the great discomfort of both priest -and people, and monuments (happily not lasting ones) of the want of -knowledge and experience of those who constructed them. - -It becomes us, therefore, to encourage our Catholic architects who -understand the meaning and use of a church. We cannot look for Protestants -to care much for the requirements of the ritual in their designs, or to -appreciate the necessity of insisting upon what the church insists. Their -chief aim is to please their patrons, and carry out whatever is proposed to -them. Few of our Protestant architects know any more about the proper -interior disposition of a Catholic church than they do of a Moslem mosque. - -See, again, how much we suffer from the wretched altar furniture and -sacerdotal vestments imported for our use, and which our clergy are obliged -to take and make a display in their sanctuaries of things belonging in -style to every age of the church. -{440} -How often have we not seen a priest clothed in Roman vestments celebrating -mass at a Gothic altar furnished with Byzantine crucifix and candlesticks, -and a miscellaneous job lot of tawdry French artificial flowers, while the -sacred precinct of the sanctuary would be furnished with carpet and chairs -that smack of the drawing-room or the kitchen? - -These evils existed and do exist in other countries besides our own, and we -see that the congresses of Belgium have done a great deal to correct them -by calling Catholic architects together in council, and offering prizes for -designs of perfect churches built and furnished according to the Ritual, -the Ceremoniale Episcoporum, the Missal, and the decrees of the -Congregation of Rites. - -The music of our churches, what shall we say of it? Are our city churches -to be turned into fashionable concert-rooms where hired Protestant, Jewish, -and infidel artists are to sing their _morceaux de l'opera_ for our -edification? Are our country churches never to witness a high mass -celebrated in them, and the people in those localities never to be convened -for the Vesper service or comforted with the Benediction of the Blessed -Sacrament because there is no one to teach the children at least to sing a -Tantum Ergo? Are our organists always to be irresponsible musicians, guided -by no rubrics, ignorant of fast days and festivals, outraging every sense -of propriety, and banishing all sentiment of piety and devotion by their ad -libitum roulades and fantasias of the most degraded taste? If we must pay -others to sing the praises of God for us, why not also engage others to do -our praying likewise? Cannot we have, as other countries have, voluntary -choirs? Why cannot all the people sing at proper times and seasons, and -join in that part of worship which from its very nature is the best -calculated to awaken the deepest emotions of the soul! - -The question of the feasibility of voluntary choirs or of congregational -singing is no longer wholly a doubtful one. We know of several churches in -the country that have always had voluntary choirs, and we were present -during the past Lent at the services of one of our city churches where the -whole congregation joined with full voices in a popular Lenten service, and -in the solemn recitation of the Way of the Cross, for which they were -prepared at a single public rehearsal in the church. - -The subject of church music, as we have already said, was one to which the -Belgium congresses paid a great deal of attention. The March number of the -Revue Generale of Brussels gives a most interesting report, by Canon -Devroye, of the proceedings of the jury to whom were referred the -adjudication of the prizes offered for an original popular mass, composed, -as says the worthy canon, "according to the rules laid down by the church, -and enforced by our general assembly;" and he observes in another place -that they must "redouble their efforts to procure universal observation of -the rules adopted by the congress, and which are also the rules of the -church and of common sense." Let us hasten to imitate this example of zeal -for the glory of God's house and for the decency and dignity of divine -worship. If we have not many original composers, we have, at any rate, -several good judges among our organists and directors of choirs. Their -united opinion would have a powerful influence in bringing about, what we -do not fear to say is greatly needed, a thorough reformation in our church -music. - -In works of charity we have done a great deal already--enough, it may be, -to hide a multitude of sins; but charity is never content with what it has -done, nor will the objects of its care ever be wanting. "The poor ye have -always with you," said our Lord. They take his place in our midst, and by -their helplessness and suffering soften our selfish hearts, and win from us -those things in the inordinate love of which we are too apt to forget our -true destiny. -{441} -Men may give themselves up with too great ardor to the pursuit of science -and devotion to art, but charity has no dangerous limits which we may not -overpass. What we do for the poor we do for God, and no one can do too much -for him. Yet charity needs wisdom, demands thought, and profits by good -counsel. So that we see men instinctively band themselves together in -associations, that the ignorant, the suffering, the tempted, and the sinful -may be more wisely aided, and more speedily comforted. The religious orders -of charity have their own special rules and organization, and know how to -do their work well. But there are many forms of suffering and of corporal -and spiritual destitution which they cannot reach, or which their rule of -life prevents them from attending to. Enterprises that can embrace these -needy cases for charity in their scope must, therefore, be conducted more -or less entirely by the laity. To be truly effective, these enterprises -need rules and organization, as much as an order of Sisters of Charity or -of Mercy; and organization demands cooperation, deliberation, and union. -The glorious society of St. Vincent de Paul is one of these, and its works -are manifest. Millions of God's beloved poor will rise up at the last day -to praise these devoted children of the church and call them blessed. But -they cannot do all that is to be done. There is great need, especially in -our larger cities and towns, of patronages, protectorates, associations of -young apprentices and workmen, and what are called in Europe "Catholic -Circles," and with us "Young Men's Institutes," which enable our Catholic -youth particularly to enjoy honest recreation and amusement in honest -society, and at the same time improve their minds and refine their manners. -Such institutes have been already founded among us by several zealous -pastors with the most signal success. Our Sunday-schools also have been of -late much improved by the establishment of Sunday-School Unions, which -might be extended to every diocese in the country. To give a proper impetus -to all these works of charity, to make their character and working known, -and encourage their establishment throughout the country, would be one of -the principal subjects to come up for consideration before a congress. - -We have shown enough reasons, we think, why such an assembly should be -convened. Many persons have the matter at heart; and we have perused with -great pleasure some communications on the subject which show a thoughtful -appreciation of its great importance. We trust that what we have written -may help to encourage them and others to give expression to their -sentiments, and thus prepare the public mind, so that the whole body of our -clergy and intelligent laity may be ready to take an active part in it as -soon as the proper authorities shall summon them to meet. A good proposal -has been made, which merits consideration: that the meeting of a congress -be made coincident with the assembling of the General Council of the -Society of St. Vincent de Paul, which now does so much of the work of a -congress in the matter of charity, and which brings together so many men of -the right stamp from all portions of our vast country. This would enable -the congress to profit by the fruits of their experience and influence in a -department where none are more competent than they to give advice and aid. - -Our holy religion is making such rapid advances that there is an urgent -call upon every Catholic to bestir himself, and do all that lies in his -power to aid and support the clergy in their herculean efforts to feed and -comfort the flock of Christ. Converts are pouring in from all quarters, out -of all classes of society. Many of them have been earnest laborers in their -way in the cause of religion and of charity. Let them not find us idle, -neither must we allow them to be idle. Their influence with their -Protestant brethren is great, and we should give them the means of using it -and bringing it to good account. - -{442} - -The charitable power in the church, and the devotion of the clergy to the -spiritual good of the people, has in an especial manner been brought before -the minds of the American public by the events of the late war. Prejudice -is dying out on all sides, and we begin to find it easier to obtain a -hearing from those who have hitherto considered it a duty to turn a deaf -ear to our words of truth. Our hands are full of work, and if we are alive -to our opportunity, we shall accomplish glorious things for God, and not -fail of placing our divine faith, always so fruitful in good works, first -in rank and the highest in esteem before all those fragmentary, defective, -and inefficient forms of Christianity that have up to the present held sway -over the minds and hearts of so large a portion of the American people, and -kept them from the knowledge of that church which, as the church of God, is -Catholic, perfect, and, therefore, alone able to do the work which humanity -claims at the hands of religion. - ------- - - Original. - - Regret. - - - They say she says, "I have no heart." - Could she have seen my tears, - She'd know I keenly felt the smart - That broke the loving tie of years. - - They say she says, "I have no heart." - 'Twere cruel thus to say, - When I, to act the firmer part, - Keep from her sight away. - - They say she says, "I have no heart," - When sight, with tears grows dim; - To think that pride should keep apart - Such friends as we have been. - - They say she says, "I have no heart," - For her, to whom my soul had grown - So closely--that, even when apart, - I felt no joy--because alone. - - Again she says, "I have no heart," - When oft she staid the swelling tear; - As those who loved I saw depart, - I felt they left a sister here. - - How can she say, "I have no heart," - When night and morn I ask in prayer - That we may not be called apart, - Till both breathe forth forgiveness here? - ------- - -{443} - - - Impressions Of Spain. - - By Lady Herbert. - - - Gibraltar And Cadiz. - -The journey from Granada was, if possible, more wearying than before, for -the constant heavy rains had reduced the roads to a perfect Slough of -Despond, in which the wretched mules perpetually sank and fell, and were -flogged up again in a way which, to a nature fond of animals, is the most -insupportable of physical miseries. Is there a greater suffering than that -of witnessing cruelty and wrong which you are powerless to redress? It was -not till nearly eleven o'clock the following day that our travellers found -themselves once more in their old quarters on the Alameda of Malaga. By the -kindness of the superior of the hospital, the usual nine o'clock mass had -been postponed till the arrival of the diligence: and very joyfully did one -of the party afterwards take her old place at the refectory of the -community, whose loving welcome made her forget that she was still in a -strange land. The following three or four days were spent almost entirely -in making preparations for their journey to Gibraltar, _via_ Ronda, -that eagle's nest, perched on two separate rocks, divided by a rapid -torrent, but united by a picturesque bridge, which crowns the range of -mountains forming the limits of the kingdom of Granada. The accounts of the -mountain-path were not encouraging; but to those who had ridden for four -months through the Holy Land, no track, however rugged and precipitous, -offered any terrors. But when the time came, to their intense -disappointment, the road was found to be impassable on the Gibraltar side, -owing to the tremendous torrents, which the heavy rains had swollen to a -most unusual extent. Two officers had attempted to swim their horses over, -but in so doing one of them was drowned; so that there seemed no -alternative but to give up their pleasant riding expedition, and, with it, -the sight of that gem of the whole country which had been one of their main -objects in returning to Malaga. Comforting themselves, however, by the hope -of going there later from Seville, our travellers took berths in the -steamer Cadiz, bound for Gibraltar; and after a beautiful parting -benediction at the little convent of the Nuns of the Assumption, they took -leave of their many kind friends, and, at six o'clock, (accompanied by -Madame de Q---- and her brother to the water's edge,) stepped on board the -boat which was to convey them to their steamer. Their captain, however, -proved faithless as to time; and it was not till morning that the cargo was -all on board and the vessel under weigh for their destination. After a -tedious and rough passage of nineteen hours, they rounded at last the -Europa Point, and found themselves a few minutes later landing on the Water -Port quay of the famous rock. Of all places in Spain, Gibraltar is the -least interesting, except from the British and national point of view. Its -houses, its people, its streets, its language, all are of a detestably -mongrel character. - -The weather, too, during our travellers' stay, was essentially British, -incessant pouring rain and fog alternating with gales so tremendous that -twenty vessels went ashore in one day. Nothing was to be seen from the -windows of the Club-House Hotel but mist and spray, or heard but the boom -of the distress gun from the wrecking ships, answered by the more cheering -cannon of the port. -{444} -But there is a bright side to every picture: and one of the bright sides of -Gibraltar is to be found in its kind and hospitable governor and his wife, -who, nobly laying aside all indulgence in the life-long sorrow which family -events have caused, devote themselves morning, noon, and night to the -welfare and enjoyment of every one around them. Their hospitality is -natural to their duties and position; but the kind consideration which ever -anticipates the wishes of their guests, whether residents or, as our -travellers were, birds of passage, here to-day and gone to-morrow, springs -from a rarer and a purer source. - -Another object of interest to some of our party was the charitable -institutions of the place. The white "cornettes" of the Sisters of Charity -are not seen as yet; but the sisters of the "Bon Secours" have supplied -their place in nursing the sick and tending all the serious cases of every -class in the garrison. Their value only became fully known at the late -fearful outbreak of cholera, to which two of them fell victims: but they -seemed rather encouraged than deterred by this fact. They live in a house -half-way up the hill on the way to Europa Point, which contains a certain -number of old and incurable people and a few orphan children. They visit -also the sick poor in their homes, and in the Civil Hospital, which is -divided, drolly enough, not into surgical and medical wards, but according -to the _religion_ of the patients! one half being Catholic, the other -Protestant, and small wards being reserved likewise for Jews and Moors. It -is admirably managed, the patients are supplied with every necessary and -well cared for by the kind-hearted superintendent, Dr. G----. The "Dames de -Lorette" have a convent towards the Europa Point, where they board and -educate between twenty and thirty young ladies. They have also a large -day-school in the town for both rich and poor, the latter being below and -the former above. The children seem well taught, and the poorer ones were -remarkable for great neatness and cleanliness. The excellent and charming -Catholic bishop, Dr. Scandella, vicar apostolic of Gibraltar, has built a -college for boys on the ground adjoining his palace, above the convent, -from whence the view is glorious; the gardens are very extensive. This -college, which was immensely needed in Gibraltar, is rapidly filling with -students, and is about to be affiliated to the London University. In the -garden above, a chapel is being built to receive the Virgin of "Europa," -whose image, broken and despoiled by the English in 1704, was carried over -to Algeciras, and there concealed in the hermitage; but has now been given -back by Don Eugenio Romero to the bishop, to be placed in this new and -beautiful little sanctuary overlooking the Straits, where it will soon be -once more exposed to the veneration of the faithful. The bishop has lately -built another little church below the convent, dedicated to St. Joseph, but -which, from some defect in the materials, has been a very expensive -undertaking. - -It was very pleasant to see the simple, hearty, manly devotion of the large -body of Catholic soldiers in the garrison, among whom his influence has had -the happiest effect in checking every kind of dissatisfaction and -drunkenness. His personal influence has doubtless been greatly enhanced by -his conduct during the cholera, when he devoted himself, with his clergy, -to the sick and dying, taking regular turns with them in the administration -of the Last Sacraments, and only claiming as his privilege that of being -the one always called up in the night, so that the others might get some -rest. He has two little rooms adjoining the church, where he remains during -the day, and receives any one who needs his fatherly care. - -The Protestant bishop of Gibraltar, a very kind and benevolent man, resides -at Malta, and has a cathedral near the governor's house, lately beautified -by convict labor, and said to be well attended. It is the only Protestant -church in Spain. - -{445} - -Of the sights of Gibraltar it is needless to speak. Our travellers, in -spite of the weather, which rarely condescended to smile upon them, visited -almost everything: the North Fort, Spanish Lines, and Catalan Bay, one day; -Europa Point, with the cool summer residence of the governor, (sadly in -need of government repair,) and St. Michael's Cave, on the next; and last, -not least, the galleries and heights. From the signal tower the view is -unrivalled; and the aloes, prickly pear, and geranium, springing out of -every cleft in the rock, up which the road is beautifully and skilfully -engineered, add to the enjoyment of the ride. The gentlemen of the party -hunted in the cork woods when the weather would allow of it; and the only -"lion" unseen by them were the monkeys, who resolutely kept in their caves -or on the African side of the water during their stay at Gibraltar. The -garden of the governor's palace is very enjoyable, and contains one of -those wonderful dragon-trees of which the bark is said to bleed when an -incision is made. The white arums grow like a weed in this country, and -form most beautiful bouquets when mixed with scarlet geranium and edged by -their large, bright, shining green leaves. - -The time of our travellers was, however, limited, especially as they wished -to spend the Holy Week in Seville. So, after a ten days' stay, reluctantly -giving up the kind offer of the port admiral to take them across to Africa, -and contenting themselves with buying a few Tetuan pots from the Moors at -Gibraltar, they took their passages on board the "London" steamer for -Cadiz. - -By permission of the governor, they were allowed to pass through the gates -after gun-fire, and got to the mole; but there, from some mistake, no boat -could be found to take them off to their vessel, and they had the pleasure -of seeing it steam away out of the harbor without them, although their -passages had been paid for, and, as they thought, secured. In despair, shut -out of the town, where a state of siege, for fear of a surprise, is always -rigorously maintained by the English garrison, they at last bribed a little -boat to take them to a Spanish vessel, the "Allegri," likewise bound for -Cadiz, and which was advertised to start an hour later. In getting on board -of her, however, they found she was a wretched tub, heavily laden with -paraffine, among other combustibles, and with no accommodation whatever for -passengers. There was, however, no alternative but going in her or -remaining all night tossing about the harbor in their cockle-shell of a -boat; so they made up their minds to the least of the two evils, and a few -minutes later saw them steaming rapidly out of the harbor toward Cadiz. The -younger portion of the party found a cabin in which they could lie down: -the elder lay on the cordage of the deck, and prayed for a cessation of the -recent fearful storms, the captain having quietly informed them that in the -event of its coming on to blow again he must throw all their luggage -overboard as well as a good deal of his cargo, as he was already too -heavily laden to be safe. However, the night was calm, though very cold, -and the following morning saw them safely rounding the forts of Cadiz, and -staring at its long, low shores. But then a new alarm seized them. The -quarantine officers came on board with a horrible yellow flag, and talked -big about the cholera having reappeared at Alexandria, and the consequent -impossibility of their being able to produce a clean bill of health. The -prospect of spending a week in that miserable vessel, or in the still more -dismal lazaretto on the shore, was anything but agreeable to our -travellers. However, on the assurance of the captain that the only vessel -arrived from Egypt before they left Gibraltar had been instantly put into -quarantine by the governor, they were at last allowed to land in peace, and -found very comfortable rooms at Blanco's hotel, on the promenade, their -windows and balconies looking on the sea. -{446} -In the absence of the bishop, who was gone to Tetuan, Canon L---- kindly -offered his services to show them the curiosities of the town, and took -them first to the Capuchin convent, now converted into a madhouse, in the -church adjoining which are two very fine Murillos: one, "St. Francis -receiving the Stigmata," which, for spirituality of expression, is really -unrivalled; the other, "The Marriage of St. Catherine," which was his -_last_ work, and is unfinished. The great painter fell from the -scaffolding in 1682, and died very soon after, at Seville, in consequence -of the internal injuries he had received. From this convent they proceeded -to the cathedral, which is ugly enough, but where the organ and singing -were admirable. The stalls in the choir, which are beautifully carved, were -stolen from the Cartucha at Seville. There is a spacious crypt under the -high altar, with a curious flat roof, unsupported by any arches or columns, -but at present it is bare and empty. Their guide then took them to see the -workhouse, or "Albergo dei Poveri," an enormous building, which is even -more admirably managed than the one at Madrid. It contains upwards of a -thousand inmates. The boys are all taught different trades, and the girls -every kind of industrial and needle work. The dormitories and washing -arrangements are excellent; and all the walls being lined, up to a certain -height, with the invariable blue and white "azulejos," or glazed tiles, -gives a clean, bright appearance to the whole. The dress of the children -was also striking to English eyes, accustomed to the hideous workhouse -livery at home. On Sundays they have a pretty and varied costume for both -boys and girls, and their little tastes are considered in every way. They -have a large and handsome church, and also a chapel for the children's -daily prayers, which they themselves keep nice and pretty, and ornament -with flowers from their gardens. The whole thing is like a "_home_" -for these poor little orphans, and in painful contrast to the views which -Protestant England takes of charity in her workhouses, where poverty seems -invariably treated as a crime. The children are in a separate wing of the -building--the girls above, the boys below. On the other side are the sick -wards, and those for the old and incurable, where the same minute care for -their comfort and pleasure is observed in every arrangement. Nor is there -that horrible prison atmosphere, and that locking of doors as one passes -through each ward, which jars so painfully on one's heart in going through -an English workhouse. There are very few able bodied paupers; and those are -employed in the work of the house and garden. There is a spacious "patio," -or court, with an open colonnade of marble columns, running round the -quadrangle, the centre of which is filled with orange-trees and flowers. -This beautiful palace was founded and endowed by the private benevolence of -one man, who dedicated it to St. Helena, in memory of his mother, and -placed in it the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul, who have the -entire care of the whole establishment. There are fifteen sisters, all -Spaniards, but affiliated to the French ones, and with the portrait of N. -T. H. Père Etienne in the place of honor in their "parloir" and refectory. -The superior is a most remarkable woman, little and "contrefaite," but with -a soul in her eyes which it is impossible to forget. The institution is now -in the hands of the government, who have wisely not attempted to make any -alterations in the administration. There are upward of fifty of these -Sisters of Charity in Cadiz, they having the sole charge of the hospitals, -schools, workhouses, etc.; and the admirable cleanliness, order, and -comfort in each which is the result, must commend them to the intelligent -approval of every visitor, even should he be unmoved by the evidence of -that unpaid charity which, with its soft finger-touch, stamps all their -works with the very essence of divine love. - -{447} - -The next day being Palm Sunday, our travellers went to service in the -cathedral. It was very fine, but extremely fatiguing. There are no chairs -or seats in Spanish churches. Every one kneels on the floor the whole time, -not even rising for the Gospel or Creed. On one of the party attempting to -stand up at the long Gospel of the Passion, she was somewhat indignantly -pulled down again by her neighbors. During the sermon, the Spanish women -have a peculiar way of sitting on their heels--a process which they learn -from childhood, but which to strangers is an almost intolerable penance. -Here, as everywhere in Spain, the hideous fashion of bonnets or hats was -unknown, and the universal black mantilla, with its graceful folds and -modest covering of the face, and the absence of all colors to distract -attention in the house of God, made our English ladies sigh more eagerly -than ever for a similar reverent and decent fashion to be adopted at home. -On returning for the vesper service in the afternoon, a beautiful, and, to -them, novel, custom was observed. At the singing of the "Vexilla Regis," -the canons, in long black robes, knelt prostrate in a semicircle before the -high altar, and were covered by a black flag with a red cross. This they -saw repeated daily during the Passion Week services at Seville. In the -evening there was a magnificent benediction and processional service round -the cloisters of the church called "Delle Scalze." It was impossible to -imagine anything more picturesque than the multitude kneeling in the open -"patio," or court, shaded by orange-trees, and full of beautiful flowers, -while round the arches swept the gorgeous procession carrying the Host, the -choir and people singing alternate verses of the "Lauda Sion," the curling -smoke of the incense reflecting prismatic colors in the bright sunshine, -and the whole procession finally disappearing in the sombre, dark old -church, of which the centre doors had been thrown wide open to receive it. -One longed only for Roberts's paint-brush to depict the scene. Returning to -their hotel, our party found the Alameda gay with holiday folk, and full of -the ladies whose beauty and charm have been the pride of Cadiz for so many -generations. Do not let our readers think it invidious if we venture on the -opinion that their beautiful and becoming dress has a great deal to do with -this, just as, in the East, every turbaned Turk or burnoused Arab would -make a perfect picture. Dress your Oriental in one of Poole's best-fitting -coats and trousers, and give him a chimney-pot hat, and where would be his -beauty? In the same way, if--which good taste forefend--the Spanish ladies -come to imagine that a bonnet stuck on the back of the head, and every -color in the rainbow, is prettier than the flowing black robe and softly -folded lace mantilla, shading modestly their bright dark eyes and hair, -they will find, to their cost, that their charm has vanished for ever. - -Nothing more remained to be seen or done in Cadiz but to purchase some of -the beautiful mats which are its great industry, and which are made of a -flat reed or "junco," growing in the neighborhood; and these the kind and, -good-natured English consul undertook to forward to them, when ready, to -England. - - - Seville. - -Armed with sundry letters of introduction sent them from Madrid, our -travellers started by early train for Seville, the amiable Canon L---- -having given them a five o'clock mass before starting, in his interesting -old circular church dedicated to S. Filippo Neri, he being one of the -Oratorians. They passed by Xeres, famous for its sherry cellars, called -"bodegas," supplying more wine to England than to all the rest of the world -put together, and for its Carthusian convent, once remarkable for its -Zurbaran pictures, the greater portion of which have now followed the -sherry to the British Isles; then by Alcalà, noted for its delicious bread, -with which it supplies the whole of Seville; for its Moorish castle and -beautiful river Aira, the waters of which, after flowing round the walls of -the little town, are carried by an aqueduct to Seville; and so on and on, -through orange and olive groves, and wheat plains, and vineyards, till the -train brought them by mid-day to the wonderful and beautiful city which had -been the main object of their Spanish tour. - -{448} - -The saying is strictly true: - - Quien no ha visto Sevilla, - No ha visto maravilla. - -Scarcely had they set foot in their comfortable hotel, the "Fonda de -Londres," when an obliging aide-de-camp of the Spanish general came to tell -them that, if they wanted to see the Alcazar, they must go with him at -once, as the infanta, who had married the sister of the king's consort, was -expected with his wife to occupy the palace that evening, when it would -naturally be closed to visitors. Dusty, dirty, and hot as they were, -therefore, they at once sallied forth with their kind cicerone and the -English consul for this fairy palace of the Moors. Entering by the Plaza -del Triunfo, under an arched gateway, where hangs, day and night, a lamp -throwing its soft light on the beautiful little picture of the Virgin and -Child, they came into a long court, in the midst of which are orange-trees -and fountains, and this again led them by a side door into the inner court -or "patio" of the palace. - -Like the Alhambra, it is an exquisite succession of delicate columns, with -beautifully carved capitals, walls, and balconies, which look as if worked -in Mechlin lace; charmingly cool "patios," with marble floors and -fountains; doors whose geometrical patterns defy the patience of the -painter; horse-shoe arches, with edges fringed like guipure; fretted -ceilings, the arabesques of which are painted in the most harmonious -colors, and tipped with gold; lattices every one of which seems to tell of -a romance of beauty and of love: such are these moresque creations, -unrivalled in modern art, and before which our most beautiful nineteenth -century palaces sink into coarse and commonplace buildings. They are the -realization of the descriptions in the "Arabian Nights," and the exquisite -delicacy of the work is not its sole charm. The _proportions_ of every -room, of every staircase, of every door and window, are perfect: nothing -offends the eye by being too short or too wide. In point of sound, also, -they, as well as the Romans, knew the secret which our modern builders have -lost; and in harmony of color, no "azulejos" of the present day can -approach the beauty and brilliancy of the Moorish tints. Nor are historical -romances wanting to enhance the interest of this wonderful place. In the -bed-chamber of the king, Pedro the Cruel, are painted three dead heads, and -thereon hangs a tale of savage justice. The king overheard three of his -judges combining to give a false judgment in a certain case about which -they had been bribed, and then quarrel about their respective shares of -their ill gotten spoils. He suddenly appeared before them, and causing them -to be instantly beheaded, placed their heads in the niches where now the -paintings perpetuate the remembrance of the punishment. Less excusable was -another tragedy enacted within these walls, in the assassination of the -brother of king, who had been invited as a guest and came unsuspicious of -treachery. A deep red stain of blood in the marble floor still marks the -spot of the murder. Well may Spain's most popular modern poet, the Duque de -Rivas, in his beautiful poem, exclaim: - - "Ann en las losas se mira - Una tenaz mancha oscura; ... - Ni las edades la limpian! ... - Sangre! sangre! Oh cielos! cuantos, - Sin saber que lo es, la pisan!" [Footnote 141] - - [Footnote 141: - "One still sees on the pavement a dark - spot--the lapse of ages has not effaced it! - Blood! blood! O Heaven! how many tread - it under foot without knowing it!"] - -{449} - -The gardens adjoining the palace are quaintly beautiful, the borders edged -with myrtle and box, cut low and thick, with terraces and fountains, and -kiosks, and, "surprises" of "jets d'eau," and arched walls festooned with -beautiful hanging creepers, and a "luxe" of oriental vegetation. On one -side are the white marble baths, cool and sombre, where the beautiful Maria -de Padilla forgot the heat and glare of the Seville sun. It was the custom -of the courtiers in her day to _drink_ the water in which the ladies -had bathed. Pedro the Cruel reproached one of his knights for not complying -with this custom. "Sire," he replied, "I should fear lest, having tasted -the sauce, I should covet the bird!" - -The Alcazar formerly extended far beyond its present limits; but the ruined -towers by the water-side are all that now remain to mark the course of the -old walls. - -Our travellers could not resist one walk through the matchless cathedral on -their way home; but reserved their real visit to that and to the Giralda -till the following day. The kind Regente de la Audiencia and his wife, to -whom they had brought letters of introduction, came to them in the evening, -and arranged various expeditions for the ensuing week. - -Early the next morning the Countess L---- de R---- came to fetch one of the -party to the church of S. Felipe Neri, which, like all the churches of the -Oratorians, is beautifully decorated, and most devout and reverent in its -services. It is no easy matter to go on wheels in the streets of Seville. -There are but two or three streets in which a carriage can go at all, or -attempt to turn; and so to arrive at any given place, it is generally -necessary to make the circuit of half the town. In addition to this, the -so-called pavement, angular, pointed, and broken, shakes every bone in -one's body. To reach their destination on this particular morning, our -friends had to traverse the market place, and make an immense _détour_ -through various squares, passing meanwhile by several very interesting -churches; but it was all so much gain to the stranger. - -After mass, one of the fathers, who spoke English, kindly showed them the -treasures of his church, and amongst other things a beautiful silver-chased -chapel behind the high altar, containing some exquisite bénitières, -crucifixes, and relics. The wooden crucifixes of Spain, mostly carved by -great men, such as Alonso Caño or Montanés, are quite wonderful in beauty -and force of expression; but they are very difficult to obtain. They have a -pretty custom in this church of offering two turtle doves in a pure white -basket when a child is devoted to the Blessed Virgin, which are left on the -altar, as in the old days of the Purification, and the white basket is -afterward laid up in the chapel. After breakfast the whole party arrived at -the cathedral. How describe this wonderful building! To say it is such and -such a height, and such and such a width, that it has so many columns, and -so many chapels, and so many doors, and so many windows. ... Why, Murray -has done that far better than any one else! But to understand the cathedral -at Seville, you must know it; you must feel it; you must live in it; you -must see it at the moment of the setting sun, when the light streams in -golden showers through those wonderful painted glass windows, (those -_chefs d'oeuvre_ of Arnold of Flanders,) jewelling the curling smoke -of the incense still hanging round the choir; or else go there in the dim -twilight, when the aisles seem to lengthen out into infinite space, and the -only bright spot is from the ever-burning silver lamps which hang before -the tabernacle. - -One of the party, certainly not given to admiration of either churches or -Catholicity, exclaimed on leaving it: "It is a place where I could not help -saying my prayers!" The good-natured Canon P---- showed them all the -treasures and pictures. They are too numerous to describe in detail; but -some leave an indelible impression. Among these is Murillo's wonderful St. -Antony, in the baptistery; Alonso Caño's delicious little Virgin and Child, -(called Nuestra Señora de Belem;) Morales's Dead Christ; -{450} -a very curious old Byzantine picture of the Virgin; and in the sacristy, -the exquisite portraits by Murillo of St. Leander, archbishop of Seville, -the great reformer of the Spanish liturgy, whose bones rest in a silver -coffin in the Capilla Real, and of St. Isadore, his brother, who succeeded -him in the see, called the "Excellent Doctor," and whose body rests at -Leon. Here also is a wonderful "Descent from the Cross," by Campana, before -which Murillo used to sit, and say "he waited till he was taken down;" and -here, by his own particular wish, the great painter is buried. There is, -besides, a fine portrait of St. Teresa; and round the handsome chapter-room -are a whole series of beautiful oval portraits by Murillo, and also one of -his best "Conceptions." Among the treasures is the cross made from the gold -which Christopher Columbus brought home from America, and presented to the -king; the keys of the town given up to Ferdinand by the Moorish king at the -conquest of Seville; two beautiful ostensorios of the fifteenth century, -covered with precious stones and magnificent pearls; beautiful Cinquecento -reliquaries presented by different popes; finely illuminated missals in -admirable preservation; an exquisitely carved ivory crucifix; wonderful -vestments, heavy with embroidery and seed-pearls; the crown of King -Ferdinand; and last, not least, a magnificent tabernacle altar-front, -angels and candle-sticks, all in solid silver, beautiful in workmanship and -design, used for Corpus Christi, and other solemn feasts of the Blessed -Sacrament. One asks one's self very often: "How came all these treasures to -escape the rapacity of the French spoilers?" - -The Royal Chapel contains the body of St. Ferdinand, the pious conqueror of -Seville, which town, as well as Cordova, he rescued from the hands of the -Moors, after it had been in their possession five hundred and twenty-four -years. This pious king, son to Alphonse, king of Leon, bore witness by his -conduct to the truth of his words on going into battle: "Thou, O Lord! who -searchest the hearts of men, knowest that I desire but thy glory, and not -mine." To his saint-like mother, Berangera, he owed all the good and holy -impressions of his life. He helped to build the cathedral of Toledo, of -which he laid the first stone, and, in the midst of the splendors of the -court, led a most ascetic and penitential life. Seville surrendered to him -in 1249, after a siege of sixteen months, on which occasion the Moorish -general exclaimed that "only a saint who, by his justice and piety, had won -heaven over to his interest, could have taken so strong a city with so -small an army." By the archbishop's permission, the body of the saint was -exposed for our travellers. It is in a magnificent silver shrine; and the -features still retain a remarkable resemblance to his portraits. His -banner, crown, and sword were likewise shown to them, and the little ivory -Virgin which he always fastened to the front of his saddle when going to -battle. The cedar coffin still remains in which his body rested previous to -its removal to this more gorgeous shrine. On the three days in the year -when his body is exposed, the troops all attend the mass, and lower their -arms and colors to the great Christian conqueror. A little staircase at the -back of the tomb brings you down into a tiny crypt, where, arranged on -shelves, are the coffins of the beautiful Maria Padilla, of Pedro the -Cruel, and of their two sons: latterly, those of the children of the Duc -and Duchesse de Montpensier have been added. Over the altar of the chapel -above hangs a very curious wooden statue of the Virgin, given to St. -Ferdinand by the good king Louis of France. King Ferdinand adorned her with -a crown of emeralds and a stomacher of diamonds, belonging to his mother, -on condition that they should never be removed from the image. - -{451} - -The organs are among the wonders of this cathedral, with their thousands of -pipes, placed horizontally, in a fan-like shape. The "retablo" at the back -of the high altar is a marvel of wood-carving; and the hundreds of lamps -which burn before the different shrines are all of pure and massive silver. -One is tempted to ask: "Was it by men and women like ourselves that -cathedrals such as this were planned and built and furnished?" The chapter -who undertook it are said to have deprived themselves even of the -necessaries of life to erect a basilica worthy of the name; and in this -spirit of voluntary poverty and self-abnegation was it begun and completed. -Never was there a moment when money was so plentiful in England as now, yet -where will a cathedral be found built since the fifteenth century? - -At the west end lies Fernando, son of the great Christopher Columbus, who -himself died at Valladolid, and is said to rest in the Havana. The motto on -the tomb is simple but touching: - - A Castilla y á Leon, - mundo nuevo dió Colon. - -Over this stone, during holy week, is placed the "monumento," an enormous -tabernacle, more than 100 feet high, which is erected to contain the sacred -host on Holy Thursday: when lighted up, with the magnificent silver -custodia, massive silver candlesticks, and a profusion of flowers and -candles, it forms a "sepulchre" unequalled in the world for beauty and -splendor. - -Passing at last under the Moorish arch toward the north-east end of the -cathedral, our travellers found themselves in a beautiful cloistered -"patio," full of orange-trees in full blossom, with a magnificent fountain -in the centre. In one corner is the old stone pulpit from which St. Vincent -Ferrer, St. John of Avila, and other saints preached to the people: an -inscription records the fact. Over the beautiful door which leads into the -cathedral hang various curious emblems: a horn, a crocodile, a rod, and a -bit, said to represent plenty, prudence, justice, and temperance. To the -left is the staircase leading to the Columbine library, given by Fernando, -and containing some very interesting MSS. of Christopher Columbus. One book -is full of quotations, in his own handwriting, from the Psalms and the -Prophets, proving the existence of the New World; another is a plan of the -globe and of the zodiac drawn out by him. There is also a universal -history, with copious notes, in the same bold, clear, fine handwriting; and -a series of his letters to the king, written in Latin. Above the -bookshelves are a succession of curious portraits, including those of -Christopher Columbus and his son Fernando, which were given by Louis -Philippe to the library; of Velasquez; of Cardinal Mendoza; of S. Fernando, -by Murillo; and of our own Cardinal Wiseman, who, a native of Seville, is -held in the greatest love and veneration here. A touching little account of -his life and death has lately been published in Seville by the talented -Spanish author, Don Leon Carbonero y Sol, with the appropriate heading, -"Sicut vita finis ita." Our party were also shown the sword of Fernand -Gonsalves, a fine two-edged blade, which did good service in rescuing -Seville from the Moors. - -Redescending the stairs, our travellers mounted the beautiful Moorish tower -of the Giralda, built in the twelfth century by Abu Yusuf Yacub, who was -also the constructor of the bridge of boats across the Guadalquiver. This -tower forms the great feature in every view of Seville, and is matchless -both from its rich yellow and red-brown color, its sunken Moorish -decorations, and the extreme beauty of its proportions. It was originally -250 feet high, and built as a minaret, from whence the muezzin summoned the -faithful to prayers in the mosque hard by; but Ferdinand Riaz added another -100 feet, and, fortunately, in perfect harmony with the original design. He -girdled it with a motto from Proverbs xviii.: "Nomen Domini fortissima -turris." - -{452} - -The ascent is very easy, being by ramps sloping gently upward. The Giralda -is under the special patronage of SS. Justina and Rufina, daughters of a -potter in the town, who suffered martyrdom in 304 for refusing to sell -their vessels for the use of the heathen sacrifices. Sta. Justina expired -on the rack, while Sta. Rufina was strangled. The figure which crowns the -tower is that of Faith, and is in bronze, and beautifully carved. - -The bells are very fine in tone; but what repays one for the ascent is the -view, not only over the whole town and neighborhood, but over the whole -body of the huge cathedral, with its forest of pinnacles and its -wonderfully constructed roof, which looks massive enough to outlast the -world. The delicate Gothic balustrades are the home of a multitude of -hawks, (the _Falco tinunculoides_,) who career round and round the -beautiful tower, and are looked upon almost as sacred birds. - -The thing which strikes one most in the look of the town from hence is the -absence of streets. From their excessive narrowness, they are invisible at -this great height, and the houses seem all massed together, without any -means of egress or ingress. The view of the setting sun from this tower is -a thing never to be forgotten; nor the effect of it lit up at night, when -it seems to hang like a brilliant chandelier from the dark blue vault -above. - -Tired as our travellers were, they could not resist one short visit that -afternoon to the Museum, and to that wonderful little room below, which -contains a few pictures only, but those few unrivalled in the world. - -Here, indeed, one sees what Murillo could do. The "St. Thomas of -Villanueva," giving alms to the beggar, (called by the painter himself his -_own_ picture;) the "St. Francis" embracing the crucified Saviour; the -"St. Antony," with a lily in adoration before the infant Jesus; the -"Nativity;" the "San Felix de Cantalicia," holding the infant Saviour in -his arms, which the blessed Virgin is coming down to receive; the "SS. -Rufina and Justina;" and last, not least, the Virgin, which earned him the -title of "El Pintor de las Concepciones." Each and all are matchless in -taste, in expression, in feeling; above all, in devotion. It is impossible -to meditate on any one of these mysteries in our blessed Lord's life -without the recollection of one of these pictures rising up instantly in -one's mind, as the purest embodiment of the love, or the adoration, or the -compunction, which such meditations are meant to call forth; they are in -themselves a prayer. - -In the evening one of the party went with the regent to call on the -venerable cardinal archbishop, whose fine palace is exactly opposite the -east front of the cathedral. It was very sad to wind up that fine -staircase, and see him in that noble room, groping his way, holding on by -the wall, for he is quite blind. It is hoped, however, that an operation -for cataract, which is contemplated, may be successful. He was most kind, -and gave the English stranger a place in the choir of the cathedral for the -processional services of the holy week and Easter--a great favor, generally -only accorded to royalty, and of which the lady did not fail to take -advantage. M. Leon Carbonero y Sol, the author and clever editor of the -"Crux," paid them a visit that evening. By his energy and perseverance this -monthly periodical has been started at Seville, which is an event in this -non-literary country; and he has written several works, both biographical -and devotional, which deserve a wider reputation than they have yet -obtained. - -The following, day, being Wednesday in holy week, the whole party returned -to the cathedral, to see the impressive and beautiful ceremony of the -Rending of the White Veil, and the "Rocks being rent," at the moment when -that passage is chanted in the Gospel of the Passion. The effect was very -fine; and all the more from the sombre light of the cathedral, every window -in which was shaded by black curtains, and every picture and image shrouded -in black. [Footnote 142] - - [Footnote 142: Faber says very beautifully: "Passion-tide veils the - face of the crucifix, only that it may be more vivid in our hearts."] - -{453} - -At vespers, the canons, as at Cadiz, knelt prostrate before the altar, and -were covered with a black red-cross flag. At four o'clock our travellers -went to the Audiencia, where the regent and his kind wife had given them -all seats to see the processions. How are these to be described? They are -certainly appreciated by the people themselves; but they are not suited to -English taste, especially in the glare of a Seville sun: and unless -representations of the terrible and awful events connected with our Lord's -passion be depicted with the skill of a great artist, they become simply -intensely painful. The thing which was touching and beautiful was the -orderly arrangement of the processions themselves, and the way in which men -of the highest rank, of royal blood, and of the noblest orders, did not -hesitate to walk for hours through the dusty, crowded, burning streets for -three successive days, with the sole motive of doing honor to their Lord, -whose badge they wore. - -The processions invariably ended by passing through the cathedral and -stopping for some minutes in the open space between the high altar and the -choir. The effect of the brilliant mass of light thrown by thousands of wax -tapers, as the great unwieldy catafalque was borne through the profound -darkness of the long aisles, was beautiful in the extreme; and -representations which looked gaudy in the sunshine were mellowed and -softened by the contrast with the night. The best were "The Sacred -Infancy," the "Bearing of the Cross," and the "Descent from the Cross." In -all, the figures were the size of life, and these three were beautifully -and naturally designed. Less pleasing to English eyes, in spite of their -wonderful splendor, were those of the blessed Virgin, decked out in -gorgeous velvet robes, embroidered in gold, and covered with jewels, with -lace pocket-handkerchiefs in the hand, and all the paraphernalia of a fine -lady of the nineteenth century! It is contrary to our purer taste, which -thinks of her as represented in one of Raphael's chaste and modest -pictures, with the simple robe and headdress of her land and people; or -else in the glistening white marble, chosen by our late beloved cardinal as -the fittest material for a representation of her in his "Ex Voto," and -which speaks of the spotless purity of her holy life. Leaving the house of -the regent, the party made their way with difficulty through the dense -crowd to the cathedral, where the Tenebrae began, followed by the Miserere, -beautifully and touchingly sung, without any organ accompaniments, at the -high altar. It was as if the priests were pleading for their people's sins -before the throne of God. The next day was spent altogether in these solemn -holy Thursday services. After early communion at the fine church of S. -Maria Magdalena, thronged, like all the rest, with devout worshippers, our -party went to high mass at the cathedral, after which the blessed -sacrament, according to custom, was carried to the gigantic "monumento." or -sepulchre, before mentioned, erected at the west door of the cathedral, and -dazzling with light. Then came the "Cena" in the archbishop's palace, at -which his blindness prevented his officiating; and then our travellers went -round the town to visit the "sepulchres" in the different churches, one -more beautiful than the other, and thronged with such kneeling crowds that -going from one to the other was a matter of no small difficulty. The heat -also increased the fatigue; and here, as at Palermo, no carriages are -allowed from holy Thursday till Easter day: every one must perform these -pious pilgrimages on foot. At half past two, they went back to the -cathedral for the washing of the feet. An eloquent sermon followed, and -then began the Tenebrae and the Miserere as before, with the entry of the -processions between: the whole lasted till half-past eleven at night. - -{454} - -Good Friday was as solemn as the same day is at Rome or at Jerusalem. The -adoration of the cross in the cathedral was very fine: but women were not -allowed to kiss it as in the Holy City. After that was over, some of the -party, by the kind invitation of the Duc and Duchesse de Montpensier, went -to their private chapel, at St. Elmo, for the "Tre Ore d'Agonic," being -from twelve to three o'clock, or the hours when our Saviour hung upon the -cross. It was a most striking and impressive service. The beautiful chapel -was entirely hung with black, and pitch dark. On entering, it was -impossible to see one's way among the kneeling figures on the floor, all, -of course, in deep mourning. The sole light was very powerfully thrown on a -most beautiful picture of the crucifixion, in which the figures were the -size of life. The sermon, or rather meditation on the seven words of our -Lord on the cross, was preached by the superior of the oratory of S. -Felippo Neri, a man of great eloquence and personal holiness. It would be -impossible to exaggerate the beauty and pathos of two of these meditations; -the one on the charity of our blessed Lord, the other on his desolation. A -long low sob burst from the hearts of his hearers at the conclusion of the -latter. The wailing minor music between was equally beautiful and -appropriate; it was as the lament of the angels over the lost, in spite of -the tremendous sacrifice! At half-past three, the party returned to the -cathedral, where the services lasted till nine in the evening, and then -came home in the state of mind and feeling so wonderfully represented by De -la Roche, in the last portion of his "Good Friday" picture. Beautifully -does Faber exclaim: "The hearts of the saints, like sea-shells, murmur of -the passion evermore." - -The holy Saturday functions began soon after five the next morning, and -were as admirably conducted as all the rest. Immense praise was due to the -"maestro de ceremonias," who had arranged services so varied and so -complicated with such perfect order and precision: and the conduct of the -black-veiled kneeling multitude throughout was equally admirable; one and -all seemed absorbed by the devotions of the time and season. - -That evening, the Vigil of Easter was spent in the cathedral by some of our -party in much the same manner as they had done on a preceding one in the -Holy City two years before. The night was lovely. The moon was streaming -through the cloisters on the orange-trees of the beautiful "patio," across -which the Giralda threw a deep sharp shadow, the silver light catching the -tips of the arches, and shining with almost startling brightness on the -"Pietà" in the little wayside chapel at the south entrance of the court. -All spoke of beauty, and of peace, and of rest, and of stillness, and of -the majesty of God. Inside the church were groups of black or veiled -figures, mostly women, (were not women the first at the sepulchre?) -kneeling before the tabernacle, or by the little lamps burning here and -there in the side chapels. Each heart was pouring forth its secret burden -of sorrow or of sin into the sacred heart which had been so lately pierced -to receive it. At two in the morning matins began, "Haec dies quam fecit -Dominus;" and after matins a magnificent Te Deum, pealed forth by those -gigantic organs, and sung by the whole strength of the choir and by the -whole body of voices of the crowd, which by that time had filled every -available kneeling space in the vast cathedral. Then came a procession; all -the choristers in red cassocks, with white cottas and little gold diadems. -High mass followed, and then low masses at all the side altars, with -hundreds of communicants, and the Russian salutation of "Christ is risen!" -on every tongue. It was "a night to be remembered," as indeed was all this -holy week: and now people seemed too happy to speak; joy says short words -and few ones. -{455} -Many have asked: "Is it equal to Jerusalem or Rome?" In point of services, -"Yes;" in point of interest, "No;" for the presence of the Holy Father in -the one place, and the vividness of recollection which the actual scenes of -our blessed Lord's passion inspires in the other, must ever make the holy -and eternal cities things apart and sacred from all besides. But nowhere -else can "fonctions" be seen in such perfection or with such solemnity as -at Seville. Everything is reverently and well done, and nothing has changed -in the ceremonial for the last three hundred years. - -A domestic sorrow had closed the palace of the Duc and Duchesse de -Montpensier as far as their receptions were concerned; but they kindly gave -our party permission to see both house and gardens, which well deserve a -visit. The palace itself reminded them a little of the Duc d'Aumale's at -Twickenham: not in point of architecture, but in its beautiful and -interesting contents; in its choice collections of pictures, and books, and -works of art, and in the general tone which pervaded the whole. There are -two exquisite Murillos; a "St. Joseph" and a "Holy Family;" a "Divino -Morales;" a "Pieta;" some beautiful "Zurbarans;" and some very clever and -characteristic sketches by Goya. They have some curious historical -portraits also, and some very pretty modern pictures. The rooms and -passages abound in beautiful cabinets, rare china, sets of armor, African -trappings, and oriental costumes. In the snug low rooms looking on the -garden, and reminding one of Sion or of Chiswick, there are little -fountains in the centre of each, combining oriental luxury and freshness -with European comfort. The gardens are delicious. They contain a -magnificent specimen of the "palma regis," and quantities of rare and -beautiful shrubs; also an aviary of curious and scarce birds. You wander -for ever through groves of orange, and palms, and aloes, and under -trellises covered with luxuriant creepers and clustering roses, with a -feeling of something like envy at the climate, which seems to produce -everything with comparatively little trouble or culture. To be sure there -is "le revers de la médaille," when the scorching July sun has burnt up all -this lovely vegetation. But the spring in the garden of St. Elmo is a thing -to dream about. - -From this enjoyable palace our party went on to visit "Pilate's House," so -called because built by Don Enrique de Ribera, of the exact proportions of -the original, in commemoration of his pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1519. It -is now the property of the Duque de Medina Sidonia. Passing into a cool -"patio," you see a black cross, marking the first of the stations of a very -famous Via Crucis, which begins here and ends at the Cruz del Campo outside -the town. There is a pretty little chapel opening out of the "patio," -ornamented with Alhambra work, as is all the rest of this lovely little -moresque palace. It is a thorough bit of Damascus, with its wonderful -arabesqued ceilings, and lace-like carvings on the walls and staircases, -and cloistered "patios," and marble floors and fountains. Behind is a -little garden full of palms, orange-trees, and roses in full flower, and, -at the time our travellers saw it, carpeted with Neapolitan violets; quaint -low hedges, as in the Alcazar gardens, divided the beds, and broken -sculpture lay here and there. - -One of the great treasures of Seville had yet been unvisited by our party, -and that was the Lonja, formerly the Exchange, a noble work of Herrera's. -It stands between the cathedral and the Alcazar, and is built in the shape -of a great quadrangle, each side being about two hundred feet wide. -Ascending the fine marble staircase, they came to the long "sala" -containing the famous "Indian Archives," that is, all the letters and -papers concerning the discovery of South America. -{456} -There are thousands of MS. letters, beautifully arranged and docketed; and -among them the autographs of Fernando Cortes, Pizarro, Magellan, Americo -Vespuzio, (who could not write his own name, and signed with a mark,) Fra -Bartolomeo de las Cazas, and many others. There is also the original bull -of the pope, granting the new South American discoveries to the Spaniards; -and another, defining the rights between the Spaniards and the Portuguese -in the matter of the conquered lands. The librarian, a very intelligent and -good-natured personage, also showed them a curious list, sent home and -signed by Fernando Cortes, of the silks, painted calabashes, feathers, and -costumes presented by him to the king; and a quantity of autograph letters -of Charles V., Ferdinand and Isabella, and of Philip IV. Fernando Cortes -died at Castilleja, on December 3, 1547, and the following day his body was -transported to the family vault of the Duque de Medina Sidonia, in the -monastery of San Isidoro del Campo. The Duc de Montpensier has purchased -the house, and made a collection of everything belonging to the great -discoverer, including his books, his letters, various objects of natural -history, and some very curious portraits, not only of Cortes himself, but -of Christopher Columbus, Pizarro, Magellan, the Marques del Valle, (of the -Sicilian family of Monteleone,) Bernal Diaz, Velasquez, of the historian of -the conquest of Mexico, Don Antonio Solis, and many others. - -In the afternoon, the Marques de P---- called for our travellers to take -them to the university, and to introduce them to the rector and to the -librarian, whose name was the well-deserved one of Don José Bueno, a most -clever and agreeable man, whose pure Castilian accent made his Spanish -perfectly intelligible to his English visitors. He very good-naturedly -undertook to show them all the most interesting MSS. himself, together with -some beautiful missals, rare first editions of various classical works, and -some very clever etchings of Goya's of bull-fights and ladies--the latter -of doubtful propriety. In the church belonging to the university are some -fine pictures by Roelas and Alonso Cafio, some beautiful carvings by -Montanés, and several very fine monuments. In the rector's own room is a -magnificent "St. Jerome," by Lucas Kranach, the finest work of that artist -that exists. There are 1,200 students in this university, which rivals that -of Salamanca in importance. - -Taking leave of the kind librarian, the Marques de P---- went on to show -them a private collection of pictures belonging to the Marques Cessera. -Amidst a quantity of rubbish were a magnificent "Crucifixion," by Alonso -Caño; a Crucifix, painted on wood, by Murillo, for an infirmary, and -concealed by a Franciscan during the French occupation in 1812; a Zurbaran, -with his own signature in the corner; and, above all, a "Christ bound with -the Crown of Thorns," by Murillo, which is the gem of the whole collection, -and perfectly beautiful both in coloring and expression. - -Coming home, they went to see the house to which Murillo was taken after -his accident at Cadiz, and where he finally died; also the site of his -original burial, before his body was removed to the cathedral where it now -rests. - -But one of the principal charms of our travellers' residence in Seville has -not yet been mentioned; and that was their acquaintance, through the kind -Bishop of Antinoe, with Fernan Caballero. She may be called the Lady -Georgiana Fullerton of Spain, in the sense of refinement of taste and -catholicity of feeling. But her works are less what are commonly called -novels than pictures of home life in Spain, like Hans Andersen's -"Improvisatore," or Tourgeneff's "Scènes de la Vie en Russie." - -This charming lady, by birth a German on the father's side, and by marriage -connected with all the "bluest blood" in Spain, lives in apartments given -her by the queen in the palace of the Alcazar. -{457} -Great trials and sorrows have not dimmed the fire of her genius or -extinguished one spark of the loving charity which extends itself to all -that suffer. Her tenderness toward animals, unfortunately a rare virtue in -Spain, is one of her marked characteristics. She has lately been striving -to establish a society in Seville for the prevention of cruelty to animals, -after the model of the London one, and often told one of our party that she -never left her home without praying that she might not see or hear any -ill-usage to God's creatures. She is no longer young, but still preserves -traces of a beauty which in former years made her the admiration of the -court. Her playfulness and wit, always tempered by a kind thoughtfulness -for the feelings of others, and her agreeableness in conversation, seem -only to have increased with lengthened experience of people and things. -Nothing was pleasanter than to sit in the corner of her little -drawing-room, or, still better, in her tiny study, and hear her pour out -anecdote after anecdote of Spanish life and Spanish peculiarities, -especially among the poor. But if one wished to excite her, one had but to -touch on questions regarding her faith and the so-called "progress" of her -country. Then all her Andalusian blood would be roused, and she would -declaim for hours in no measured terms against the spoliation of the -monasteries, those centres of education and civilization in the villages -and outlying districts; against the introduction of schools without -religion, and colleges without faith; and the propagation of infidel -opinions through the current literature of the day. - -Previous acquaintance with the people had already made some of our -travellers aware of the justice of many of her remarks. Catholicism in -Spain is not merely the religion of the people; _it is their life_. It -is so mixed up with their common expressions and daily habits, that, at -first, there seems to a stranger almost an irreverence in their ways. It is -not till you get thoroughly at home, both with them and their language, -that you begin to perceive that holy familiarity, if one may so speak, with -our divine Lord and his Mother which impregnates their lives and colors all -their actions. Theirs is a world of traditions, which familiarity from the -cradle have turned into faith, and for that faith they are ready to die. -Ask a Spanish peasant why she plants rosemary in her garden. She will -directly tell you that it was on a rosemary-bush that the blessed Virgin -hung our Saviour's clothes out to dry as a baby. Why will a Spaniard never -shoot a swallow? Because it was a swallow that tried to pluck the thorns -out of the crown of Christ as he hung on the cross. Why does the owl no -longer sing? Because he was by when our Saviour expired, and since then his -only cry is "Crux! crux!" Why are dogs so often called Melampo in Spain? -Because it was the name of the dog of the shepherds who worshipped at the -manger at Bethlehem. What is the origin of the red rose? A drop of the -Saviour's blood fell on the white roses growing at the foot of the cross -and so on, for ever! Call it folly, superstition--what you will. You will -never eradicate it from the heart of the people, for it is as their flesh -and blood, and their whole habits of thought, manners, and customs run in -the same groove. They have, like the Italians, a wonderful talent for -"improvising" both stories and songs; but the same beautiful thread of -tender piety runs through the whole. - -One day, Fernan Caballero told them, an old beggar was sitting on the steps -of the Alcazar: two or three children, tired of play, came and sat by him, -and asked him, child-like, for "a story." He answered as follows: "There -was once a hermit, who lived in a cave near the sea. He was a very good and -charitable man, and he heard that in a village on the mountain above there -was a very bad fever, and that no one would go and nurse the people for -fear of infection. -{458} -So up he toiled, day after day, to tend the sick, and look after their -wants. At last he began to get tired, and to think it would be far better -if he were to move his hermitage up the hill, and save himself the daily -toil. As he walked up one day, turning this idea over in his mind, he heard -some one behind him saying: 'One, two, three.' He looked round, and saw no -one. He walked on, and again heard: 'Four, five, six, seven.' Turning short -round this time, he beheld one in white and glistening raiment, who gently -spoke as follows: 'I am your guardian angel, and am _counting the steps -which you take for Christ's poor_.'" - -The children understood the drift of it as well as you or I, reader! and -this is a sample of their daily talk. Their reverence for age is also a -striking and touching characteristic. The poorest beggar is addressed by -them as "tio" or "tia," answering to our "daddy" or "granny;" and should -one pass their cottage as they are sitting down to their daily meal, they -always rise and offer him a place, and ask him to say grace for them, -"echar la benedicion." They are, indeed, a most lovable race, and their -very pride increases one's respect for them. Often in their travels did one -of the party lose her way, either in going to some distant church in the -early morning, or in visiting the sick; and often was she obliged to have -recourse to her bad Spanish to be put in the right road. An invariable -courtesy, and generally an insistence on accompanying her home, was the -result. But if any money or fee were offered for the service, the indignant -refusal, or, still worse, the _hurt_ look which the veriest child -would put on at what it considered the height of insult and unkindness, -very soon cured her of renewing the attempt. - -Another touching trait in their character is their intense reverence for -the blessed sacrament. In the great ceremonies of the church, or when it is -passing down the street to a sick person, the same veneration is shown. One -day, one of the English ladies was buying some photographs in a shop, and -the tradesman was explaining to her the different prices and sizes of each, -when, all of a sudden, he stopped short, exclaiming: "Sua Maestà viene!" -and leaving the astonished lady at the counter, rushed out of his -shop-door. She, thinking it was the royalties, who were then at the -Alcazar, went out too to look, when, to her pleasure and surprise, she saw -the shopman and all the rest of the world, gentle and simple, kneeling -reverently in the mud before the messenger of the Great King, who was -bearing the host to a dying man. On the day when it is carried -processionally to the hospitals, (one of which is the first Sunday after -Easter,) every window and balcony is "parata," or hung with red, as in -Italy at the passage of the Holy Father; every one throws flowers and -bouquets on the baldachino, and that to such an extent that the choir-boys -are forced to carry great clothes-baskets to receive them: the people -declare that the very horses kneel! The feast of Corpus Christi was -unfortunately not witnessed by our travellers. Calderon, in his Autos -Sacramentales, speaking of it, says: - - "Que en el gran dia de Dios, - Quien no está loco, no es cuerdo!" - -Here is indeed "a voice from the land of faith." The choir on the occasion -dance before the host a dance so solemn, so suggestive, and so peculiar, -that no one who has witnessed it can speak of it without emotion. Fernan -Caballero talked much also of the great purity of morals among the -peasantry. Infanticide, that curse of England, is _absolutely unknown in -Spain_; whether from the number of foundling hospitals, or from what -other reasons, we leave it to the political economists to discover. A -well-known Spanish writer describes the women as having "Corazones -delectos, minas de amores," and being "puros y santos modelos de esposas y -de madres." (Exceptional hearts, mines of love, and being pure and holy -models of wives and mothers.) -{459} -They are also wonderfully cleanly, both in their houses and their persons. -There are never any bad smells in the streets or lodgings. Fleas abound -from the great heat; but no other vermin is to be met with either in the -inns or beds, or in visiting among the sick poor, in all of which they form -a marked contrast to the Italian peasantry, and, I fear we must add, to the -English! - -Their courtesy toward one another is also widely different from the -ordinary gruff, boorish intercourse of our own poor people; and the very -refusal to a beggar, "Perdone, Usted, por Dios, hermano!" [Footnote 143] -speaks of the same gentle consideration for the feelings of their neighbors -which characterizes the race, and emanates from that divine charity which -dwells not only on their lips, but in their hearts. One peculiarity in -their conversation has not yet been alluded to, and that is their passion -for proverbs. They cannot frame a sentence without one, and they are mostly -such as illustrate the kindly, trustful, pious nature the people. "_Haz -lo bien, y no mira á quien._" (Do good, and don't look to whom.) -"_Quien no es agradecido, no es bien nacido._" (He who is not -courteous is not well born.) "_Cosa cumplida solo en la otra vida_." -(The end of all things is only seen in the future life.) And so on _ad -infinitum_. - - [Footnote 143: "Forgive me, for the love of God, brother!"] - -No description of Seville would be complete without mention of the "patio," -so important a feature in every Andalusian house; and no words can be so -good for the purpose as those of Fernan Caballero, which we translate -almost literally from her "Familia de Alvareda:" - - "The house was spacious and scrupulously clean; on each side of the door - was a bench of stone. In the porch hung a little lamp before the image of - our Lord, in a niche over the entrance, according to the Catholic custom - of placing all things under holy protection. In the middle was the - 'patio,' a necessity to the Andalusian; and in the centre of this - spacious court, an enormous orange-tree raised its leafy head from its - robust and clean trunk. For an infinity of generations had this beautiful - tree been a source of delight to the family. The women made tonic - concoctions of its leaves, the daughters adorned themselves with its - flowers, the boys cooled their blood with its fruits, the birds made - their home in its boughs. The rooms opened out of the 'patio,' and - borrowed their light from thence. This 'patio' was the centre of all-- - the 'home,' the place of gathering when the day's work was over. The - orange-tree loaded the air with its heavy perfume, and the waters of the - fountain fell in soft showers on the marble basin, fringed with the - delicate maiden hair fern; and the father, leaning against the tree, - smoked his 'cigarro de papel;' and the mother sat at her work; while the - little ones played at her feet, the eldest resting his head on a big dog - stretched at full length on the cool marble slabs. All was still, and - peaceful, and beautiful." - ------- - -{460} - - - From Once a Week. - - Sir Ralph De Blanc-Minster. - - The Vow. - - Hush! 'tis a tale of the elder time, - Caught from an old barbaric rhyme, - How the fierce Sir Ralph of the haughty hand - Harnessed him for our Saviour's land! - - "Time trieth troth!" thus the lady said, - "And a warrior must rest in Bertha's bed; - Three years let the severing seas divide, - And strike thou for Christ and thy trusting bride!" - - So he buckled on the beamy blade, - That Gaspar of Spanish Leon made, - Whose hilted cross is the awful sign: - It must burn for the Lord and his tarnished shrine! - - - The Adieu. - - "Now a long farewell! tall Stratton tower, - Dark Bude! thy fatal sea: - And God thee speed, in hall and bower, - My manor of Bien-aimè! - - "Thou, too, farewell! my chosen bride, - Thou rose of Rou-tor land: - Though all on earth were false beside, - I trust thy plighted hand. - - "Dark seas may swell, and tempests lower, - And surging billows foam; - The cresset of thy bridal bower - Shall guide the wanderer home! - - "On! for the cross! in Jesu's land, - When Syrian armies flee, - One thought shall thrill my lifted hand, - I strike for God and thee!" - -{461} - - The Battle. - - Hark! how the brattling trumpets blare! - Lo! the red banners flaunt the air! - And see! his good sword girded on, - The stern Sir Ralph to the war is gone! - - Hurrah! for the Syrian dastards flee: - Charge! charge! ye western chivalry! - Sweet is the strife for God's renown, - The Cross is up and the Crescent down! - - The weary warrior seeks his tent: - For the good Sir Ralph is pale and spent; - Five wounds he reaped in the field of fame, - Five in his blessèd Master's name. - - The solemn leech looks sad and grim, - As he binds and soothes each gory limb; - And the girded priest must chant and pray, - Lest the soul unhouseled pass away. - - The Treachery. - - A sound of horsehoofs on the sand! - And ha! a page from Cornish land. - "Tidings," he said, as he bent the knee; - "Tidings, my lord, from Bien-aimè. - - "The owl shrieked thrice from the warder's tower: - The crown-rose withered in her bower: - Thy good gray foal, at evening fed. - Lay in the sunrise stark and dead!" - - "Dark omens three!" the sick man cried; - "Say on the woe thy looks betide." - "Master! at bold Sir Rupert's call, - Thy Lady Bertha fled the hall!" - - The Scroll. - - "Bring me," he said, "that scribe of fame, - Symeon el Siddekah his name; - With parchment skin, and pen in hand, - I would devise my Cornish land! - - "Seven goodly manors, fair and wide, - Stretch from the sea to Tamar-side, - And Bien-aimè, my hall and bower, - Nestles beneath tall Stratton tower! - -{462} - - "All these I render to my God! - By seal and signet, knife and sod: - I give and grant to church and poor, - In franc almoign for evermore! - - "Choose ye seven men among the just, - And bid them hold my lands in trust, - On Michael's morn and Mary's day - To deal the dole and watch and pray! - - "Then bear me, coldly, o'er the deep, - 'Mid my own people I would sleep: - Their hearts shall melt, their prayers will breathe, - Where he who loved them rests beneath. - - "Mould me in stone, as here I lie, - My face upturned to Syria's sky; - Carve ye this good sword at my side, - And write the legend, 'True and tried!' - - "Let mass be said, and requiem sung; - And that sweet chime I loved be rung: - Those sounds along the northern wall - Shall thrill me like a trumpet-call!" - - Thus said he and at set of sun - The bold crusader's race was run. - Seek ye his ruined hall and bower? - Then stand beneath tall Stratton tower! - - The Mort-main. - - Now the demon watched for the warrior's soul - 'Mid the din of war where blood-streams roll; - He had waited long on the dabbled sand - Ere the priest had cleansed the gory hand. - - Then as he heard the stately dole - Wherewith Sir Ralph had soothed his soul, - The unclean spirit turned away - With a baffled glare of grim dismay. - - But when he caught those words of trust, - That sevenfold choice among the just, - "Ho! ho!" cried the fiend, with a mock at heaven, - "I have lost but one I shall win the seven!" - ------- - -{463} - - Original. - - Guettée's Papacy Schismatic. [Footnote 144] - - [Footnote 144: The Papacy: Its Historic Origin and Primitive Relations - with the Eastern Churches. By the Abbé-Guettée, D.D. Translated from the - French, and prefaced by an original biographical notice of the author, - with an Introduction by A. Cleveland Coxe, Bishop of Western New York. - New York: Carleton. 1867, pp.383.] - -This volume purports to be the translation of a late French work entitled, -"The Papacy Schismatic; or, Rome in her Relations with the Eastern -Church--_La Papauté Schismatique; ou Rome dans ses Rapports avec I'Eglise -Orientate_." Why the translator or editor has changed the title we know -not, unless it has been done to disguise the real character of the work, -and induce Catholics to buy it under the impression that it is written by a -learned divine of their own communion. - -Whether equal liberty has been taken with the text throughout we are unable -to say, for we have not had the patience to compare the translation with -the original, except in a very few instances; but there is in the whole get -up of the English work a lack of honesty and frank dealing. On the -title-page we are promised an Introduction by the Protestant Episcopal -Bishop of Western New York, but in the book itself we find only the -"Editor's Preface" of a few pages. Even this preface lacks frankness, and -seems intended to deceive. "The author of this work," writes the editor, -"is not a Protestant. He is a French divine reared in the communion of -Rome, and devoted to her cause in purpose of heart and life." This gives -the impression that the author is still a member, and a devoted member, of -the communion of Rome, which is not the case. "But his great learning -having led him to conclusions contrary to those of the Jesuits, he fell -under the ban;" that is, we suppose, was interdicted. This carries on the -same deception, making believe that he was interdicted because he rejected -some of the conclusions of the Jesuits, while he remained substantially -orthodox and obedient to the church, a thing which could not have happened, -unless he had impugned the Catholic faith, the authority, or discipline of -the church in communion with the apostolic See of Rome. - -We read on: "Proscribed by the papacy, ... he accepts at last the logical -consequences of his position, ... receiving the communion in both kinds at -the hand of the Greeks in the church of the Russian Embassy at Paris." Why -not have said simply: The author of this work was reared in the communion -of Rome, but, falling under censure for opinions emitted in his writings, -he left that communion, or was cut off from it, and has now been received -into the Russian Church, or the communion of the non-united Greeks, and has -written this book to prove that the communion, that has received him is -not, and the one in which he was reared is, schismatic? That would have -told the simple truth; but we forget, the editor is a poet, and accustomed -to deal in fiction. - -The editor, who has a rare genius for embellishing the truth, tells us that -"the biographical notice prefixed to the work ... gives assurance of the -author's ability to treat the subject of the papacy with the most intimate -knowledge of its practical character." It does no such thing, but, on the -contrary, proves that he never was devoted in purpose and life to the -communion of Rome, and that even from his boyhood he assumed an attitude of -real though covert hostility to the papacy. His first work was a history of -the church in France, the plan of which was conceived and formed while he -was in the seminary, and that work is hardly less unfavorable to the papacy -than the one before us. -{464} -Its spirit is anti-Roman, anti-papal, full of venom against the popes, and -he appears to have carried on his war against the papacy under the guise of -Gallicanism, till even his Gallican bishop could tolerate him no longer, -and forbade him to say mass. - -His biographer gives a fuller insight into his character, perhaps, than he -intended. "From a very early age," he says, "his mind seems to have -revolted against the wearisome routine" of instruction prescribed for -seminarians, "and, in its ardent desire for knowledge and its rapid -acquisition, worked out of the prescribed limits ... and read and studied -in secret." That is, in plain English, he was impatient of direction in his -studies, revolted against making the necessary preparation to read and -study with advantage, rejected the prescribed course of studies, and -followed his own taste or inclination in broaching questions that he lacked -the previous knowledge and mental and spiritual discipline to broach with -safety. There are questions in great variety and of great importance which -it is very necessary to study, but only in their place, and after that very -routine of studies prescribed by the seminary has been successfully -pursued. Most of the errors into which men fall arise from the attempt to -solve questions without the necessary preparatory knowledge and discipline. -The studies and discipline of the college and the seminary may seem to -impatient and inexperienced youth wearisome and unnecessary, but they are -prescribed by wisdom and experience, and he who has never submitted to them -or had their advantage feels the want of them through his whole life, to -whatever degree of eminence he may have risen without them. It is a great -loss to any one not to have borne the yoke in his youth. - -It is clear from M. Guettée's biography that he never studied the papal -question as a friend to the papacy, and therefore he is no better able to -treat it than if he had been brought up in Anglicanism or in the bosom of -the Greek schism. He is not a man who has once firmly believed in the -primacy of the Holy See, and by his study and great learning found himself -reluctantly forced to reject it; but is one who, having fallen under the -papal censure, tries to vindicate himself by proving that the pope who -condemned him has no jurisdiction, and never received from God any -authority to judge him. He is no unsuspected witness, is no impartial -judge, for he judges in his own cause. His condemnation preceded his change -of communion. - -The editor speaks of the great learning of the author, and says "he writes -with science and precision, and with the pen of a man of genius." It may be -so, but we have not discovered it. His book we have found very dull, and it -has required all the effort we are capable of to read it through. To our -understanding it is lacking in both science and precision. It is a book of -details which are attached to no principles, and its arguments rest wholly -on loose and inaccurate statements or bold assumptions. A work more -deficient in real logic, or more glaringly sophistical, it has seldom been -our hard fortune to meet with. As for learning, we certainly are not -learned ourselves, but the author has told us nothing that we did not know -before, and nothing more than may be found in any one of our Catholic -treatises on the authority of the see of Peter and the Roman pontiff. All -his objections to the papacy worth noticing may be found with their answers -in The Primacy of the Apostolic See Vindicated, by the lamented Francis -Patrick Kenrick, late archbishop of Baltimore, a work of modest -pretensions, but of a real merit difficult to exaggerate. - -Though M. Guettée's book is far from bewildering us by its learning or -overwhelming us by its logic, we yet find it no easy matter to compress an -adequate reply to it within any reasonable compass. -{465} -It is not a scientific work. The author lays down no principles which he -labors to establish and develop, but dwells on details, detached -statements, assertions, and criticisms, which cannot be replied to -separately without extending the reply some two or three times the length -of the work itself, for an objection can be made in far fewer words than it -takes to refute it. The author writes without method, and seems never to -have dreamed of classifying his proofs, and arranging all he has to say -under appropriate heads. Indeed, he has no principles, and he adduces no -proofs; he only comments on the proofs of the papacy urged by our -theologians, and endeavors to prove that they do not mean what we say they -do, or that they may be understood in a different sense. Hence, taking -these up one after another, he is constantly saying the same things over -and over again, with most tiresome repetition, which require an equally -tiresome repetition in reply. Had the author taken the time, if he had the -ability, to reduce his objections to order, and to their real value, a few -pages would have sufficed both to state and to refute them. As it is, we -can only do the best we can within the limited space at our command. - -The author professes to write from the point of view of a non-united Greek, -who has little quarrel with Rome, save on the single question of the -papacy. He concedes in some sense the primacy of Peter, and that the bishop -of Rome is the first bishop of the church, nay, that by ecclesiastical -right he has the primacy of jurisdiction, though not universal -jurisdiction; but denies that the Roman pontiff has the sovereignty of the -universal church by _divine right_. He says his study of the subject -has brought him to these conclusions: - - "1. The bishop of Rome did not for eight centuries possess the authority - of divine right that he has since sought to exercise; - - 2. The pretension of the bishop of Rome to the sovereignty of divine - right over the whole church was the real cause of the division," or - schism between the East and the West. (P. 31.) - -These very propositions in the original, to say nothing of the translation, -show great lack of precision in the writer. He would have better expressed -his own meaning if he had said: The bishop of Rome did not for eight -centuries hold by divine right the authority he has since claimed, and the -pretension of the bishop of Rome to the sovereignty of the whole church by -divine right has been the real cause of the schism. We shall soon object to -this word _sovereignty_, but for the moment let it pass. - -These two propositions the author undertakes to prove, and he attempts to -prove them by showing or asserting that the proofs which our theologians -allege from the Holy Scriptures, the fathers, and the councils, do not -prove the primacy claimed by the bishop of Rome. This, if done, would be to -the purpose if the question turned on admitting the claims of the Roman -pontiff, but by no means when the question turns on rejecting these claims -and ousting the pope from his possession. The author must go further. It is -not enough to show that our evidences of title are insufficient; he must -disprove the title itself, either by proving that no such title ever -issued, or that it vests in an adverse claimant. This, as we shall see, he -utterly fails to do. He sets up, properly speaking, no adverse claimant, -and fails to prove that no such title ever issued. - -It suffices us, in reply, to plead possession. The pope is, and long has -been, in possession by the acknowledgment of both East and West, and it is -for the author to show reasons why he should be ousted, and, if those -reasons do not necessarily invalidate his possessions, the pope is not -obliged to show his titles. All he need reply is, _Olim possideo_. - -That the pope is in possession of all he claims is evident not only from -the fact that he has from the earliest times exercised the primacy of -jurisdiction claimed for him, but from the council of Florence held in 1439. -{466} -"We define," say the fathers of the council, "that the holy apostolic see -and the Roman pontiff hold the primacy in all the world, and that the Roman -pontiff is the successor of blessed Peter, prince of the apostles and true -vicar of Christ, and head of the whole church, the father and teacher of -all Christians, and that to him is given in blessed Peter, by our Lord -Jesus Christ, full power to feed, direct, and govern the universal church; -_et ipsi B. Petro pascendi, regendi, et gubernandi plenam potestatem -traditam esse._" - -This definition was made by the universal church, for it was subscribed by -the bishops of both the East and the West, and among the bishops of the -East that accepted it were the patriarchs of Constantinople and Alexandria, -and the metropolitans of Russia, with those of Nicaea, Trebizond, -Lacedaemon, and Mytilene. We know very well that the non-united Greeks -reject this council, although the Eastern Church was more fully represented -in it than the Western Church was in that at Nicaea, the first of -Constantinople, Ephesus, or Chalcedon; but it is for the non united Greeks -to prove that, in rejecting it and refusing obedience to its decrees, they -are not schismatic. At any rate, the council is sufficient to prove that -the pope is in possession by the judgment of both East and West, and to -throw the burden of proof on those who deny the papal authority and assert -that the papacy is schismatic. - -Before producing his proofs, the author examines the Holy Scriptures to -ascertain "whether the pretensions of the bishop of Rome to a universal -sovereignty of the church have, as is alleged, any ground in the word of -God." (P. 31.) The translation here is inexact; it should be: "Whether the -pretensions, etc., to _the_ universal sovereignty of the church have, -as is alleged, _their_ foundation in the word of God." The author -himself would have expressed himself better if he had written "the -sovereignty of the universal church," instead of "universal sovereignty of -the church." But the author mistakes the real question he has to consider. -The real question for him is not whether the primacy we assert for the -Roman pontiff has its ground in the written word, but whether anything in -the written word denies or contradicts it. The primacy may exist as a fact, -and yet no record of it be made in the Scriptures. The constitution of the -church is older than any portion of the New Testament, and it is very -conceivable that, as the church must know her own constitution, it was not -thought necessary to give an account of it in the written word. The church -holds the written word, but does not hold from it or under it, but from the -direct and immediate appointment of Jesus Christ himself, and is -inconceivable without her constitution. - -The author makes another mistake, in using the word _sovereignty_ -instead of _primacy_. Roman theologians assert the primacy, but not, -in the ecclesiastical order, the _sovereignty_ of the Roman pontiff. -Sovereignty is a political, not an ecclesiastical term; it is, moreover, -exclusive, and it is not pretended that there is no authority in the church -by divine right but that of the Roman pontiff. It is not pretended that -bishops are simply his vicars or deputies. In feudal times there may have -been writers who regarded him as suzerain, but we know of none that held -him to be sovereign. He is indeed by some writers, chiefly French, called -_sovereign_ pontiff, but only in the sense of _supreme_ pontiff, -Pontifex maximus, or summus pontifex, to indicate that he is the highest -but not the exclusive authority in the church. The council of Florence, on -which we plant ourselves, defines him to be primate, not sovereign, and -ascribes to him plenary authority to feed, direct, and govern the whole -church, but does not exclude other and subordinate pontiffs, who, though -they receive their sees from him, yet within them govern by a divine right -no less immediate than his. The real and only sovereign of the church, in -the proper sense of the term, is Jesus Christ himself. -{467} -The pope is his vicar, and as much bound by his law as the humblest -Christian. He is not above the law, nor is he its source, but is its chief -minister and supreme judge, and his legislative power is restricted to such -rescripts, edicts, or canons as he judges necessary to its proper -administration. The sovereign makes the law, and the difference, therefore, -between the power of the sovereign and that claimed for the Roman pontiff -is very obvious and very great. Could the author, then, prove from the -written word that the pope or the Holy See is not the universal sovereign -of the church, he would prove nothing to his purpose. Yet this, as we shall -see, is all he does prove. - -The author pretends, p. 32, that the papal authority, sovereignty he means, -is condemned by the word of God. The assertion, understanding the papal -authority as defined by the council of Florence, is to his purpose, if he -proves it. What, then, are his proofs? The Roman theologians, that is, -Catholic theologians, say the church is founded on Peter, and cite in proof -the words of our Lord, St. Matt. xvi. 18: "I say unto thee that thou art -Peter, and upon this rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell -shall not prevail against it." But this does not prove that Peter is the -rock on which the church is founded. The church is not founded on Peter, -or, if on Peter, in no other sense than it is on him and the other -apostles. The rock on which the church is built is Jesus Christ, who is the -only foundation of the church. St. Paul says, 1 Cor. iii. 11: "Other -foundation can no man lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ -himself." - -That Jesus Christ is the sole foundation of the church in the primary and -absolute sense, nobody denies or questions, and we have asserted it in -asserting that he is the real and only sovereign of the church; but this -does not exclude Peter from being its foundation in a secondary and -vicarial sense, the only sense asserted by the most thorough-going papists, -as is evident from what St. Paul writes to the Ephesians, ii. 20, as cited -by the author: "You are built on the foundation of the apostles and -prophets, Jesus Christ being himself the chief cornerstone." The principal, -primary, absolute foundation is Christ, but the prophets and apostles are -also the foundation on which the church, the mystic temple, is built. The -author says, same page: "The prophets and apostles form the first layers of -this mystic edifice. The faithful are raised on these _foundations_, -and form the edifice itself; finally, Jesus Christ is the principal stone, -the corner-stone, which gives solidity to the monument." This is very true, -and we maintain, as well as he, that there is "no other foundation" in the -primary sense, "no other principal corner-stone than Jesus Christ;" but he -himself asserts, as does St. Paul, other "foundation" in a secondary sense. -So, though our Lord is the principal or first foundation in the sense in -which God is the first cause of all creatures and their acts, yet nothing -hinders Peter from being a secondary foundation, as creatures may be and -are what philosophers terms second causes. - -But in this secondary sense, "all the apostles are the foundation, and the -church is no more founded on Peter than on the rest of the apostles." Not -founded on Peter to the exclusion of the other apostles certainly, but not -founded on Peter as the prince of the apostles, or chief of the apostolic -college, does not appear, and it is never pretended that Peter excludes the -other apostles. Our Lord gave, indeed, to Peter alone the keys of the -kingdom of heaven, thereby constituting him his steward or the chief of his -household; but he gave to all authority to teach all nations all things -whatsoever he had commanded them, the same power of binding and loosing -that he had given to Peter, and promised to be with them as well as with -him all days to the consummation of the world. There is in this nothing -that excludes or denies the primacy claimed for Peter, or that implies that -our Lord, as the author says, merely "gave to Peter an important ministry -in his church." - -{468} - -The author labors to refute the argument drawn in favor of the primacy of -Peter from the command of our Lord to Peter to "confirm his brethren," and -the thrice repeated command to "feed his sheep;" but as we are not now -seeking to prove the primacy, but simply repelling the arguments adduced -against it, we pass it over. He attempts to construct an argument against -the primacy of Peter from the words of our Lord to his disciples, St. Matt, -xxiii. 8: "Be ye not called Rabbi; for one is your Master, and all you are -brethren. And call none your father on earth; for one is your Father, who -is in heaven. Neither be ye called masters; for one is your master, Christ. -He that is greatest among you shall be your servant." "Christ, therefore," -p. 48, "forbade the apostles to take, in relation to one another, the -titles of master, doctor, or even father, or pope, which is the same -thing." Why, then, does the author take the title of _Abbé_, which -means father, or suffer his editor to give him the title of Doctor of -Divinity? His non-united Greek friends also come in for his censure; for -they call their simple priests _papas_ or popes, that is, fathers; -nay, if he construes the words of our Lord strictly, he must deny all -ecclesiastical authority, and, indeed, all human government, and even -forbid the son to call his sire father. This would prove a little too much -for him as well as for us. - -The key to the meaning of our Lord is not difficult to discover. He -commands his disciples not to call any one master, teacher, or father, that -is, not to recognize as binding on them any authority that does not come -from God, and to remember that they are all brethren, and must obey God -rather than men. God alone is sovereign, and we are bound to obey him, and -no one else; for, in obeying our prelates whom the Holy Ghost has set over -us, it is him and him only, that we obey. He commands his disciples to -suffer no man to call them masters: for their authority to teach or govern -comes not from them, but from their Master who is in heaven, and therefore -they are not to lord it over their brethren, but to govern only so as to -serve them. "Let him that is greatest among you be your servant." Power is -not for him who governs, but for them who are governed, and he is greatest -who best serves his brethren. The pope, in reference to the admonition of -our Lord, and from the humility with which all power given to men should be -held and exercised, calls himself "servant of servants." The words so -understood--and they _may_ be so understood--convey no prohibition of -the authority claimed for the Roman pontiff as the vicar of Christ, and -father and teacher of all Christians, by divine authority, not by his own -personal right. - -Here is all the author adduces from the Scriptures, that amounts to any -thing, to prove "that the papal authority" is "condemned by the word of -God," and nothing in all this condemns it in the sense defined by the -council of Florence, which is all we have to show. - -From the Scriptures the author passes to tradition, and first to "the views -of the papal authority taken by the fathers of the first three centuries." -He does not deny that our Lord treated Peter with great personal -consideration, and thinks Peter may be regarded in relation to the other -apostles as _primus inter pares_, the first among equals, but without -jurisdiction; and he says, p. 48, "We can affirm that no father of the -church has seen in the primacy of Peter any title to jurisdiction or -absolute authority in the church." But the first father he finds who, as he -pretends, absolutely denies the primacy Catholics claim for Peter, and -consequently for his successor, is St. Cyprian, who seems to us very -positively to affirm it. - -{469} - -The author has a theory, which he pretends is supported by St. Cyprian, and -which explains all the facts in the early ages which have been supposed by -Roman theologians to be favorable to their doctrine of the papacy. He does -not bring it out very clearly or systematically, and we can collect it only -from scattered assertions. He denies that Peter had any authority not -shared equally by the other apostles; or that the bishop of Rome had or has -by divine right any pre-eminence above any other bishop; or that the church -of Rome has any authority not possessed equally by the other churches that -had apostles for their founders. He concedes that Peter and Paul founded -the church of Rome, but denies that St. Peter was ever its bishop or bishop -of any other particular see. How, then, explain the many passages of the -fathers of the first three centuries, which undeniably assert Peter as "the -prince of the apostles," "the chief of the apostolic college," the -superiority and authority of "the see of Peter," "the chair of Peter." and -recognize the jurisdiction actually exercised in all parts of the church by -the bishop of Rome? No man can read the early fathers, and deny that the -church of Rome was regarded as the church that "presides," as St. Ignatius -calls it, as the root and matrix, as St. Cyprian says, of the church, as -holding the pre-eminence over all other churches, with whose bishop it was -necessary that all others should agree or be in communion. The author does -not deny it; but Peter meant "the faith of Peter," "the chair of Peter -meant the entire episcopate," which was one and held by all the bishops -_in solido_, and the pre-eminence ascribed to the church of Rome was -in consequence of her exterior importance as the see of the capital of the -empire. This is the author's theory, and he pretends that he finds it in -the Treatise on the Unity of the Church, by St. Cyprian. - -"In fact," he says, p. 79, "he (St. Cyprian) positively denies the primacy -of St. Peter himself; he makes the apostle merely the type of unity which -resided in the apostolic college as a whole, and by succession in the whole -episcopal body, which he calls the See of Peter." "After mentioning the -powers promised to St. Peter, St. Cyprian remarks that Jesus Christ -promised them to him alone, though they were _given to all_. 'In order -to show forth unity,' he says, 'the Lord has wished that unity might draw -its origin from one only.' 'The other apostles certainly were just what -Peter was, having the same honor and power as he.' 'All are shepherds, and -the flock nourished by all the apostles together is one, in order that the -church of Christ may appear in its unity.'" - -But to this explanation of St. Cyprian there is a slight objection; for we -are not able to see from this how the unity of the apostolic college or of -the church of Christ is shown forth, manifested, or made to appear, that -is, rendered visible, which is the sense of St. Cyprian, or how it can be -said to draw the origin of unity from one when it only draws its origin -from many conjointly. St. Cyprian says our Lord, "ut unitatem manifestaret, -unam cathedram constituit, unitatis ejusdem originem ab uno incipientem sua -auctoritate disposuit;" that is, that our Lord established by his authority -one chair, made the origin of unity begin from one, that the unity of the -body might be manifested or shown forth. St. Cyprian evidently teaches that -the unity of the church derives, as the author holds, from the unity of the -episcopate, and the unity of the episcopate from the unity of the apostolic -college; but that the unity of the apostolic college or apostolate may be -manifested, and hence the unity of the church be shown forth, or rendered -visible, our Lord made its origin begin from one, that is, Peter. All the -apostles, indeed, had what Peter had, that is, the apostolate, partook of -the same gift, honor, and power; but the beginning proceeded from unity, -and the primacy was given to Peter, that the church of Christ and the -chair, the apostolate, by succession the episcopal body, if you will, may -be shown to be one. -{470} -All are pastors, and the flock, which is fed by all the apostles in -unanimity, is shown to be one, that the unity of the church of Christ may -be demonstrated. "Hoc erant utique et caeteri apostoli quod fuit Petrus, -pari consortio praediti et honoris et potestatis, sed exordium ab unitate -profiscatur; et _primatus Petro datur_, ut una Christi ecclesia et -cathedra una monstretur. Et pastores sunt omnes, et grex unus ostenditur, -qui ab apostolis omnbus [omnibus?] unanimi consensione pascatur, ut -ecclesia Christi, una monstretur." [Footnote 145] - - [Footnote 145: Opp. Cypriani, Migne's Edition, De Unitate Ecclesiae, - pp. 498-500. The words primatus Petro datur, are wanting in some - manuscripts, and are rejected by Baluze and some others as an - interpolation, and Archbishop Kenrick does not cite them in his - Primacy, when they would have been much to his purpose. It is thought - that they were originally a marginal note, and have crept into the text - through some ignorant copyist; but it is just as easy to suppose that - they were omitted from the text by some careless copyist, and placed in - the margin by way of correction, and afterward restored to their proper - place in the text. When several years ago we examined the question with - what ability we possess, we came to the conclusion that they are - genuine, or, at least, that there is no sufficient reason for regarding - them as spurious. They express what is obviously the sense of St. - Cyprian, and seem to us to be necessary to carry on and complete his - argument. Nevertheless, we have made none of our reasoning against M. - Guettée rest on their genuineness.] - -St. Cyprian endeavors to show not simply that the church is one and the -episcopate also one, but that our Lord has so arranged it that the unity of -each may be made to appear and both be seen to be one. The unity of the -apostles, of the pastors, or of the church, regarded as a collective body, -is invisible. How, then, if it does not arise from one, or if it has no -visible centre and beginning in the visible order, is it to be made to -appear? St. Cyprian evidently holds that the unity of the apostolic body -establishes the unity of the episcopal body, since he holds the bishops to -be the successors of the apostles; and the unity of the episcopal body -establishes the unity of the flock, which in union with the body each -pastor feeds, and therefore the unity of the entire church of Christ. But -he just as evidently holds that the apostolic unity in order to exist must -begin from a central point, or have its centre and source whence it -proceeds, and radiates, so to speak, through the whole apostolic body, -making of the apostolate not an aggregation, but a body really one, with -its own central source of life and authority; an organic and not simply an -organized body, for an organized body has no real unity. Hence, he makes -the unity start and radiate from one, as it must if unity at all. This one, -this central point, he holds, is, by the ordination of the Lord, Peter. Of -this there can be no doubt. - -As we understand St. Cyprian, whose treatise on the Unity of the Church is, -perhaps, the profoundest and most philosophical ever written on that -subject, the church is an organism with Jesus Christ himself for its -invisible and ultimate centre and source of life. But as the church is to -deal with the world and operate in time and space, it must be visible as -well as invisible. Then the invisible must be visibly expressed or -represented. But this cannot be done unless there is a visible expression -or representation in the exterior organic body of this interior and -invisible centre and source of unity, life, and authority, which our Lord -himself is. To establish this exterior or visible representation, our Lord -institutes the apostolic college and through that the episcopal body, -through whom the whole flock becomes in union with their pastors, who are, -in union with the apostles, one organic body; but only on condition of the -unity of the apostolic college which unity must start from one, from a -visible centre and source of unity. Hence, our Lord chose Peter as the -central point of union for the apostolic college, and Peter's chair, the -"una cathedra," as the visible centre of union for the episcopal body, and -through them of the whole church, so that the whole church in the -apostolate, in the episcopate, and in the flock is shown to be one, -represented with the unity and authority it has in Jesus Christ. - -{471} - -The trouble here with the author's theory is, not that it makes Peter the -sign and type of the unity or authority of the apostolic college, and the -chair of Peter the type and figure, as he says, of the unity and authority -of the episcopate, but that it does not do so; for it recognizes no visible -apostolic or episcopal unity, since it recognizes no visible centre or -source from which it originates; and hence neither the apostolate nor the -episcopate, save as Jesus Christ, is a unity, but an aggregation, as we -have said, a collection, or at least, a sort of round robin. By denying the -primacy or centre and beginning of unity to Peter and Peter's chair -individually, it denies what St. Cyprian maintains was instituted to -manifest or show forth unity. It denies both the manifestation of unity and -external unity itself, both of which are strenuously insisted on by St. -Cyprian, who, indeed, says expressly in his letter to St. Cornelius, the -Roman pontiff, that "the Church of Rome," that is, "the chair of Peter," is -the centre whence sacerdotal unity arose. - -The author says, p. 67, that "St. Cyprian was right in calling the Church -of Rome the chair of Peter, the _principal_ church, whence sacerdotal -unity emanated. But for all that, did he pretend that the bishop enjoyed -authority by divine right? He believed it so little that, in his De Unitate -Ecclesiae, he understands by the chair of Peter the entire episcopate, -regards St. Peter as the equal of the other apostles, denies his primacy, -and makes him the simple type of the unity of the apostolic college." The -Church of Rome "was the source of sacerdotal unity in this sense, that -Peter was the sign and type of the unity of the apostolic college." St. -Cyprian makes St. Peter, p. 79, "merely the type of the unity that resided -in the apostolic college as a whole, and, by succession, in the episcopal -body, which he calls "the see of Peter." "The see of Peter, in St. -Cyprian's idea, is the authority of the apostolic body, and, by succession, -of the episcopal body. All the bishops had the same honor and the same -authority in all that relates to their order, as all the apostles had the -same honor and authority as Peter." (Pp. 79, 80.) - -Peter, then, is the sign and type of apostolic and episcopal unity, and -"the chair of Peter," or "the see of Peter," is the sign and type of -apostolic authority. But supposing this to be so, and Peter to have been in -no respect distinguished from the other apostles, or to have held no -peculiar position in the apostolic body, how came he to be regarded as the -sign and type of apostolic unity, and his chair as the sign and type of -apostolic authority? There is a logic in language as well as in the human -mind of which it is the expression, and there is a reason for every -symbolical locution that gains currency. If the fathers and the church had -not held Peter to be the prince of the apostles and his see the centre and -source of apostolic authority, would they or could they have made his see -or chair the symbol of apostolic authority, or Peter himself the symbol, -"the sign and type," of apostolic unity? Why the see of Peter rather than -that of Andrew, James, or John? or Peter rather than any other apostle? The -fact, then, that St. Peter and his see or chair were taken as symbolic, the -sign and type, the one of apostolic unity, and the other of apostolic -authority, is a very conclusive proof that the primacy was given to him and -his see by our Lord, and by succession to the holy apostolic see and the -Roman pontiff, as the fathers of Florence define and Roman theologians -hold. - -Again, how could Peter be a sign and type of apostolic unity or his see the -sign and type of apostolic authority, if he, Peter, had no relation, and -his see none, to that authority not held equally by all the apostles and -their sees? In the church of God there are and can be no shams, no -make-believes, no false signs or types, no unrealities, no calling things -which are not as if they were. Signs which signify nothing are not signs, -and types which represent nothing are simply no types at all. The real -apostolic unity and authority are internal, invisible in Jesus Christ -himself, who, in the primary and absolute sense, as we have seen, is the -rock on which the church is founded, the sole basis of its solidity and -permanence, the sole ground of its existence and fountain of its life, -unity, and authority. -{472} -Peter and Peter's see, if the sign and type of this invisible unity, must -represent it or show it forth in the visible order. But how can Peter -represent that unity, unless he is in the visible order its real centre and -source, in which it begins and from which it emanates? Or how can the see -or chair of Peter be the sign and type of the invisible apostolic -authority, unless it really be its source and centre in the visible order? -The external can represent the internal, the visible the invisible, only in -so far as it copies or imitates it. In calling Peter the sign and type of -apostolic unity, the author then concedes that Peter represents our Lord, -and that he is, as the council of Florence defines, "the true vicar of -Christ;" and in making Peter's see the sign and type of apostolic -authority, he makes it the real centre in the visible order of that -authority, and consequently concedes the very points which he rejects, and -undertakes to prove from St. Cyprian are only the unfounded pretensions of -the bishop of Rome. - -That the primacy here unwittingly conceded by the author is not that -absolute and isolated sovereignty which the author accuses Catholic -theologians of asserting for Peter and for the bishop of Rome as his -successor, we readily admit, but we have already shown that such a -sovereignty is not claimed. The pope is not the sovereign, but the vicar or -chief minister of the sovereign. He governs the church in apostolic unity, -not as isolated from the episcopal body, but as its real head or supreme -chief. His authority is said to be _loquens ex cathedra_, speaking -from the seat of apostolic and episcopal unity and authority. He is the -chief or supreme pastor, not the only pastor, nor pastor at all regarded as -separate from the church. He is the visible head of the church united by a -living union with the body; for it is as necessary to the head to be in -living union with the body, as it is to the body to be in living union with -the head. Neither can live and perform its functions without the other; but -the directing, controlling, or governing power is in the head. St. Ambrose -says, "Where Peter is, there is the church;" but he does not say Peter is -the church, nor does the pope say, "L'Eglise, c'est moi," I am the church. -Succeeding to Peter as chief of the apostolic college, he is the chief or -head of the church. The author's theory makes the church in the visible -order as a whole, acephalous, headless, and therefore brainless. - -The author bases his assertion that St. Cyprian denies the primacy of Peter -on the fact that he says, "All the other apostles had what he had, the same -honor and the same power." This is with Mr. Guettée a capital point. His -doctrine, so far as doctrine he has, is that the church has no visible -chief; that all the apostles had equal honor and authority; that all -bishops as successors of the apostles are equal; that one bishop has by -divine right no pre-eminence above another; and that, if one is more -influential than another, he owes it to his personal character or to the -external importance of his see. And this he contends is the doctrine of St. -Cyprian. But, if he had understood St. Cyprian's argument, he would have -never done that great saint such flagrant injustice. St. Cyprian's argument -is, as is evident from the passage we have cited at length, that, although -all the apostles received the same gift, the same honor, and the same -power, yet, for the sake of manifesting unity, our Lord constituted one -chair from which unity should begin, and gave the primacy to Peter, that -the unity of the apostolic or episcopal body and of the whole church of -Christ might be shown. The author himself contends that the apostolate, and -by succession the episcopate, is one and indivisible, and held by the -apostles or bishops _in solido_. -{473} -Then, if all the other apostles had the apostolate, they must have had -precisely what Peter had, and if the other bishops have the episcopate at -all, they must have precisely what the Roman pontiff has, yet without -having another apostolate or another episcopate than that which they all -equally receive and hold in its invisible unity, or anything in addition -thereto. He may, nevertheless, be the head or chief of the episcopal body -and the centre in which episcopal unity and authority in the visible order -originate, and from which they radiate through the body, and from the -bishops to their respective flocks, and bind them and the whole church -together in one, which, as we understand it, is the precise doctrine of St. -Cyprian, and certainly is the doctrine of the Roman and Catholic Church. - -The author, even if a learned man, does not appear to be much of a -philosopher or much of a theologian. There are depths in St. Cyprian's -philosophy and theology which he seems unable to sound, and heights which -are certainly above his flight. He is, we should judge, utterly unaware of -the real constitution of the church, the profound significance of the -gospel, the vast reach of the Christian system, its relation to the -universal system of creation, or the reasons in the very nature of things -there are for its existence, and for the existence and constitution of the -church. All the works of the Creator are strictly logical, and together -form but one dialectic whole, are but the expression of one divine Thought. -Nothing can appear more petty or worthless than the author's shallow cavils -to a man who has a little real theological science. - -The author cites the controversy on the baptism of heretics, in proof that -St. Cyprian denied the jurisdiction of the bishop of Rome, or his authority -to govern as supreme pontiff the whole church, but unsuccessfully. St. -Cyprian found the custom established in Carthage, as it was also in certain -churches in Asia, to rebaptize persons who had been baptized by heretics, -and he insisted on observing the custom. He complained, therefore, of St. -Stephen, the Roman pontiff, who wrote to him to conform to the ancient and -general custom of the church. Whether he conformed or not is uncertain, but -there is no evidence that he denied the authority of the Roman pontiff, and -he certainly did not break communion with him, though he may have regarded -his exercise of his authority in that particular case as oppressive and -tyranical. It would seem from the letter of St. Firmilianus to St. Cyprian, -if genuine, of which there is some doubt, as there is of several letters -ascribed to Cyprian, and from the address of St. Cyprian to the last -council he held on the subject, which Mr. Guettée cites at some length, -that the question was regarded as one of discipline, or as coming within -the category of those matters on which diversity of usage in different -churches and countries is allowable or can be tolerated, and on which -uniformity has never been exacted. He insisted not that all the world -should conform to the custom he observed, but defended, as our bishops -would to-day, what he believed to be the customary rights of his church or -province. That he was wrong we know, for the universal church has sustained -the Roman pontiff. - -We do not think the author has been very happy in placing St. Cyprian on -the stand against the primacy of the holy apostolic see and the Roman -pontiff. The saint is a much better witness for us than for him. - -The author, unable to deny the preponderating influence of the Roman -pontiff and his see in the government of the church, and the importance -everywhere attached to being in communion with the bishop of Rome, seeks to -evade the force of the fact by attributing it not to the belief in the -primacy of the Church of Rome, but to the superior importance of the city -of Rome as the capital of the empire, as if the Catholic Church were merely -a Roman Church, and not founded for the whole world. -{474} -We, indeed hear something of this when Constantinople, the New Rome, became -the rival of Old Rome, and its bishop, on account of the civil and -political importance of the city, set up to be oecumenical bishop, and -claimed the first place after the bishop of Rome; but we hear nothing of it -during the first three centuries, and the author adduces nothing to justify -his assumption. All the fathers, alike in the East and the West, attribute -the primacy held by the Church of Rome not to the importance of the city of -Rome in the empire, but to the fact that she is "the church that presides," -is "the principal" or governing "church," is "the see of Peter," holds the -chair of Peter, "prince of the apostles," is "the root and matrix of the -Catholic Church," and that Peter "lives" and "speaks" in its bishops. Now, -whatever our learned author may say, we think these great fathers, some of -whom were only one remove from the apostles themselves, and nearly all of -whom gained the crown of martyrdom, knew the facts in the case as well as -he knows them, and that there is every probability that they meant what -they said and wrote. - -"We see," says the author, p. 48, "that as early as the third century the -bishops of Rome, because St. Peter had been one of the founders of that -see, claimed to exercise a certain authority over the rest of the church, -giving themselves sometimes the title of 'bishop of bishops'; but we also -see that the whole church protested against these ambitious pretensions, -and held them of no account." That the bishop of Rome was accused by those -whom the exercise of his authority offended of assuming the title of bishop -of bishops, by way of a sneer, may be very true, but that he ever gave -himself that title, there is, so far as we are aware, no trustworthy -evidence. - -"The church protested against these ambitious pretensions." Where is that -protest recorded? That bishops were then as now jealous of their real or -supposed rights, and ever well disposed to resist any encroachment upon -them, is by no means improbable; and this, if the bishops generally held -that the Roman pontiff had no more authority by divine right over the -church than any other bishop, must have made it exceedingly difficult for -him to grasp the primacy of jurisdiction over them. Their power to resist, -in case they believed they could resist with a good conscience, must have -been, being, as they were in the fourth century, eighteen hundred to one, -somewhat greater than his to encroach. That the bishops or simple priests -whom the Roman pontiff admonished or censured protested sometimes, not -against his authority, but against what they regarded as its unjust, -arbitrary, or tyrannical exercise, is no doubt true, and the same thing -happens still, even with those who have no doubt of the papal authority; -but that the whole church protested is not proven; and in all the instances -in which protests were offered on the part of individual bishops that came -before an ecclesiastical council, the universal church uniformly sustained -the Roman pontiff. When St. Victor excommunicated the Quartodecimans, some -bishops remonstrated with him as being too severe, and others opposed his -act, but the council of Nicaea sustained it. Even before that council, the -author of the Philosophumena, whose work must have been composed in the -early part of the third century, treats the Quartodecimans as heretics, -although, except as to the time of keeping Easter, their faith was -irreproachable. So on the question of the baptism of heretics, the whole -church, instead of protesting against the decision of St. Stephen, approved -it, and follows it to this day. It will not do to say the whole church -treated the acts of these popes "as of no account." - -The writers of the letters attributed to St. Cyprian and Firmilianus are -good evidence that the popes claimed and exercised jurisdiction over the -whole church in the controversy on the baptism of heretics, and Tertullian -affords no mean proof of the same fact at a yet earlier date. -{475} -In a work written after he had fallen into some of the heresies of the -Montanists, he writes, as cited by our author, p. 78, "I learn that a new -edict has been given, a peremptory edict. The sovereign pontiff, that is, -the bishop of bishops, has said: 'I remit the sins of impurity and -fornication.' O edict! not less can be done than to ticket it--GOOD WORK! -But where shall such an edict be posted? Surely, I think, upon the doors of -the houses of prostitution." This passage undoubtedly proves that -Tertullian himself, fallen into heresy, did not relish the papal decision -that condemned him, and perhaps that he was disposed to deny the authority -of the Roman pontiff; but if it had been generally held that the Roman -pontiff was no more in the church than any other bishop, and therefore that -his decision could have no authority out of his diocese or province, would -his decision have so deeply moved him, and called forth such an outburst of -wrath? If the claim to the primacy of authority in the whole church, and -therefore to jurisdiction over all bishops, was not generally recognized -and held, what occasion was there for so much indignation? What point would -there have been in the sneer, or force in the irony, of calling him the -sovereign pontiff, or the bishop of bishops? Tertullian's language, which -was evidently intended to exaggerate the authority claimed by the Roman -pontiff, plainly enough implies that he was generally held to have -authority to make decisions in doctrine and discipline for the whole -church, and that a censure from him was something of far more importance -than that from any other bishop or patriarch. - -The author cites to the same effect as Tertullian the work published at -Paris a few years ago under the name of Origin, entitled Philosophumena, -"justly attributed," he says, "to St. Hyppolytus, Bishop of Ostia, or to -the learned priest Caius." The authorship of the work is unknown, and no -documents have yet been discovered that enable the learned to determine -with any degree of certainty by whom it was or could have been written. The -work, however, bears internal evidence of having been written by some one -belonging to the East, and who lived during the pontificates of St. Victor, -St. Zephyrinus, St. Callistus, St. Urban, and perhaps St. Pontian, bishops -of Rome, that is to say, from 180 to 235, certainly not later. The work, -when published by M. Miller at Paris, in 1851, attracted the attention of -English and German Protestants by its gross charges against the two -venerated Roman pontiffs and martyrs, St. Zephyrinus and St. -Callistus--charges which for the most part refute themselves. But though -Protestants have not been able to make much of it against the papacy, -Catholics have found in it new and unexpected proofs of the authority -extending over the church in all parts of the world, exercised by the popes -of that early period. "In his invectives," says the Abbé Cruice, "the -adversary of Callistus acknowledges his great power, and furnishes new and -unexpected proofs of the supremacy of the holy see." The Abbé Cruice, who, -we think, we have heard recently died Bishop of Marseilles, published at -Paris, in 1851, an interesting History of the Church of Rome under the -pontificates of St. Victor, St. Zephyrinus, and St. Callistus, in which he -has incorporated these proofs with great judgment and effect. As we are not -now considering the affirmative proofs of the primacy of the Holy See, but -the arguments intended to prove the papacy schismatic, we can only refer -the reader to this learned work and to the Philosophumena itself. We will -only remark that the unknown author is far more bitter against the popes -than his contemporary Tertullian, and leaves more unequivocal evidence to -the extent of the papal power. No one can read the Philosophumena without -perceiving in the complaints and incidental remarks of the author that the -hierarchy at the end of the second century was as regularly organized as -now, and precisely in the same manner, with the Roman pontiff at its -summit. - -{476} - -The author, p. 82, says Tertullian, who in several passages refers to the -Church of Rome as a witness to the apostolic tradition, "does not esteem -her witness testimony superior to that of others." Perhaps so, for in the -cases referred to Tertullian had no occasion to discriminate between one -apostolic church and another. He is using against heretics the argument -from prescription. Their doctrines are adverse to the apostolic tradition, -and therefore false. If any one would know what is the apostolic tradition, -he may learn it from any of the churches founded by apostles "where their -sees still remain, where their epistles are still read, where their voice -still resounds, and their face, as it were, is still seen. Is it Achaia -that is near thee? thou hast Corinth; if thou art not far from Macedonia, -thou hast the Philippians; if thou canst go to Asia, thou hast Ephesus; if -thou dwellest near Italy, thou hast Rome, whose authority is near us," that -is, near us in Africa. It is true Tertullian pronounces a eulogium on the -Church of Rome that he does not on the others, but no great stress need be -laid on that. Any one of the apostolic churches was sufficient for -determining the apostolic tradition, and there was no reason why he should -mention the primacy of the see of Peter if he held it, and it would have -weakened his argument if he had appealed to that primacy, doubtless then as -now rejected by heretics. - -But this leads us to a remark which it may be well to bear in mind. All the -churches founded by the apostles were during the whole of the first three -centuries in existence, and preserved the apostolic doctrine or tradition, -and it could be learned from Alexandria, Antioch, Jerusalem, Ephesus, etc., -without the necessity, at least on ordinary occasions, of recurring to the -supreme authority of Rome. The author quotes several of the fathers who -call the see of Antioch Peter's see; he might have gone further, and shown -that each of the four great patriarchal sees, Rome, Alexandria, Antioch, -and Jerusalem, were so-called, and because they were held to have been -founded by Peter. This is the reason why they received the dignity and -authority of patriarchal churches. Peter was held to survive and govern in -each one of them, but more especially in Rome, where he gave his life for -his faith, and where stands his tomb. It is Peter who governs one and -indivisible in them all, and consequently, to get Peter's authority, it was -not, except in the last resort, necessary to apply to his successor in the -see of Rome. It is this fact, misapprehended by the author, that has made -him assert that the see of Peter, or the chair of Peter, means the -universal episcopate which all the bishops, as St. Cyprian says, hold _in -solido_. Every bishop in communion with Peter's see, no doubt, was -regarded as _solidaire_ with the whole episcopal and apostolic body, -as we have already explained; but we have not found the "see of Peter," or -"chair of Peter" applied to any particular churches, except those tradition -asserted were founded by Peter, and only those sees had originally -patriarchal jurisdiction, and this fact is in itself no slight proof that -the primacy was held to be vested in Peter as we have already explained, -and the author has given us the opportunity of proving from St. Cyprian. - -This fact that Peter was held to govern in the four great patriarchal sees, -though supremely only in the Church of Rome, explains why it is that in the -early ages we find not more frequent instances of the exercise of -jurisdiction beyond his own patriarchate of the West by the Roman pontiff. -The bishops of these Petrine churches were not originally called -patriarchs, but they exercised the patriarchal power long before receiving -the name, and probably from times immediately succeeding the apostles. So -long as these patriarchs remained in communion with the bishop of Rome, -their head and chief, most of the questions of discipline, and many of -those of faith, could be, and were, settled by the patriarch, or local -authority, without resort to the Roman pontiff. -{477} -But when these sees fell off from unity into heresy or schism, Peter -remained only in the Roman see, and all causes that had previously been -disposed of by the patriarchs of the East had to be carried at once to -Rome, before the supreme court. - -Rome, Alexandria, and Antioch were the three chief cities of the empire, -and the capitals the first of the empire itself, and the others of its two -largest and most important prefectures. This fact may seem to favor the -author's theory that the ecclesiastical superiority is derived from the -civil superiority; but had this been so, Jerusalem would hardly have been -selected as the seat of the third patriarchate of the East. The -geographical position and civil and political importance of these cities -may have influenced the apostle in selecting them to be the chief seats of -the ecclesiastical government he under Christ was founding, but could not -have been the ground of their superior ecclesiastical jurisdiction, because -the church was not organized as a national religion, or with a view to the -Roman empire alone, and the apostles themselves carried the gospel beyond -the farthest limits of that empire, into regions never penetrated by the -Roman eagles. The church was catholic, and was to subsist in all ages and -teach all nations, as well as all truth. Our Lord said, "My kingdom is not -of this world;" it does not hold from the kingdoms of this world, and is -independent of them, both in its constitution and in its bowers. These -remain always and everywhere the same, whatever the revolutions or the rise -and fall of states and empire. The authority of the church is immediately -from God; her grandeur and glory are spiritual, and not derived from the -greatness, grandeur, wealth, or power of earthly cities. St. Augustine -makes the city of Rome the type of the city of the world, which he -contrasts with the church or city of God. The idea that the rank or the -authority of the bishop derived from the civil rank and importance of the -city in which he held his see was a Constantinopolitan idea not heard of -till the fifth century, and, as we shall see in its place, one of the chief -causes of the schism between the East and the West. - -The author denies that St. Peter was ever, in the proper sense of the word, -bishop of Rome, or of any particular see. If he is right, how could the -unity of the church have a visible starting-point or centre? or how could -it be said to begin from Peter or the chair of Peter, as his own witness, -St. Cyprian, asserts? If Peter had no particular see, established his see, -or set up his chair, his cathedra, nowhere in particular, the whole -argument of St. Cyrian [Cyprian?] as to the origin and manifestation of -unity is baseless, and goes for nothing. Besides, it is contradicted by -universal tradition. The testimony that Peter had his chair at Rome is -ample, and leaves nothing to be desired. But this is not the point. It is -for the author to prove that he was not bishop of Rome; for he has -undertaken to prove the papacy is schismatic, and at every step he takes, -the burden of proof is on him. Where are his proofs? - -The author says St. Linus was bishop of Rome when Peter first arrived in -that city. A church which has a bishop is already a church founded and -constituted. Yet the author allows and cites authorities that prove that -Peter was the founder, or at least one of the founders, of the Roman -Church! That St. Linus was the first bishop of Rome after St. Peter there -is no doubt; that he was the first bishop, or bishop of Rome, before the -arrival of St. Peter in the city, there is no evidence, but any amount of -testimony to the contrary. We say there is no evidence. The lists given by -the fathers sometimes enumerate him as first and sometimes as second, as -they do or do not include the apostle; but all make him the successor of -St. Peter. The fathers, in giving the lists of other apostolic sees, are -not uniform, and sometimes they include and sometimes they exclude the -apostle, and reckon only from his death. -{478} -Eusebius says, as cited by the author, p. 144, "After the martyrdom of Paul -and Peter, Linus was the first that received the episcopate at Rome." -Tertullian, as also cited by the author, p. 145, says that "Peter sat on -the chair of Rome;" but he contends that Tertullian "does not mean that he -was bishop, but that he taught there," that is, St. Peter was a professor -of theology at Rome! This might do if Tertullian had been treating of the -Sorbonne, or of the French university, but will not answer here. In -ecclesiastical language, _chair, cathedra_, means simply the seat of -the bishop, and, figuratively, the episcopal authority. To say Peter sat in -the chair or cathedra of Rome is saying simply he was bishop of Rome. The -presumption is, that Tertullian meant what he said, understood according to -the usages of the language he used. Besides, if chair _may_ sometimes -be used figuratively for teaching, it is the author's business to prove -that it must mean so in this particular case. This he does not and cannot -do. - -The author pretends that the tradition which makes Peter seven years bishop -of Antioch and twenty-five years bishop of Rome is obviously false; for any -one can see by counting that there was not time enough for it between the -day of Pentecost and the martyrdom of Peter. We do not pretend to be very -good at counting, but as we count, seven years bishop of Antioch and -twenty-five years bishop of Rome make in all thirty-two years. The day of -Pentecost, according to the usual reckoning, was in A.D. 33, and St. Peter -suffered martyrdom at Rome under Nero, A.D. 66, or at the earliest 65. -Tillemont says 66, which leaves thirty-three, at least thirty-two years; -and we see no reason to suppose that the organization of the church at -Jerusalem and committing it to the care of James, its first bishop, and the -setting up of his chair at Antioch, might not all have been done before the -close of the year of the crucifixion. But even an error in the chronology -would not prove that Peter was not bishop of Rome. - -The pretence that it was incompatible with the dignity of an apostle to be -the bishop of a particular see has nothing to sustain it. It is not -necessary to suppose Peter, by establishing his see at Rome, was obliged to -confine his whole attention and labor to that particular church, or that he -remained constantly at Rome. Indeed, it is very possible, and thought by -many to be very probable, that he committed the care of that church daring -his absences to St. Linus as his vicar, and there are several authorities -to that effect. Some of them join St. Anacletus, Cletus, or, as the Greeks -say, Anencletus, and St. Clement, successively bishops of Rome, with St. -Linus in the government of the Roman Church under Peter during his -lifetime; but, however this may have been, tradition is constant that St. -Linus was the immediate successor of Peter, which at least implies that -Peter was regarded as having held the see as well as having assisted in -founding it; for otherwise St. Linus could not have been regarded as his -successor, and no reason could be assigned why he was called the successor -of Peter rather than of Paul, who also assisted in founding it, and is -honored even to-day by the Roman Church as one of its founders. - -We have taken up the author's theory point by point, and we find him -utterly failing to establish it in whole or in part. His allegations are -set forth with great confidence, but the authorities he cites do not -sustain them, and are either not to his purpose or, like St. Cyprian, point -blank against him. He may have demolished the man of straw which he himself -had set up, but he leaves standing the papacy as held by the Catholic -Church and defined by the council of Florence. -{479} -He has asserted in very strong terms the ignorance, the chicanery, the -sophistry, and the dishonesty of the Roman theologians, and leaves no doubt -in the minds of intelligent readers that he greatly excels them in the -qualities and practices he ascribes to them; but he adduces nothing beyond -his own assertions and misrepresentations against their fairness and -candor, and their intelligence and learning. His sneers at them are pointed -only by his own ignorance or malice, and present him in a most unfavorable -light. His cant, so abundant against them, is very stale and simply -disgusting. From first to last he proves that he lacks, we will not say the -humility of the Christian, but the modesty and reserve of real learning and -science, and that he is moved not by love of truth, but by a spirit of -hatred and revenge. - -Here we might well close, for the author has refuted from St. Cyprian -himself, by proving by his own witness the primacy of jurisdiction by -divine right was possessed even in the third century, while he has left all -the arguments and authorities adduced by the Roman theologians from -Scripture and tradition to prove affirmatively the papal authority by -divine right, or by the positive appointment of Jesus Christ in their full -force. But the reasons which induced us in the first place to begin the -examination of the author's lucubrations induce us to go through with them. -The work has been translated and published here under Protestant auspices, -set up as an important work against the papal authority and the Church of -Rome, "the root and matrix of the Catholic Church," as says St. Cyprian, -and, were it left unnoticed or unreplied to, many people might take it to -be really what it is represented to be, and conclude that we cannot answer -it because we have not done it. - -Besides, the controversy between large classes of Protestants and Catholics -is narrowed down to two questions, the honor we render to Mary the mother -of God, and the authority we attribute to the Holy See and the Roman -pontiff. M. Guettée, having been reared in our communion and gone out from -us because he was not of us, and having in this work done his best to prove -the papacy schismatic, and that its assertion has been the cause of the -schism between the East and the West, affords us as good an occasion as we -can expect to discuss the latter question, and to consider the arguments, -facts, and authorities alleged in their defence by those who refuse their -obedience to St. Peter in his successor. The work is rambling, and made up -of details most wearisome to read, and difficult to bring into a shape in -which its real value can be brought to the test, but it is a fair specimen -in spirit and arrangement of the works written against the Roman and -Catholic Church, and contains in some form all that schismatics allege -first and last against her. We may as well make it our text-book for the -discussion as any other. But we have already trespassed long enough on the -patience of our readers for this month. - ------- - -{480} - - - Translated from the French. - - - The Crucifix of Baden. - - A Legend of the Middle Ages. - - -Will you follow me to Baden? Not to that elegant and wild and whirling -Baden of painted faces and flashy toilettes, where gentlemen of the turf -display their horsemanship on the plain of Iffezheim; where the majesty of -old Germany elbows, in the Trinkhalle, the princes of Bohemia; but to the -fresh, dark, silent, almost unknown nooks of that Baden which God has made -and which man has yet left untouched; where the artist wanders for his -picture, the poet for his inspiration, the dreamer for his vision, the -Christian to murmur his prayer; for it is to a burial-ground that I am -about to lead you. But fear not on that account; this burial-place of Baden -has comparatively but little of the mournful in its appearance; it is -truly, as its name declares, the _Fried Hof_--the Court of Peace. -Under that green turf, under those flower-clad hillocks, there lie bodies -that suffer no more, but sleep in quiet; their souls may suffer, indeed, -and be in pain, but their souls are no longer there; and can repose alone -be frightful? Look around, and, as far as the eye can reach, what beauty -shines in the landscape, what a charm invests the distant meeting of earth -and sky! Look up to the gray blue heaven, pale and transparent, as is ever -that sky which stretches over the valley of the Rhine; to those pure white -clouds floating like distant sails on a stormless sea; to those distant -hills, with outlines softening as they recede; to the green woods that -fringe their sides; to those walls which time has breached; those crumbling -towers; those ruined castles which seem to overhang the plain of the -dead--man's work, and the hands that created it, becoming dust together. -These sights may, indeed, be melancholy, but they are peace-giving too; for -there in the midst hangs Christ bowing his weary head and stretching out -his bruised arms in yonder great crucifix of stone. - -In a churchyard, nothing is more frequent, nor, so to speak, more natural, -than to see a crucifix. It is there like the flag on the bastion, the mast -on the vessel. Without it the place would be accursed and desolate, for -hope would be wanting there. All know and acknowledge this, but, -nevertheless, few passers-by bestow a glance on the holy image. Some -faithful ones may, when they see it, make the sign of the cross; others -bend slightly before it; well-bred people uncover; free-thinkers, with -proud look and step, with unbending knee and body erect, pass it by, they -who would bow so low before the coronet of a prince or even the key of a -chamberlain. - -And certainly indifferent, timid, and free-thinking ones come to the -_Fried Hof_ of Baden; but _there_, few stop not and marvel, if by -chance their eyes fall upon its crucifix. There is upon that rigid -face--those features of stone--a look of life, of flesh and blood, which -enchains you, moves the depths of your heart, speaks to you. To understand -that gaze, it is not necessary to be a Christian; alas! it is enough to be -a man. Those lips, half parted in a sigh, tremble in the stone; those -half-closed eyes seem really to weep; agony sits upon every feature; -bitterness of soul has worn every one of those furrows, the arch of the -brows has been contracted, the pure lines of the profile broken, the calm -of the forehead destroyed by a sorrow, overwhelming, silent, inconsolable; -and you would have before you the image of human misery the most complete, -the deepest, the most horrible, if a ray from the Majesty on high did not -come to elevate and illumine that petrifaction of grief. - -{481} - -When you have long studied those features and contemplated their agony, you -involuntarily ask yourself: Where did the sculptor find so suffering a -face, so living an agony? whence came his model? for you feel that those -features once were the flesh of one to whom ordinary grief were as nothing. -That look of life, that pain so real, came certainly from a human heart -that once beat beneath them, and in them painted its wounds, its tortures, -and its agony. They were _seen_, and not merely created in the -artist's brain. - -Yes; you are right. Those features are those of a suffering, repentant, and -miserable man. If you approach the base of the crucifix, you will see -graven in the once soft stone, in long Gothic letters, and in the Suabian -dialect of the fifteenth century, these short and simple words, which are -the explanation and the ending of its story: - - "MINA, OTHO. - "May God receive you and pardon me." - -Nothing more; no signature to the work, nor name added to the prayer. But -young souls, simple hearts, poetic spirits, which still may be found at -Baden, in spite of "sport" and "the turf," will relate to you the birth of -the work and the fate of the artist; for, alas! the story of the crucifix -is also the story of the sculptor. - ----- - - Chapter I. - - -It was a populous, busy, and bright city, Baden of old, as it flourished in -the fifteenth century, in the days of the Margrave Bernard of Staehberg. -Less noisy than to-day, it was more picturesque. Where great hotels, white -villas, and regular edifices now rise, then only narrow crooked streets -were seen; where Gothic houses, those old German dwellings, of which a few -still stand at Augsburg, at Ulm, and especially at Nuremberg, reared their -sculptured gables and pointed roofs, wherein were set windows looking like -half-opened eyes, while beams projected from the wall beneath and supported -little balconies, and long, narrow windows with leaden sashes glistened in -the glory of their little, thick, greenish hued and diamond-shaped panes. - -Nevertheless, those streets in which the sun-rays rarely penetrated, -(caught as they were in their way by the projecting fronts of the houses,) -were one day of the beautiful month of May, 1435, filled with people in -holiday dress, bearing curious and smiling faces, with fluttering pennons, -shining armor, and broad banners. It was the day of the tournament, and the -gossips grouped themselves together to see pass the barons of the mountains -and plains, and to relate to each other the high achievements of each -doughty noble and the traditions of his family, while they awaited the -return from the _burg_ of the proud victors or humbled vanquished. - -But of the general joy, the cries that rang through the town, only a few -faint and expiring echoes reached a lonely and distant street, where the -houses, lower and more scattered, no longer stood close together, but began -to grow scattered through the fields. One of these houses, the largest and -almost the last, was distinguished from its neighbors by two peculiarities. -The front of the first story, instead of being cut by those narrow -leaden-sashed openings joined one to the other, through which the light of -day might scarcely enter, offered to the gaze a huge window with larger, -neater, and more regular panes than any around. Through the openings on the -ground floor a narrow spiral staircase might be seen winding its polished -steps and balustrade of stone, carved like lace, beneath a roof of wood -delicately cut in graceful flowers, branches, arabesques, and interlaced -figures. -{482} -Above all, in a little wooden niche, a little carved shrine, which -surmounted the pointed gable, was the form of an angel with folded wings, -chiselled in pure white marble. One might imagine that the heavenly -messenger had stopped there to rest in the middle of some long journey; -that he gazed calmly down and protected with his frail hands the high gray -house which he seemed to bless; so that the gossips, who all knew the -dwelling and held its master in high esteem, called his abode The House of -the Angel. - -And the good burgesses wondered not to see the white statue on that gray -front, nor did they marvel at the graceful scrolls and arabesques of the -pretty staircase, and that huge dazzling window, for they knew that the -last served to light the studio of the sculptor Sebald Koerner, and that -the two ornaments of the house, the marble angel and the carved roof, were -his work. - -Sebald Koerner was justly esteemed and even admired by the burgesses of -Baden. It was not that he was very famous or very rich; that he earned much -money or made much noise in the world. But it was because he was honest, -patient, true; at once pious and dreamy, modest and intelligent. He lived -only for his art, and scarcely partook at all of the passions, the aims, -the entrancements of the crowd. He did not place himself above it, but -without it, and men hold in high respect those who from a calm retreat -behold the torrent of human life rush by. As an artist, he had rivals, but -no enemies; as a man, he had his failings, but no vices; as a father, he -had a treasure, a fair-haired daughter, named Mina, who had seen the -flowers of seventeen springs bloom. Sebald Koerner might call himself a -happy man. - -But he was not only a happy man, he was a wise one, and what God had given -him of strength, genius, calm, and happiness he guarded carefully, lest he -might lose it in the tumult of the life of men. Therefore the day of the -tournament, which had so stirred the peaceful city of Baden with rumors of -pleasure and joy, saw old Sebald shut himself up in his atelier. He had -worked since dawn, while the swords of others were clashing and shields and -breastplates resounding, while plumes and banners flashed through the air, -and horns and clarions awoke the echoes; and he had first prayed, for such -was his custom, and he imagined that prayer brightened his -inspirations--men were so ignorant and barbarous in those "dark ages"! Then -with a skilful and pious hand he wielded hammer and chisel through long -hours well employed, and now, although the sun was sinking behind the -mountains, he still worked, standing before his great stone bas-relief, -only interrupting himself from time to time to cast a glance full of -parental love on his daughter Mina. - -Upon Mina fell the last ray of the sun, which, after kissing the verdure of -the mountain, shone through the panes and made her long silver-gray gown -glitter like silver itself, and seemed to light a beam of dark light in the -centre of each of her large black eyes. Those were splendid eyes, and -rarely seen in one so fair, for Mina was a blonde, and the golden threads -of her purse were not brighter than those her hair, but only less soft and -close. Nothing could equal the perfect purity and grace of her forehead and -cheeks, the whiteness of her skin, the delicacy of the lines of her face: -she seemed a beauteous statue, to which God, in reward to its designer, had -given life and motion, and a loving heart and golden hair. - -The bas-relief which the old sculptor was finishing seemed indeed as if -long and difficult labor had been spent upon it. It represented a religious -subject, for any but religious subjects were scarcely known, in those times -when minds were so simple, imagination so quiet, and intelligence so -limited, according to our strong-minded ones of this age; in those times -when pilgrims marvelled at the beauty of a Child Jesus, or the chaste grace -of a Virgin Mary; when the Apollos, the Minervas, the Venuses and Adonises, -forgotten or unknown, were yet buried in the darkness of centuries and -under the dust of ruins. - -{483} - -What Sebald Koerner wished to represent was the dawn of the resurrection -day. - -The cave of the sepulchre was there, rocky, vaulted, and low. At the -entrance knelt Peter, with wide-opened eyes and trembling lips, and -Magdalene wept, stretching forth her arms. Yes, she wept, for the sepulchre -was empty. The stone which closed the tomb moved to one side, allowed the -scattered bands which wrapped the sacred body and the abandoned -winding-sheet to be seen, and the angel seemed to announce to the two -faithful followers the glad and great tidings--the tidings of triumph and -of consolation--_Resurrexit: non est hic:_ words graven on the -banderole which hung from his hand. - -Old Sebald's angel was noble, radiant, and beautiful, as became a messenger -of heaven. The sculptor, with something of artistic caprice, had placed a -golden star upon his forehead, and with the fond pride of a father had -given to his face the features of his beautiful Mina, so that, when he -smiled upon his angel, it seemed to him that he smiled upon his daughter, -and, when he turned to his daughter, he became grave, and moved as if he -looked upon a celestial visitant. - -"I am satisfied with thee, my daughter," said he, after silently comparing -for some moments the two faces. "I find nothing to change in thy pure brow, -thy modest attitude, or thy soft gaze. All that I cannot copy is thy smile. -And thy smile is sweet, my Mina, but it is too lively, too childish, too -mocking; it is earthly, and not, I am sure, the smile of the bright ones -above." - -"Marvel not that it should be so, my father," replied Mina, while her eyes -glistened: "Above, angels smile in ecstasy, love, and piety, while I here -can only bear the smile of youth and hope." - -"Thou art right, my child; I would not blame thee. Hope is natural to the -young. Long years are before them; they may expect to see their projects -accomplished, their brightest dreams realized. Melancholy and weariness are -the lot of old fathers, old dreamers, and old workers such as I." - -"And why, father," returned Mina gayly, "shouldst thou be sad? Hast thou -not an art which is better than a fortune? a name which is known throughout -Baden as well as those of our oldest barons and bravest knights? Thou art -never idle; thou lackest a companion never. Noble ladies and proud lords -offer thee a respectful salute as they pass the door of the House of the -Angel; and, when they are not here, thy little Mina remains; and thou -thyself makest holy companions for thyself when carving some beautiful -Virgin or sweet child-Jesus." - -"'Tis that which often makes me tremble, my child. Hath my spirit enough of -inspiration, are my hands pure enough to reproduce those holy features? to -give to stone, or marble, or wood the charm and majesty of those divine -forms which from their golden halos call and smile on me? to express the -sweetness of the Christ-child, the tenderness of Christ the Mediator, or -the virginal motherhood of his holy mother? No; to inspiration must be -added the heart of a Christian; and if I have dared too much and but ill -succeeded; if to those sacred faces I have given too much of man's fall and -misery, then am I guilty, and then have I failed in my aim--in more than my -aim, for then my peace of conscience and repose of soul, too, are lost. -These, Mina, are the fears that weaken and the questions that disquiet me, -and so often render my hand unsteady, and mark care upon my brow." - -"Thou art very wrong to be so troubled, my father," said Mina, lifting her -head with a little air of triumph. "From Strasburg to Nuremburg, from -Constance to Augsburg, all who have hearts and eyes and frequent the -churches say there is in this world no man like thee to carve angels and -saints." - -{484} - -"Ay; so say men," replied Sebald, "but God hath not yet said it, he who -sees and judges my works; and from him must come my courage and my -strength, for I would destroy all the works of my hands if by them I knew -that he was offended. Look, my child, this bas-relief is nearly completed, -and until now I was satisfied with it, but a scruple comes and weighs -heavily upon my mind. This angel is very beautiful, Mina, since he bears -thy face, but have I not presumed too much in giving him thy features? As -one of the host of heaven he is perfect, so far as aught beneath God -himself can be perfect. But thou art but a child of earth; thou art good, -thou art tender to thy old father; thou art his only treasure, and yet more -beautiful than this angel, but wilt thou be always calm, pure, and radiant -as he?" - -"I will try, my father," answered Mina, with an air of half rebellious -resolution, mingled at the same time with deep tenderness. - -"Promise me, Mina, that thou wilt ever seek to be angelic and joyous, and -in the midst of the world to live retired from it, that the weaknesses and -griefs of men may ever remain far from thee and never afflict thee. I am -old, and, when I shall rest in the tomb, thou wilt be the heiress of my -name and the guardian of my memory. Then learned men, princes, travellers, -who may perchance have heard of my fame, may come. Thou wilt salute them at -the threshold, and when they ask for old Sebald, thou, pointing to my -deserted studio and empty seat, wilt reply, '_Resurrexit: non est -hic_: He hath succeeded; he hath finished his years of toil, and -reposeth in his fatherland.' And I, my Saviour!" continued old Koerner, "I -will then know whether I knew thee on earth. After thou hast done this, my -daughter, dismiss the travellers and bid the princes farewell. Live in -simplicity and retirement with a few old friends, my poor child, for thou -hast no mother, or with some faithful companion whom thou mayest wed.' - -"Father, father!"' cried the young girl, "why speak of sorrow and death in -the beautiful spring, when the sun shines so brightly, and when thou art -finishing the beautiful angel to whom thou hast given such radiance and -youth? If thou couldst give him youth, my father, it is because thou yet -possessest youth and long wilt possess it. And thinkest thou that, if thou -wert no longer on earth, many would give a thought to thy little Mina, who -is young and ignorant, and who is not a lady? No, those to whom strangers -would come to speak of thy fame, whom, after thy departure, they would -seek, are sure to be thy pupils Johann Muller, Franz Steinbach, and -even--and even--Sir Otho of Arneck, who carves so bravely, and wears such -glistening arms." - -"As to the two first, thou art perhaps right, my daughter," said Koerner, -who had again begun to work, and was lightly polishing the tunic of the -angel with the edge of his chisel. "Franz hath ardor and Johann almost -genius. But for the knight, Sir Otho, he amuses himself with sculpture as -with training his hawks or with the wrestling of his varlets." - -"Art not too severe?" asked Mina lowering her eyes and puckering her rosy -lips into a little pout. "I thought the knight of Arneck had something of -talent; that thou thyself saidst the day he modelled the great St. -Michael." - -"In good truth, he might have talent, were he more pious, more humble, and -were he not a noble. Thinkest thou, Mina, that inspiration will come in the -midst of the clamors of a passage-at arms, the charms of a concert of -lutes, or of a circle of great ladies listening to the words of a handsome -cavalier, or the lays of a minnesinger? No; who would consecrate his labors -to the honor of God and the saints must seek his inspiration, looking -upward to heaven, studying the mountains and the fields, or praying in the -churches. Then let him return and work and adore, lest the holy vision fly -or the sweet fervor grow cold." - -{485} - -"Nevertheless, my father, the Chevalier Otho, is very assiduous, and I have -more than once heard thee marvel at his zeal." - -"Assuredly, he has been zealous. But can he really bear that zeal in his -heart, wherein he bears the pride of his high lineage, the gallantry of a -courteous knight, and all the cares of his seigneury? No; his ardor is but -the flame of burning straw, which quickly dies. I cannot even understand -why the knight of Arneck should take up the chisel--he who should content -himself with the sword." - -"Yes, yes, father, he wields it marvellously!" cried Mina, in a burst of -enthusiasm. - -"And therefore should be content with it. But Sir Otho knows not what he -wants. To day he practises a new thrust, and to-morrow he cuts stone or -models a statue. See, he has not finished the fine armor of his archangel, -and yet he could not keep from the tournament. And nevertheless, he -promised to be here before evening." - -Mina did not reply to these last words, but threw a vague, sorrowful glance -toward the sun, which yet shone, but was fast sinking. - -Sebald, yet touching up various parts of his bas-relief, did not turn his -head, and for some moments silence reigned in the atelier. - -Soon the fall of a light and vigorous step was heard on the little pointed -black stones which formed the pavement of the street. - -"It is perhaps Sir Otho," said Sebald, and continued his work. - -"If it were he, he would come on horseback," replied Mina, whose cheeks, -despite her, were covered with the blush of expectant happiness, and in a -moment she had left her seat, opened a portion of the large window, and was -leaning joyfully over the sculptured balcony. - -But she soon returned, looking sad. - -"No, father, it is not he; it is only Johann," said she, and she seemed to -awake from a dream. - -"Then let him come up quickly," replied the old man, well pleased with the -news, but still working on. - -A moment after he arose, as he heard the footfalls on the stair, and turned -to greet the most beloved and studious of all his pupils. - - - - Chapter II. - -The new-comer was a young man of perhaps twenty-eight years, pale, -delicate, and slightly stooped. His large blue eyes, candid and -intelligent, gave a charm to his young though thoughtful face, whence light -emotions seemed to be banished to give place to the workings of a vigorous -mind. Johann, at first sight, did not seem handsome, but he became more and -more interesting on acquaintance. The simplicity of this look and costume-- -a dark gray doublet, leathern belt, and cap without either clasp or plume-- -certainly neither attracted nor retained the gaze. Johann saluted the -beautiful Mina, who returned his greeting with a look of playful anger, and -then hastened to greet his master. - -"Well, Johann, what news?" asked Sebald, advancing with outstretched hand. - -"That I have not come alone, master. Your business is done; the prior of -the monastery of Fremersberg is here. I have spoken in your name, and he -binds you neither by designs nor advice. You will be at full liberty to -execute according to your own will the sculpture of the chapel. You need -only confer with him as to the time and conditions of the work. The prior -wished much to visit your atelier and see your beautiful bas-relief, of -which the fame has spread far and wide, but you know that he is old and -infirm. The stair was too steep for him to mount, and I left him in the -hall below, where he awaits you." - -{486} - -"Very good; I go, my brave boy and thanks to thee. Hast been in the city, -Johann?" - -"Yes, master, I was carried away by the crowd and could not avoid the -tournament." - -"Very well, then, amuse Mina with the story of all the fine things that -thou hast seen. An old father and his statues are not very joyous company -for a girl of seventeen." - -With these words Koerner left the room, and Mina, who until now had -remained silent and pouting, came forward with animated looks and flashing -eyes: - -"Then you saw the tournament, Johann?" she began. - -"Yes, Demoiselle Mina." - -"Who were the victors?" - -"There were three, as there were three encounters. The Gaugrave Siegfried -of Ehrenfels; the old Count of Arenheim; and our acquaintance, our fellow -of the studio, Otho of Arneck, who triumphed on foot and on horse, and -received the finest of all the crowns." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Mina, with a joyous sigh, while a sudden blush overspread -her countenance. - -"And," continued Johann, "it was the richest and most beautiful of the -ladies of the Margravate who gave it him--the Countess Gertrude of -Horsheim, whose father possesses the entire valley of the Murg." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Mina again, but this time her sigh was one of anguish, and -she grew pale. - -Johann Muller gazed on her a moment in silence, then turned away and walked -a few paces with the air of one who meditates some resolution or prepares a -discourse; then he returned, and stood with downcast eyes before the young -girl. - -"Demoiselle Mina," said he, "we have known each other since infancy. Would -you, for the sake of our old friendship, allow me to ask you one question, -and then to offer you a single counsel?" - -"I will reply to your question, if it be suitable for me to do so, and I -will list your counsel if it be good," replied the girl with a slight -haughtiness in her manner. - -"You shall judge," said Johann. "Demoiselle, you take much interest in all -that passes in the city." - -"I seek not to conceal it. I am young and full of life, and I love to gaze -upon brilliant cavalcades, shining breast-plates, floating plumes and -broidered doublets; I like to hear of the nuptials of such a baron, or the -mourning of such a castellan. My father forbids it not, nor think I that -you will blame it. Such tastes are far from marvellous at my age." - -"Nor marvel I at them; but if they are imprudent, demoiselle?" asked Johann -with a look of affliction. - -"Imprudent! Why?" returned Mina quickly, a flash gleaming from beneath her -long lashes. - -"Because--because," stammered Johann, "to me it seemeth that the happiness -of a young maiden like thee, beautiful, good, and virtuous as thou art, is -better assured when it flourishes beneath the shadow of her home. -Baronesses and countesses may display their great names and fine apparel at -courts and tourneys; but for thee, demoiselle, _thy_ pride, _thy_ -rich apparel, and _thy_ true dignity are thy sweet virtue in the first -place, and, after, the renown of thy father, and such gifts are but little -prized by the great ones of the world. Thou wilt better enjoy them and -better preserve them by not exposing them without thy dwelling." - -"And have I not remained there?" cried Mina, almost in tears. "Go I ever to -rejoicings unless my father bears me company? Was I ever seen, while he -works here, to babble or even to smile without?" - -"'Tis not that I would charge," replied Johann, "All see thee ever here, -tranquil, smiling, and pure, like yon bright marble cherubim, which hovers -over thy house, and, even if he were not there, still might thy dwelling be -called the House of the Angel. -{487} -But if thy thoughts wander abroad whilst thou remainest here; if thou dost -always desire ardently to see those rejoicings of which thou knowest -naught, or that world which thou scarcely knowest, thou wilt become -unhappy, demoiselle, and it is that evil I wished--that thou must escape." - -"But why, my good Johann, disquiet thyself about my happiness?" asked Mina -in a kinder tone. - -"Why, Mina, why? Because from childhood I have grown by thy side; because -for long years it seemed thou wert my sister; because later I thought thee -my friend; because I would gladly bear the burden of thy sorrows, and count -thy hopes as mine own." - -"I thank thee, Johann; thy heart is good and true," replied the girl, while -her eye sought the distant mountain behind which the setting sun was soon -to sink. - -"Sayest thou so, Mina? I know nothing of that; I but feel that I have a -heart that loves thee that would regard no effort, recoil from no sacrifice -that would bring to thee joy, glory, or happiness." - -"Truly art thou generous, Johann," replied the girl, nodding her fair head. -"But I need naught; I am tranquil and happy, and will probably never find -occasion for the exercise of thy devotion." - -"Ah! if some day thou mayst find aught of consolation in my tenderness!" -cried Johann, clasping his hands and fixing a timid glance full of emotion -upon her. "Mina--I sometimes dreamt--pardon me--but thy father was always -so affectionate to me, and thou hast often been so kind--I sometimes dreamt -that some day Sebald Koerner might call me son--that thou, Mina--thou -mightest give me a name dearer, tenderer, holier yet. But your looks tell -me I have hoped in vain before your mouth has spoken--and yet, to thee -would I have consecrated so much of devotion and love, if thou hadst become -my wife!" - -The maiden motioned with her hand and turned away with a sigh. - -"We would be neither rich nor powerful," continued Johann, "but -nevertheless I thought we might be happy. If thou shouldst desire fine -apparel, Mina, I would have given thee them from the rewards of my toil; if -thou shouldst desire glory, I would have worked until thou wouldst bear my -name with pride. For thee would I have strained my uttermost strength, what -talent I may own, my youth--and of thee I would have asked only that thou -shouldst remain joyous and beautiful, and shouldst love me a little. And -how peacefully would thy old father live--how happily die, seeing thee -happy and beloved, ay, adored! Yes--adored, Mina; I have said the word and -will not unsay it." - -Uttering these last words, Johann lowered his eyes and bent his head before -her, as if to express by his mien the deep tenderness of his heart. She -stretched forth her hand, moved by these simple declarations of a love -almost hopeless, but yet so full of life. - -"Dear Johann--faithful Johann," said she at length, "thou art good and -kind, but--speak no more thus. Thou hast said that in our childhood thou -lovedst me as a sister. Let me still be thy sister. I will never be thy -wife. I will neither lie nor forswear myself. I would shelter myself behind -the grating of the cloister of Lichtenthal or sleep in yonder cemetery -rather than give thee my hand, because with it I should not give my heart, -and thou wouldst not see remorse and regret in the heart of thy wife. -Johann! let us be friends, and, if thou lovest me, try to forget thy -dream." - -"I may never forget it," murmured the young sculptor. "My love is as old as -I, Mina; it forms part of my life. But if God, some day allows its flame to -be quenched, it will be because he will light in its place a purer and -loftier one, and God alone may console me, Mina, when I shall have lost--" - -At this instant the joyous notes of far off-trumpets broke the calm silence -of the air. - -"What sounds are those?" asked Mina, turning to the window. - -{488} - -"Probably the departure of the vanquishers of the tourney. After the -distribution of the crowns, they were invited to the _burg_, and are -now separating, doubtless to change their costume for the ball of the -evening. Perhaps, too, some of the barons may be returning to their -castles, and, if so, their banners will soon appear at the end of the -street." - -"I am very curious to see them pass," said Mina, and, leaving Johann alone -in the atelier, she pushed a stool upon the balcony, and there, leaning -upon the railing, her little head with its golden hair supported by her -white hand, she awaited the coming of the brilliant _cortege_. - - - Chapter III. - -Toward evening, indeed, knights, bannerets, squires, and men-at-arms -scattered themselves through the roads and the streets of the town. One of -the most brilliant, though least numerous parties were making their way -toward where the town became confounded with the country. Two nobles rode -in advance, helmet on head and lance in hand, attired in brilliant armor, -over which were thrown pourpoints of fine velvet. Behind, their squires -bore their banners, one showing gilt battlements in a field gules, the -armorial bearings of the barons of Arneck, the other the green oak and -argent field of the rich counts of Broeck. - -"My dear Otho," said the last named, throwing upon his young companion a -glance of almost paternal affection, "I am well satisfied with thee; thy -deeds shone bright in to-day's joustings. Thy brothers-in-arms had begun to -laugh at thee, and to say thou hadst become but an image-maker. But to-day -showed that the noble remained in thee." - -"You are very kind, my lord count," replied the young knight. - -"Not so, in sooth; I but look to thy interest, as in duty bound. Although -thy domains, my friend, be of limited extent, thou hast a name ancient -enough, a brilliant fame, and a brave enough form to make it a pleasure for -many a rich and proud demoiselle to give thee her hand and dowry, and to -change name and title for those of the barons of Arneck." - -"You flatter me, lord count," replied Otho, raising himself in his saddle -and joyfully stroking his mustache. "Hath one of those fair ladies of whom -you speak deigned to cast a glance upon me?" - -"More than one has done so, as well thou knowest," returned he of Broeck; -"and even to-day the richest and most beautiful of them all, Gertrude of -Horsheim, spoke and smiled graciously as she placed the crown upon thy -brows." - -"Lady Gertrude," said Otho, "hath truly a sweet voice and teeth of -exceeding whiteness." - -"Moreover, she hath two castles in the valley of the Murg and a thriving -village in the plain. Her father is a stout lord, who, I well know, will -not object to thee for a son-in-law. I know, Otho, that Master Sebald -Koerner has a pretty daughter, and that thou art sometimes charged with -wishing to espouse her. But wouldst thou truly, in the lightness of thy -heart, add to the battlements of thy shield the chisel of such a -father-in-law? They say that you make between you a complete company of -stone-cutters, and that thou art the mason and he the sculptor. I wish thee -well, my friend, and therefore do I scold and mock thee. I know that in thy -heart's depth thou art as proud as thou art brave. So far thou art Sir -Otho, Baron Otho, and all noble ladies smile upon and salute thee. Wouldst -be called Otho the citizen, Otho the image-maker, and have all ladies turn -their backs upon thee or point thee out as some wonder?" - -"Truly, not so: and never will I give them reason for so doing," replied -the young knight, with a face scarlet with shame. - -{489} - -"Then," said De Broeck, "reply suitably to the invitation I am about to -offer thee. In a fortnight I give a festival at my castle. There will be -jousts in the great court, banquets in the great hall, balls and hunts, -tilting for the ring, and shooting with the bow. The Countess Gertrude will -be there, and thou canst enroll thyself among the number of her suitors. -Siegfried of Thunn will be there, too; he bore the ring from thee lately, -and thou hast thy revenge to take. All this, I hope, promises enough of -pleasure, and is better than thy statues and images. So, Otho, thou wilt -come? I may count upon thee!" - -"Assuredly, my lord count, it is an honor and happiness to obey you," -replied the young knight, taking leave of his protector with a courteous -inclination. - -The two escorts separated, and Otho, dismissing his, took the direction of -the house of the old sculptor. - -A few moments after, Mina and Johann saw him enter the atelier. - -"Here I am at last, my dear master," said he, pressing the old artist's -hands with real affection. "Did you think I had forgotten you in the midst -of tiltings and passages-at-arms?" - -"There was certainly reason that you might," replied Sebald, smiling. "In -the midst of thrusts of lance and crushing of helms, you could scarce think -of kneading clay or cutting statues." - -"That may be, but a pupil can always find time to give his dearest, his -oldest friend and most excellent master pleasure. And what think you, -Master Koerner, I bring to-day?" - -"Firstly, a crown, if rumor speaks truth," answered the sculptor; -"secondly, some broken casques and battered harness. Those, I believe, are -the gleanings of the tilt-yard." - -"Then, master, you are wrong. I bring something different from all these. -Would you know what? An order from the margrave, written with his own hand -and sealed with his own seal, for Master Sebald Koerner to begin, with no -greater delay than a month at most, the decoration of the chapel and the -grand hall of his castle of Eberstein." - -"How! The margrave choose me!" cried Sebald, his eyes lighting up with joy. - -"And certes, my master, could he have made a better choice? After the -tournament we met in his castle, and he there spoke of his castle of -Eberstein and the embellishments he proposed, but he had not yet fixed his -choice upon a sculptor. In short, I brought forward your name; I praised -your St. Christopher; I recalled your Virgin Mary to his mind; some other -nobles seconded me, and--here is the order written upon parchment." - -"Thanks! thanks! my true friend! my dear pupil!" cried the old master, -pressing the young knight's hand. "Through your good offices some memories -of me may remain in my country. The thick walls of the castle of Eberstein -will protect and preserve my statues, and they may perhaps be gazed on when -time shall have crumbled into dust the saints I have carved for the -pediments of the houses of the city, and the Christs I have raised by the -roadsides. And it is you, noble Otho, who have brought to me the brightest -crown, the sweetest joy, a sculptor can wear or taste--the assurance of the -duration--mayhap the glory of his works!" - -"Dear master, why so much of compliment and gratitude? Would I not do much -more for the love of art and of you?" - -And while he spoke, the knight's eyes sought those of Mina, smiling and -blushing in a corner, and repeated in their silent language, "And for the -love of thee, too, fair girl." - -"This day is a day of gladness for me," continued old Sebald. "Johann -conducted hither after vespers the prior of the Augustines, who hath -confided to me the decoration of his chapel." - -"Pah! a monastery of poor monks!" exclaimed Otho, shrugging his shoulders -slightly, and throwing a disdainful glance on the humble Johann and his -gray doublet. -{490} -"Not a very brilliant or lucrative undertaking, I should say. You will -neither win a load of glory nor mountains of gold there, my dear master. -But each brings what he finds and gives what he has," said the young -knight, withdrawing his gaze from Johann and turning on his heel. - -"I could find nothing better," said Johann in a tone of discouragement, -"although I, too, would work for the glory and fortune of my master." - -"And thy master accepts thy good intentions with joy, my son," answered old -Sebald, taking his hand, "for he knows that they come from a devoted soul -and a sincere heart. I have not only a noble art and a good daughter; I -have also two brave pupils, two true friends. God be thanked, he hath made -me a happy man!" - -Happy, O poor Sebald! Ay, if thou hadst no daughter. Alas! why does Mina -gaze with such simple admiration upon the noble countenance and gilt spurs -of the knight? Why does she hang enchanted upon the sweet accents of his -voice? - -As long as he came regularly to the studio, Mina was smiling and happy; but -one day he came not, and on the next she received a letter. - - - Chapter IV. - -From the day Mina received that letter she lost her freshness and gayety. - -Then commenced a long and bitter series of nights without repose and days -without hope. She sometimes said sadly to herself that, as the sun shines -not always clearly, as the sky is not for ever blue, so the smiles and joys -of maidens are of short life; and that, while timid women remain around the -hearthstone, young and valiant knights must depart to the wars or on long -journeys, like the great silver herons which pass a season on the borders -of limpid waters, and then depart on outspread wing to return, when the -gloomy winter has passed, to find once more their nests in the long grass, -and their clean bath among the budding reeds. She thought all this, and -then reasoned a little and prayed much more; but she often trembled; she -ever was in pain, and, becoming weak, she became unhappy. - -Her cheeks grew pale; her brow clouded; her eyes ceased to sparkle. She no -longer took pleasure in seeing from her balcony the archers of the margrave -pass, nor in confining with golden cords and tassels her shining hair or -waving robe. Her sadness and languor at last attracted the attention of her -father. He thought that his frequent absences, the solitude of the house, -alone caused his daughter's weariness and illness. Ceasing for a while his -labor, he passed a few days with her, or brought her with him from time to -time, hoping to wean her thoughts from their melancholy by the sight of the -great ornamented halls and the beautiful park of the castle of Eberstein. - -But often, when he had led her to the great park and allowed her to wander -there, going himself to finish a keystone, to carve a capital, or decorate -a moulding, he found her not on his return crowned with wild flowers, or -culling odorous berries and grapes, or following with eager eye the -bounding deer. No; almost always Mina sat by the margin of some solitary -pond, plucking the leaves from willow branch or pulling a wild rose to -pieces. But her gaze bent not to the branch or to the flower. It wandered -over the surface of the water, slowly and sadly, and ofttimes seemed to -seek some invisible form in its depths, and then turned tearful from the -waves, as if sorrowing at not therein perceiving the object of its -longings. - -The old sculptor wondered and grew sad, as a good father would, and then -consoled himself with the reflection that often tender hearts were subject -to passing griefs, and that it takes but little to trouble the gayety of -the happiest maidens. -{491} -But it was the weariness of idleness he feared most for Mina, and he made -every effort to distract her thoughts. - -"Listen, my child," said he one beautiful morning in July, when the earth -smiled fresh and glittering in the dew--"listen. It is too fine a day for -me to wish to work in. In my old age I must have from time to time a little -recreation--fresh air and sun-light; if it please thee, we will go to the -city." - -"As thou wishest, father," replied Mina, rising with vacant eye and dreamy -air. - -"And methinks a little walk and a few cheerful visits would do thee -wondrous good. It is long since I have seen Master Hans Barthing, the -gold-smith, mine ancient neighbor and old friend, and his daughters Jeanne -and Bertha will not be vexed to have thee their companion for a day. Let us -start, then, my daughter. Ah! here is Johann! Well, let him come. Johann is -an excellent youth, and is always welcome with Master Barthing as with me. -Johann, my son," continued the old sculptor, turning to the young man, "it -is useless to take up the chisel to-day. Thou shalt help me to buckle my -mantle. We are going to take a walk, and I invite thee to accompany us." - -"I will go willingly," replied Johann, who rarely went out in Mina's -company, and who, poor boy, marked with a white mark those days when the -pretty girl deigned him a friendly look or word. - -Soon the three visitors arrived at the house of Master Barthing, the -jeweller, whose talent was well known and valued even beyond the frontiers -of the margravate of Baden, and whose frank cordiality and joyous humor -were justly prized by his friends and neighbors. - -"You here at last, Master Koerner!" cried the old goldsmith, rising from -his leathern arm-chair and doffing his furred cap as soon as he perceived -his visitors. "Come you to examine my treasures or to ask a diamond from my -shop? But, pshaw, my old Sebald, you need them not; you have other -treasures and owe no man for them; and here," he continued, looking on -Mina, "is your most brilliant, your most precious diamond. Come. Jeanne! -Bertha! here is a happy visit a charming friend." - -The two girls rushed forward and gave their ancient neighbor a thousand -caresses and a thousand kisses. - -"How changed thou art, Mina!" exclaimed Jeanne suddenly. - -"Thou art wearied, I am sure," added Bertha, "in thy great lonely house. It -cannot be very diverting to have ever around thee but marble and stone, and -plaster and statues. Why dost come so seldom to visit us? Together we can -amuse each other; we can recount legends as we spin; or Jeanne, who hath a -good voice, can trill some love-lay of the minnesingers. And what will -amuse thee perhaps more than aught else will be to see the beautiful and -shining jewels in our father's workshop. I know well, my dear friend, that -many fine things are to be seen in thy father's atelier, but there -everything is white for ever white, and that must be somewhat saddening. -But a young girl is always rejoiced and glad when she contemplates at her -leisure rich diadems and rings, enamelled flasks, and glittering -necklaces." - -"Courage, child! courage, Bertha!" cried the goldsmith, laughing. "It is a -dutiful daughter who to love of her father joins love of his trade. Well, -if thou thinkest Mademoiselle Mina will take pleasure in seeing my enamels, -my jewels, and my diamonds, as soon as our collation is finished thou shalt -take her to my atelier. I have there something I think exceeding fine, in -fact a veritable master-piece. But it becomes me not to praise myself. You -will see; you will judge, and you will give me your opinion." - -Half an hour after they entered the long and narrow gallery where the -goldsmith showed forth his richest jewels, his most massive and skilfully -chiseled pieces of silver, his best finished and most precious works. -{492} -Brilliant lights seemed to sparkle and shine from all sides in this room of -wonders. Everywhere glittered gold, rubies, sapphires, while pearls lent -their soft white light, and diamonds and opals their thousand colors. Great -show-cases full of enamellings shone like the sun; rings, reliquaires, -clasps, laid out on tables, seemed to form a vast train of sparks whose -fires mingled in shining light, and chains and necklaces formed slender -garlands of stars and variegated flame. - -And while the two old men followed, chatting, behind, the three young girls -wandered with light step in advance hither and thither, trying on this -necklace, toying with these rings, admiring that reliquaire, tearing their -entranced eyes from those wildernesses of beautiful forms, of rays and -colors. Between the two groups came Johann, the poor youth feeling no -inclination to join one and not daring to approach the other; lonely -Johann, who admired alone, and from time to time sighed. - -Suddenly Master Hans advanced before the girls, and, taking a key from the -huge purse which hung at his belt, he unlocked a casket of cedar wood, and -unrolled a carpet of emeralds on a field of glittering gold, before the -eyes of the spectators. - -"How beautiful! how dazzling!" cried the maidens. - -"Whence came such splendid jewels, such magnificent stones?" asked Master -Sebald. "One would think the treasures of the Eastern magicians, of whom -crusaders' legends tell, were spread before him." - -"This," replied Master Hans, plunging his hand into the casket and drawing -forth a chain set with emeralds, "is the treasure of the house of Horsheim, -to which I have added, by the order of the present lord, some of my rarest -stones. The count is about to celebrate the marriage of his daughter, and, -besides her dowry of beauty and of castles, he wishes to give her a -splendid one of jewels." - -"Ah! then beauteous Lady Gertrude is to be married at last," said Mina, -with a sigh of relief, for she had not yet forgotten how on the day of the -tournament Johann had told her that Otho had received the crown from the -hands of the young countess. - -"Yes, Demoiselle Mina; and the wedding, they say, takes place in a -fortnight, and will be one of the most brilliant ever celebrated in the -margravate of Baden." - -"But whom doth the countess marry?" asked Johann, who, without knowing why, -felt his heart beat painfully. - -"If rumor speaks sooth, a knight of but moderate fortune, but of goodly -form, large heart, and name of renown. They say 'tis the Baron of Arneck; -but of this I am not sure, for I have never seen the count and lady -together when they come the city." - -"What! Otho, my pupil?" interrupted Master Sebald. - -"And why not, old friend? If, as I think, it be he, thou wilt henceforth -see him but rarely, for hereafter he will have much else to do besides -moulding clay or chiselling statues." - -"Ah! I fear me much the brave knight is lost to sculpture," replied Sebald, -smiling. - -But Johann smiled not. He drew near Mina and followed her movements with -looks of anguish. He saw her cheek blanch and a cloud come over her eyes, -and, fearing lest she should faint, pushed a seat to her. - -But Mina refused it with a resolute gesture, and without trembling -approached the casket. - -"Are you sure that it is Otho of Arneck she marries?" asked she in a -strange tone, gazing fixedly upon Hans Barthing. "In any event, the bride -will be brave in this glistening chain. Ah! if it were I--if I were rich -and possessed castles, and were a countess--think you that I would not be -beautiful with these green flashings and diamonds in my hair and about my -neck?" - -Mina, speaking thus with a bitter laugh and vacant stare, twined the chain -around her neck and through her wavy tresses, and, in doing so, her little -fingers moved so fast that none could see how they trembled. - -{493} - -But suddenly her words ceased, her eyes closed, her hands fell by her side, -and with a feeble cry she fell upon the chair. - -"My daughter! O my daughter! What aileth thee?" cried old Sebald, running -to her. - -"'Tis naught; a weakness; nothing more." said the goldsmith. "The heat of -to-day was, indeed, enough to make a young girl faint. Quick, Bertha! -Jeanne! bring hither the Queen of Hungary's water and open the windows." - -"It is doubtless the influence of the stones that hath made poor Mina ill." -murmured one of the jeweller's daughters, who seemed to stand -terror-stricken. "Thou knowest, father, that the sapphire brings happy -dreams, the opal misfortune on its possessor, and the beryl can cause -faintings. It is then perhaps, the emeralds which cause Mina's illness. She -is not accustomed to gaze upon them, and they glitter so--the shining -stones!" - -"Yes, it is certainly the jewels and their light and the heat," stammered -Johann, who, on his knees, was holding the fainting girl's hands within his -own, and trying to restore their warmth. "But Demoiselle Mina recovers not. -Think you not, Master Sebald, that it would be well to take a litter and -return to your dwelling?" - -"Assuredly," replied Master Koerner, surprised and anxious at his -daughter's swoon. - - - Chapter V. - -On the way home Mina opened her eyes, but she remained mute and mournful. -But when, after she had been placed on a lounge in the lower hall of her -dwelling, she saw that her father was about to direct Johann to hasten the -arrival of a leech, she bent over to the old sculptor and retained him with -a hand cold as ice. - -"I would speak a word with Johann alone," she murmured. "Wilt thou permit -me, my father?" - -"Surely," replied the old man, fixing upon her a look of wonder, but -hastening to leave the chamber. - -Then Mina feebly called Johann, and made him a sign to sit at her feet. - -"Thou saidst one day, my good brother Johann," said she, "that thou wouldst -spare no effort, recoil from no risk to procure me joy or happiness." - -"So said I; so will I do," answered the poor youth, bending on her a look -full of emotion. - -"Then, Johann, thou canst preserve my greatest happiness, cause my greatest -joy. I know that I cannot deceive thee; I noted thy gaze when Hans Barthing -spoke of the marriage of Otho and Gertrude. Know then, Johann, that the -knight of Arneck is my true--my only love; and now I would know if he hath -betrayed me. It is peace of heart I need for my cure, Johann, and not the -skill of the leech. Depart then, good Johann, and go to Horsheim. There -thou wilt easily learn who is the countess's betrothed. And thou mayest -even, without being perceived, see them pass by together, speaking low, -walking hand in hand, believing themselves alone. Thou wilt return and tell -me all, Johann, and I will gain strength to live until thy return; for it -would be too bitter to die if Otho remaineth faithful. Thou wilt go--wilt -thou not, my brother--my only friend?" - -Johann's only reply was a kiss imprinted on Mina's hand and a silent -pressure of her taper fingers, while two great tears rolled from his eyes. -Then he departed from the House of the Angel, and, after having called the -physician, saddled his horse and left the town that very evening, following -the line of the high hills which stretched away toward the Rauhe Alps, at -the foot of which was the castle of Horsheim. - - - To be Continued. - ------- - -{494} - - - Original. - - - Forebodings. - - - Pretty Nan to Flora said, - "Prithee, why so gay?" - Dark-eyed Flora bent her head: - "_He_ is gone away." - - "Strange!" quoth Nan. "If 'twere my heart, - None could be more sad. - Absence gives the keenest smart. - Tell me, why art glad?" - - Dark-eyed Flora, with a sigh, - 'Gan to braid her hair, - Whilst to Nan she made reply: - "Hark! my sister dear. - - "Chanced it on a summer morn, - Laughingly I chose - These long tresses to adorn - With a beauteous rose. - - "Of the flower he made request, - I in wilfulness - Did refuse, and as a jest - Gave _it_ a caress. - - "But I did not long deny. - Said I: Plucked for you, - Take; but care it tenderly, - 'Tis my rose-love true. - - "Nameless was the pain and dread - Filled my aching heart. - Soon I saw my rose-love dead, - Idly torn apart. - - "Thus he would my heart's love fling - Coldly, idly by. - Than to wear his wedding-ring, - Rather would I die. - - "Ah! the cruel, ugly smart! - Fear my love did slay. - Pined I sadly in my heart - Till he went away. - - "'Gainst the power of his voice - All in vain I strove. - Freed by absence, I rejoice, - Now I dare to love!" - ------- - -{495} - - Abridged from The Dublin University Magazine. - - The Minor Brethren. - - - [The ensuing portion of an article from which we have stricken out the - remainder on account of its objectionable statements, although not - strictly in conformity with the Catholic view of the lives of the saints, - furnishes a graphic sketch of the life of St. Francis, and an evidence of - the approximation many Protestants are making toward a more candid and - reasonable view of Catholic subjects.--ED. C. W.] - - -The towns of Italy were in advance of those of other countries; many of -them were beautifully built, and celebrated for their wealthy and powerful -citizens. Such a town was Assisi in Umbria, and such a citizen was Pietro -Bernadone when his son Francisco was born--Francisco Bernadone, afterward -Pater Minorum, Pater Seraphicus, then St. Francis, with a place among the -saints in the hagiology of the church, now high up on stained-glass windows -of thousands of churches, in illuminated missals, imperishable in history, -and honored by men of all subsequent times and creeds as a great reformer -and benefactor to humanity, an ardent, enthusiastic Christian. We shall -contemplate the character and work of St. Francis as the "SALT" infused -into the world at one of those periods of its corruption, and in order to -do this we shall endeavor to delineate the man as clearly as we can from -the acts of his life and the emanations of his mind; then examine his great -work, and its effect upon the church in general, and upon that of our own -country in particular. - -We shall endeavor to portray St. Francis, the founder of the Friars Minors, -not according to the phantoms of imagination, or the caricatures of -prejudice, but from the records of his life, and still more efficiently -from his works and sayings. Fortunately the materials are ample. There is a -life of St. Francis, written by Thomas of Celano, the probable author of -the sublime mediaeval hymn, the "Dies Irae," and, as he was a follower and -an intimate friend of the saint, he writes with authority. At the command -of Gregory IX., he committed to writing his knowledge of the life of St. -Francis, which work was called the "Legenda." - -A second life was written by John of Ceperano; a third by an Englishman, -being a metrical version of that of Celano; a fourth by three companions of -the saint, (_a Tribus Sociis_,) Leo, Angelus, and Ruffinus, compiled -at the command of the minister-general of the order, Father Crescentius; a -fifth by the same Thomas of Celano, being a fuller sketch, at the request -also of Crescentius; and a sixth, written at the request of nearly the -whole order by St. Bonaventura, who, when a child, had seen the saint. - -All of these biographies are extant in the Acta Sanctorum, written in what -Carlyle would term "monk or dog Latin, still readable to mankind." -[Footnote 146] His works are scanty, but such as they are, they bear the -impress of the man's mind. It must be remembered that St. Francis made no -pretensions to being a scholar, a theologian, or an author; in fact, he was -a little inclined to deprecate these things; therefore, his literary -remains are only a few letters, hymns, addresses, colloquies, predictions, -and apothegms. - - [Footnote 146: Past and Present.] - -His father, though an avaricious man, yet lived in the profuse style -characteristic of the leading Italian merchants, and young Francisco was -brought up accordingly, so that his youth, up to the age of twenty-five, -was spent in vanity. -{496} -During that time, he excelled all his companions in gay frivolity, and the -vices common to a young man with a rich father, proud of his son. He was -the admiration of all, and led many astray by his example. He dressed in -soft and flowing robes, spent his time in jesting, wanton conversation, and -singing songs. Being rich, he was not avaricious, but prodigal; not having -to work for his fortune, he cheerfully set about spending that of his -father. - -An incident is recorded in the life by the three companions which is not -mentioned by Thomas of Celano nor Bonaventura.[Footnote 147] It is, that -during a disturbance between the citizens of Assisi and the people of -Perugia, young Francisco was captured, and, with others, placed in prison. -Whilst there his manner was so different from the rest, they being sad and -he more gay than ever, that they asked him the reason. "What do you take me -for?" said he. "I shall yet be adored all over the world." He spent nearly -a year in this durance, and, when peace was declared, returned to Assisi, -and devoted his attention to the sale of his father's wares, until his -conversion, which happened some years later. During the interval he fell -ill, and began to lament for the sin of his past life, and to make -resolutions of amendment. He recovered, and, with the recovery, the -penitence and the resolutions all vanished. - - [Footnote 147: It is alluded to, however, in the life of St. Columba - Reatina.] - -He pursued his former life until a circumstance happened which very nearly -changed his whole career. A certain nobleman of Assisi was about to -undertake a military expedition against Apulia, and young Francisco was -immediately fired with the longing to become a soldier. He had a mysterious -dream, which he misinterpreted into an encouragement. After making all -preparations, he set out and reached as far as Spoleto, where he had -another dream which convinced him of his mistake, and sent him back to -Assisi. From that time he began to reflect, and in the embarrassment of his -thoughts would retire into solitary places, and pray to God to guide him -and direct him what to do. - -He spoke in enigmas, and told his friends that he should not go to Apulia, -but would make his name famous at home. In reply, they demanded what were -his plans? was he going to take a wife? "I am"--said Francisco--"I am going -to take a more beautiful and noble wife than you have ever seen, who will -excel in beauty and wisdom all women." - -He now took to fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. The mysterious work had -commenced; his whole nature changed; he isolated himself from all his -companions, began to hear voices from heaven, to see visions, and to listen -to calls from the Invisible. - -Whilst in this state, he was one day returning from a neighboring market, -where he had sold some of his father's goods, and passed by the church of -St. Damian, which had fallen into ruins. A light flashed upon his mind. He -had previously, when praying in the fields, heard a voice say to him, -"Francis, go and repair my house," and therefore, without a moment's -hesitation, he entered the church, found the old priest, bowed before him, -kissed his hands, implored him to accept the money which he was taking -home, and permit him to remain there. The cautious priest allowed him to -remain, but refused to take his father's money, when Francisco, in a fit of -indignation, threw it aside contemptuously. - -By this time the father began to be uneasy about the fate of his eccentric -son and set out to make inquiries for him. Francisco then retired to a -neighboring cavern. Here he staid some time, but at last, resolving to -brave it out, he returned, wasted and wan, to Assisi. The people thought -him mad, and pelted him through the streets, when his father, hearing a -noise, went out, and, recognizing his son, seized him, dragged him home -chastised him severely, shut him up in a dark place, and firmly bound him, -that he might be safe till he returned from a journey he was about to take. - -{497} - -In the father's absence, however, the mother, after trying in vain to -reason with him, let him go, and he immediately returned to the church -where he had been hiding. His father, upon his return, upbraided his wife -for releasing his disobedient son, and resolved upon bringing the matter to -a settlement. - -To this end he went to the church, saw Francisco, and, finding him more -obstinate than ever, decided upon letting him have his own way, but, with -characteristic prudence, demanded the money from his son which he had -received for his goods. This being restored, he was appeased, and then -suggested that, as Francisco had devoted himself to poverty, he would not -require any patrimony, and might release his father from all claim upon -him. To this Francisco willingly consented. A formal document was prepared, -and the parties appeared before the bishop, when Francisco not only -renounced his inheritance, but, taking off his clothes, threw them to his -father, with these words: "Up to now I have called thee my father on earth, -but now I can securely say, My Father, who art in heaven." The bishop was -so delighted that he embraced him, and gave him his cloak. - -Thus was Francisco divorced from the world, from father, mother, and -kindred, and married to poverty, to whom from this time forth he devoted -his life. An incident is recorded of him here which was indicative of one -portion of his great work. He was out alone on a certain day, when a -wretched leper crossed his path. Francisco instinctively shrunk from the -sight, but, suddenly recollecting that his object was to subdue himself, he -ran after the leper, seized his hand, and kissed it. - -From that time he resolved to adopt the care of the lepers as a peculiar -portion of his work, and we find him shortly afterward entering the leper -hospital and devoting himself to their service, washing their sores with -his own hands, dressing them, and once even kissing them.[Footnote 148] -Then he returned once more to Assisi, the scene of his youthful revelry, -and in the garb of a mendicant begged in the streets from those who once -knew him in luxury, for money to rebuild the church of St. Damian, as he -felt the injunction to do so was still upon him. - - [Footnote 148: Bonaventura says: "Educebat plagarum putredinem et saniem - abstergebat."] - -His enthusiasm told upon men's minds, and money flowed in rapidly, so that -he not only rebuilt that church, but another also, St. Mary of Porzioncula, -which he then frequented, and to which he was ever afterward deeply -attached. One day when attending mass in this church, and the gospel was -read, the words, "Take nothing for your journey, neither staves nor scrip, -neither bread nor money, neither have two coats apiece," sank deep into his -soul. He went out of the church, took off his shoes, laid aside his staff, -threw away his wallet, contented himself with a small tunic and a rope for -a girdle, struck out for the strict apostolic rule, and endeavored to -persuade others to follow his example. - -The first instance of the mighty contagion of that example occurred in the -conversion of one Bernard de Quintavalle, a man of wealth and repute, who -came to Francisco, and offered himself and his all to him. The saint -proposed that they should go to the church of St. Nicholas and seek for -guidance. They did so, and, when the mass was over, the priest opened the -missal, after making the sign of the cross. The first response was, "If -thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor;" -the second, "Take nothing for your journey;" and the third, "If any man -will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow -me." "Let us obey the divine command," said Francis. Bernard immediately -did so to the letter, and adopted the same dress as his master. - -{498} - -Thus was the foundation laid of that great order of Minor Brethren. It is -possible that St. Francis, for we must call him now by his canonized name, -had not dreamt of such a thing as founding an order; but converts -increased; Peter of Catania and four others. Egidius Sabbatini, John de -Capella, and Sylvester were then added, and they all retired to a hut in -the plain of Rivo Torto. - -When they numbered eight, St. Francis gave them a solemn charge, and -dismissed them by twos in different directions to preach the gospel of -peace and forgiveness. They met after a short time, and, as their numbers -increased so rapidly, St. Francis drew up his first rule, which differed -very little from that of the Benedictines, save that it enjoined at the -outset a solemn injunction, ingeniously evaded afterward, that they should -have no property, but live in obedience and chastity. "Regula et vita -istorum patrum haec est scilicet vivere in obedientia et in castitate et -sine proprio." Their clothing was to be of the poorest kind; for novices -for one year, "duas tunicas sine caputio et cingulum et braccas et -caparonem usque ad cingulum;" for those who were finally admitted, "unicam -tunicam cum caputio et aliam sine caputio, in necesse, fuerit et cingulum -et braccas." No brother should be called "prior," but all should be termed -Minor Brethren, "fratres minores," and the one should wash the other's -feet. - -Humility was strictly enjoined. They were to live on charity; to beg their -bread if necessary, and not to be ashamed, but rather to remember that our -Lord Jesus Christ was not ashamed, was poor and a stranger, and lived on -charity, both he and his disciples. They were stringently cautioned against -women, or, as St. Francis ungallantly puts it, "A malo visu et frequentia -mulierum." Wherever they went, they were to remember that, and no one of -them was to counsel women in secret. They were to travel on foot; not to -have any beast, save from extreme infirmity, or the most urgent necessity. -[Footnote 149] - - [Footnote 149: Quod nullo modo apud se nec apud alium, nec aliquo modo - bestiam aliquam habeant.] - -Having drawn up this rule, St. Francis, with two or three of his followers, -went to Rome to procure the pope's sanction to the order. They met the pope -on a terrace of the Lateran Palace, and threw themselves at his feet. He, -annoyed at the interruption, turned away indignantly from these men with -bare, unwashed feet and coarse attire, and bid them begone. They retired to -pray, whilst Innocent III. in the night had a vision which induced him to -send the next morning for those strange men whom he had repulsed. He -received them graciously, approved of their rule, and they departed in joy -to Assisi. His march back was a triumph. The people came out to meet him -from the villages, and many deserted their homes to join him on the spot. -The next step taken by St. Francis was to make a modification in his rule: -he found many people were converted to his views, but from the ties of -children and business occupations could not possibly follow him. - -To meet such wants, he instituted what was called an Order of Penitents, by -which those who joined were compelled to pray, to fast, and to live -according to certain rules, and wore beneath their ordinary garb the -penitential girdle. This Order included both sexes, and people of all -classes. One member of it was, however, destined to greater things, the -young and beautiful Clara, a daughter of the house of Ortolana. She had, -from childhood, been brought up most religiously by her mother, and the -weird eloquence of St. Francis finished the task. - -An interview was arranged, and the saint suggested an elopement, which was -successfully effected, and Clara was abducted by St. Francis to the church -of Porzioncula. Many other young ladies soon followed, and it was then -necessary to institute new rules for these fair converts. -{499} -The church of St. Damian, which St. Francis had rebuilt, was turned into a -convent, with Clara (who was afterward canonized as St. Clara) as its -abbess. A letter is extant in the works of the saint, which runs as -follows: "Francis, to his very dear Sister Clara, and the Convent of the -Sisters of St. Damian, health in Christ. Because by the inspiration of our -Lord ye have made yourselves daughters and handmaidens of the Highest, of -the most high King and heavenly Father, and have betrothed yourselves to -the Holy Spirit to live according to the teaching of the gospel; it is my -will, and I promise that I and my brethren will have always for you the -same diligent care and special solicitude as for ourselves. Farewell in the -Lord." - -In the year 1216, the first general council of the new order was held in -the Porzioncula, when Tuscany, Lombardy, Provence, Spain, and Germany were -assigned to the principal followers of St. Francis as mission grounds. The -saint himself took France as his own field of operations. At this point a -meeting took place between St. Francis and one who stands in the church -almost on an equality with him, Dominic, the founder of the order of Friars -Preachers. - -Three years after the first, the second council was held, and a grand sight -it was--five thousand brethren encamped around the church. To this great -body, infused with the spirit of one man, Ugolino was introduced, and made -such a flattering speech, and gave such glowing predictions of their future -power and glory, that St. Francis became alarmed, and quickly perceived -that, if the protector were allowed to have free play, he would soon ruin -his charge. He therefore interfered, reiterated the severity of their rule -which forbade all dreams of glory or power, told them they must always be -the Minor Brethren, the poor of the world, and after redistributing them -amongst several countries, broke up the assembly never more to venture on -another gathering into one spot of such inflammable materials. When they -were all dispersed, their great founder went upon a holy mission to the -army then under the walls of Damietta. He advised the Christians not to -engage with the Saracens, and predicted their defeat if they did, but the -army were too eager for plunder and bloodshed. They engaged, and six -thousand slaughtered Christians fulfilled the prophecy. - -Then St. Francis resolved upon taking a step which made his name still more -famous in history. Confiding his project to only one, who was to accompany -him, Illuminatus [Footnote 150] by name, St. Francis, although a reward was -set upon the head of every Christian, wandered up to the lines of the -enemy, was seized, and taken before the sultan. Strange to say, instead of -ordering him to be executed, the sultan received him courteously, listened -to his preaching patiently, and asked him to remain with him in his tent. -St. Francis replied, "I will remain willingly with you, if you and your -people will only become converted to Christ; but if you doubt, order a fire -to be kindled, and I will enter into it with your priests, and see who is -right." The sultan, who had perceived that one of the chief priests had -vanished at these words, replied: "I do not think any of my priests would -submit to the torture for the sake of their religion." Then said St. -Francis: "If you will promise for yourself and your people to adopt the -Christian religion if I come out uninjured, I will enter it alone." The -sultan, however, declined, and after vainly offering rich presents to St. -Francis, sent him back in safety to the Christian camp. - - [Footnote 150: It is sometimes stated that St. Francis went alone, but - the lives by St. Bonaventura, by the Tres Socii, and by St. Thomas of - Celano, all mention this Illuminatus as his companion.] - -{500} - -After this memorable interview. St. Francis returned, preaching in all the -countries as he passed through. One day after his return, as he was praying -in the church of St. Mary, Porzioncula, a vision of our Saviour appeared, -and promised that, to all who should thereafter confess their sins in that -church, plenary remission should be granted. St. Francis immediately went -to the pope at Perugia, and procured the granting of the indulgence, in -consequence of which a ceremony is held to this day annually, in the church -of St. Mary of the Angels, when the peasantry assemble to confess their -sins and receive the promised indulgence. - -Then comes the last great tradition of his life--the receiving the -stigmata. It is recorded, and firmly attested by the great men who wrote -his biography, that, on a certain morning, at the hour of the holy -sacrifice, when St. Francis was praying on the side of Mount Avernia, Jesus -Christ appeared to him under the form of a seraph crucified on the cross, -and when the vision had disappeared, St. Francis was marked with the wounds -of Christ in his hands, his feet, and his side. - -Various grave discussions arose amongst the faithful about the truth of -this legend. Only nineteen years after its presumed occurrence a Dominican -preacher had declared openly his disbelief of it, but then he was a -Dominican. The Bishop of Olmutz, however, followed in the wake, when Pope -Gregory IX. (Ugolino of old) wrote, reproaching them with their want of -faith; and Alexander IV., who succeeded, declared he had seen with his own -eyes the stigmata of St. Francis. - -Shortly after this incident, St. Francis sickened, and, exhausted by long -fastings and vigils, wasted gradually, until, as Bonaventura says, he was -only skin and bone--"quasi sola cutis ossibus cohaereret." One day, during -his illness, a companion said to him: "Brother, pray to God that he may -have mercy upon thee, and not lay his hand so severely upon thee." St. -Francis reproved him for such a speech, and, though he was very weak, threw -himself on the ground, and, kissing the earth, said: "I thank thee, O Lord -God, for all my pains; and I pray thee, if it be thy will, multiply them a -hundred-fold, because it will be most acceptable to me; for the fulfilment -of thy will in me will be my supreme consolation." And his brethren noticed -that, as his bodily pains increased, his joy was greater. He predicted the -day of his death, and begged to be carried to his beloved Porzioncula, that -he might yield up his spirit at that spot where he had first received -divine grace. It was done, and he insisted upon being laid naked upon the -bare ground, when he turned to his companions and said: "I have done my -part; what yours is, may Christ teach you." When his last hour was come, he -had all the brethren on the spot called to him, addressed them kindly on -preserving their vows of poverty, and upholding the faith of the Catholic -Church; he then laid his hands upon them, and pronounced his blessing upon -all present and absent. "Farewell," said he, "all my sons; be strong in the -fear of God, and remain in that always; and since future temptation and -tribulation are near, blessed are they who continue in the things they have -begun. But I hasten to God, to whose grace I commend you all." Then he -called for a copy of the gospels, and asked them to read him that of St. -John, beginning at the words, "Before the day of the passover," etc., when -he suddenly broke out into the psalm: "Voce mea ad Dominum clamavi, voce -mea ad Dominum deprecatus sum," continued to the words, "Me expect justi -donec retribuas mihi," when, as they died away on his lips, the spirit of -the great founder passed gently out of his poor emaciated body, and -returned to its Maker. - -Thus died St. Francis, in the odor of sanctity; and perhaps we cannot more -appropriately conclude this brief outline of his life than by giving a -translation of a sketch of his character and personal appearance, as -written by one who knew him, Thomas of Celano, the author of the Dies Irae. -{501} -It forms a graphic portrait of the man, and may serve as a fair specimen of -hagiography. In his life of the saint, he thus writes: - - "Oh! how beautiful, how splendid, how glorious did he appear in the - innocence of his life, in the simplicity of his words, in the purity of - his heart, in his love of God, in brotherly charity, in fragrant - obedience, in angelic aspect! Gentle in manners, placid in nature, - affable in conversation, faithful in undertakings, of admirable foresight - in counsel, able in business, gracious to all, serene in mind, gentle in - temper, sober in spirit, stable in contemplation, persevering in grace, - and in all things the same; swift to indulge, to anger slow, free in - intellect, in memory bright, subtle in dissertation, circumspect in - choice, simple in all things; rigid toward himself, pious toward others, - discreet to everybody; a most eloquent man, of cheerful aspect, and - benevolent countenance, free from idleness, void of insolence. He was of - the middle stature, rather inclined to shortness; his head was of the - medium size, and round, with an oblong and extended face, a small smooth - forehead, black and simple eyes, dark brown hair and straight eyebrows; - his nose was thin, well proportioned, and straight; his ears erect and - small, and his temples were smooth; his tongue was placable, though fiery - and sharp; his voice was vehement, though sweet, clear, and sonorous; his - teeth well set, regular, and white; his lips of moderate size; his beard - was black, and not very thick; his neck thin; his shoulders straight, - with small arms, thin hands, long fingers and nails; he had thin legs, - small feet, a delicate skin, and very little flesh. He wore a rough vest, - took very little sleep, and though he was most humble, he showed every - courtesy to all men, conforming himself to the manners of every one. As - he was holy amongst the holy, so amongst sinners he was as one of them." - [Footnote 151] - - [Footnote 151: Thomas de Celano in Vita Sti. Francisci. Acta Sanct.] - -Before we advance further, we must say a few words upon a subject well -known to all who have investigated the originals of ecclesiastical -history--the miracles attributed to the saints. Their biographies are -spangled with miracles--that of St. Francis especially. The Acta Sanctorum -is a compilation of some fifty or sixty folio volumes, containing sometimes -five or six different lives of each saint, written by men in different ages -and countries, ranging from the eighth to the fourteenth century. All these -writers unite in one thing, the ascription of miraculous powers to the -saints. The question then arises, can this be wholly and entirely false? -can it be utterly without one grain of truth in it?--a tissue of falsehoods -wilful, wanton falsehoods consistently written by men at vastly different -times, and in remotely distant countries? We must premise at once that we -are not for a moment going to defend the absolute truth of the wonders -attributed to the saints. We do not believe for an instant that their -bodies were sometimes lifted from the earth, and carried up into the sky, -like St. Francis; or that they walked dry-footed over the sea, as did St. -Birim, when he left the corporalia behind him at Boulogne; nor that -commands and directions were given them direct from heaven, through the -medium of crosses, images, or pictures; but we cannot help reflecting as to -whether it is possible for such a systematic body of history to be handed -down to posterity in one continuity of falsehood for some eight or nine -centuries; or whether we may come to the conclusion that it is a -superstructure of exaggeration built up upon some basis of truth. It may -help us, perhaps, at the outset, to notice what were the characters of the -writers of these lives; were they men likely to be deluded by fanaticism, -or likely to lend themselves to the perpetration and perpetuation of wanton -falsehood? - -{502} - -If we turn over the volumes of the Acta Sanctorum, we shall find, on the -contrary, some of the brightest names in the annals of literature, piety, -and philanthropy; some of the deepest scholars, the most acute reasoners, -the most elaborate thinkers recorded in the annals of fame; of men whose -works have been and still are the guiding lights of theological and -philosophical investigation. There are Bridferth, Eadmer, Lanfranc, Anselm, -William of Malmesbury, Thomas à Kempis, Bonaventura, and many others, all -distinguished for intellect and piety. Some of them, too, were honored by a -personal acquaintance with the subjects of their memoirs, as in the case of -Bridferth, the contemporary of Dunstan, of Eadmer of Anselm, of Thomas of -Celano and St. Francis. Can it be that these scholars, trained to -philosophical investigation--these profound thinkers--these holy -archbishops and bishops should connive together to delude posterity with a -tissue of lies--of wanton lies, which might have been easily contradicted -by contemporary writers, many of whom were bitter enemies both of the -writers and their religion? Yet we find no such contradiction. - -We have plenty of contemporary history handed down tolerably perfect as -regards incidents, dates, accurate reports of great councils, descriptions -of battles and sieges, lives of statesmen, warriors, and scholars, with -views of both sides, debated, refuted, or confirmed. And are we to believe -that in this matter of the lives of the saints only have all contemporary -writers, friends and foes, scholars, holy men, great benefactors of their -age, conspired successfully together to hand down an enormous fabric of -falsehood, and at the same time secure the silence of all contemporary -history? This is the great difficulty. - -A distinguished English writer, the elder D'Israeli, has endeavored to -account for these strange tales in the lives of the saints by suggesting -they were written as exercises and religious theses, when each student -filled up his outline with all the wonders he could invent to invest his -subject with greater glory. That is a theory accepted by many who are -already prejudiced toward its acceptation; but it is a frivolous theory, to -which we object the improbability of these great men, whose names are -already mentioned, being set down, some of them in the maturity of their -lives, to write religious exercises of that nature. Is it not rather -possible that there may be something in all this history which we can -neither understand nor explain? - -Let us examine for a moment into what we may venture to call the natural -history of miracles. We find the Bible itself is an immense repertoire of -miracles from Moses down to the apostles, and it contains no distinct -announcement of a withdrawal of that power from the church. It was -confirmed by Christ, who endowed his apostles with the same power, and who -said one or two things in his addresses to them which, we think, will throw -some light upon this vexed question. - -It is quite certain that there have never been any miracles wrought in the -world by any who did not receive the power from God. We are not prepared to -estimate what degree of change was produced in the relations between man -and God by the fall; we are certain of this, that a gap was placed between -the two, so wide that Christ was sent to bridge it over; that an apostasy -ensued, and a disunion so complete that his death alone was able to provide -the means of reunion and reconciliation. Then it follows that faith was the -only possible mode to man of recovery of what was lost by man; faith before -the promise and faith after its fulfilment, and in the proportion of the -strength of that faith, and the consequent change of life in the heart and -nature of him who possessed it, was the reunion with God promised. But how -does this bear on miracles? In this way. Turn to the Bible, and it will be -seen that of every man who is recorded to have performed miracles, it is -also recorded that he had this immovable faith, and that his life was -ordered accordingly. -{503} -Faith, prayer, and fasting have ever been the elements of the life -necessary to miracles, and we are not prepared, nor are we able to estimate -what would be the result of such a course of severe discipline as some of -the saints went through toward a recovery of that lost union with God. It -is a singular fact that, in the life of Christ, we find it was only after -his fasting and prayer in the wilderness that he began to perform miracles, -as though during that severe trial of temptation, fasting, and prayer the -perfect union between himself and his Father had been sealed by the final -gift of miraculous power. And thus was it that, when in after times his -disciples were unable to cast out the devils, and appealed to him for the -reason of their inability, he replied, "This sort goeth not out but by -fasting and prayer;" and we are told elsewhere that the disciples of Jesus -did not fast. So that we find in the Bible there is a close connection -between the active development of the spiritual, and the subjugation of the -corporeal life, and the working of miracles. - -All the prophets led that life, they were given to prayer, fasting, and -solitude. It was the peculiar life of Jesus; retired to the mountains, the -deserts, and by-places for prayer, and he attributed the miraculous power -to the results of this life. [Footnote 152] Is it, then, possible for a man -by strong faith, accompanied by fasting and prayer, in these later days to -regain that close, mysterious communion with his Maker which should give -him a supernatural power? We reply that we have not the means of answering -the question, for the simple reason that we never have an opportunity of -seeing it tried. Without wishing to insinuate anything invidious, have we -any record in ecclesiastical or other history, of bishops, priests, or men -of any class during the last 400 years spending whole nights in prayer, or -consecutive days in fasting, such as we read, upon indisputable authority, -was the practice in the olden times of the prophets, and the later times of -men who devoted their lives to the imitation of Christ? [Footnote 153] - - [Footnote 152: In the life of St. Francis we are told that "solitaria - loca quaerebat," "una die dum sic sequestratus oraret," "cum die quadam - egressus ad meditandum in agro," "dum per sylvam iter faciens."] - - [Footnote 153: Our Protestant fasts are a "lucus a non lucendo," - consisting of fish of various descriptions, curiously prepared by the - protean art of cookery, with very substantial adjuncts, and accompanied - by good wine. No miracles were ever wrought upon that diet.] - -There are plenty of hints scattered throughout the Bible and Testament that -there is a mysterious connection yet to be recovered between man and God, -if men will only fulfil the required condition, and we repeat that it is -not in our power to estimate the results of such a life as we have -mentioned--a life of spiritual discipline, of development of the soul, and -subjugation of the body--because we have no examples around us; but we ask, -if such life were pursued, what is there to prevent our believing that to -some extent the words of our Divine Master, who led that life himself, -would yet be verified, and "this sort" would still "go out through fasting -and prayer"? Nay, further, we may add in illustration that the phenomena -which are recorded as attending the careers of such men as Whitefield, -Wesley, and Irving have never yet been explained away by any scientific -theory or law; so that, in conclusion, as we find in the Bible an emphatic -and reiterated record of miraculous power accorded to persons of a certain -habit of life and thought, as our Lord, when on earth, attributed that -power to the pursuing of that peculiar life--as in every instance where -miracles are attributed to men, they are proved to have led such lives--it -cannot be thought too much to suggest that, making great deductions and -allowances for exaggeration, there may be some basis of truth underlying -that fabric of historical and traditional record of the lives of the -saints. - -Many of those incidents described so mysteriously are capable of -explanation. It is often recorded of these men that they saw visions and -heard voices. -{504} -For instance, it is said of St. Francis that, on one occasion, when he was -long praying in a solitary place, the Lord appeared to him as if on the -cross, and so visible was this [Greek text] to him that ever afterward, -when any thought of Christ's sufferings came into his mind, he could not -help bursting into tears; also, that one night the Lord appeared to him, -and said, "Francisce, quis potest melius facere tibi dominus aut servus?" -And again, on another occasion, "Francisce, vade et repara domum meam." -Within the range of our own experience, who is there amongst us who has not -had similar visions in the slumbers of the night, or heard similar voices -in the day? Have we not had sweet converse with dear departed friends, and -heard voices that have long been silent? What bereaved mother has not often -heard the cry of her lost infant, or solitary widow seen the form of a lost -husband in the phantasms of the night? If such things happen to ordinary -men, we submit that we are unable to estimate the result of the mode of -life and the severity of spiritual training which those men underwent, -because it is foreign to our habits, and not within the range of our -experience. - -We now proceed to give a brief criticism upon the intellect of St. Francis. -He has left very little behind him. Only a few sermons, hymns, letters, and -sayings, from which we can glean that he must have been an earnest preacher -of the true popular type, driving home his truths by familiar -illustrations, the type of that peculiar preaching which rendered his order -so popular, and paved the way for their marvellous success. We subjoin a -few extracts, which illustrate not only his style, but the design of his -order. In one of his epistles he says: [Footnote 154] - - [Footnote 154: Ep. ii. Ad universes Christi fideles.] - - "Let us not be wise and prudent according to the flesh, but simple, - humble, and poor; and let us hold our bodies in contempt, because we are - all miserable and putrid; as the Lord says through the prophet, I am a - worm and not a man. We should never desire to be above others, but - subjected and submissive to every human creature, for the sake of God. - And upon all who do so, and persevere unto the end, the holy spirit will - rest, and make in them his tabernacle and his mansion, and they shall be - sons of the heavenly Father, whose works they do, and shall be the - brides, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. Brides are we, - since faithful souls are joined to the Holy Spirit; brothers are we of - Jesus Christ, when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven; mothers - are we, when we bear him in our hearts and bodies through love, and bring - him forth by the sacred operation of our example, which ought to shine - before others. Oh! how glorious and great to have a Father in heaven! Oh! - how holy to have a betrothal of the Spirit! Oh! how sacred, how - delightful, well pleasing, peaceful, sweet, loving, desirable above all, - is it to have a brother who has laid down his life for the sheep, and has - prayed his Father for us, saying, 'Father, keep through thine own name - those whom thou hast given me. Father, all those whom thou hast given me - in the world are thine, and thou hast given them to me, and the word - which thou hast given me I have given them, and they have received it, - and know well that I came from thee, and have believed that thou hast - sent me. I pray for them: I sanctify myself, that they may be sanctified - as we are. And I will, O Father! that where I am there they may be also, - and see my glory in my kingdom.'" [Footnote 155] - - [Footnote 155: We translate from the Latin of St. Francis, which is - somewhat different from our version.] - -A graphic picture of a death-bed scene follows soon after the above -beautiful passage in the same epistle. - -{505} - - "The body droops, death draws near, relatives and friends come, and say, - 'Arrange thy house.' And behold, his wife and his sons, his relatives and - friends, pretend to weep; and he, looking up, sees them weeping, and is - moved, and says, my soul and my body, and all my goods, I place in your - hands. Verily, that man is cursed who deposits his soul, his body, and - all his goods in such hands; or, as the Lord says by the prophet, cursed - is that man who places his trust in man. And then they send for the - priest, who says to him, 'Dost thou wish to receive absolution from all - thy sins?' he replies, 'I do.' Wilt thou make restitution from thy - substance for those things which thou hast obtained through fraud and - deception?' He says, 'No.' 'Why not?' asks the priest. 'Because I have - divided all amongst my relations.' And then his speech begins to fail, - and he dies miserably. But let all men know that wherever any man dies in - sin, without making satisfaction, which he can, but will not make, such a - demon seizes his soul, and drags it from the body with such agony that no - one can conceive who has not experienced it. And all his money, power, - and knowledge, which he thought he had, are taken from him; and his - relations and friends, to whom he has given his goods, take them, and - divide them, and then say, Cursed be his soul, who might have given us - more, and did not; who might have hoarded more, and did not. Worms - destroy his body, demons his soul; and thus he loses both soul and body - for the sake of this brief life." - -Humility, deep and sincere, was the great characteristic of his life. He -was in his own words, "Franciscus parvulus et vester servus in Domino;" -"Homo vilis et caducus;" "minus servorum;" "indigna creatura Domini." Being -asked, one day, why he wore such scanty clothing in the depth of winter, he -replied, "If we are clothed within with the flame of our heavenly country, -we shall easily bear this external cold." One of the brethren asked him why -he scarcely took anything to sustain nature. "Because," said St. Francis, -"it is difficult to satisfy the necessity of the body without indulging the -longing of the senses." - -On an occasion a brother asked him if he might have a psalter. "When you -have got a psalter," replied St. Francis, "then you will want a breviary; -and when you have got a breviary, you will sit in your chair as great as a -lord, and you will say to your brother, 'Friar, fetch me my breviary.'" -There was a competition amongst the brethren as to who should bring in the -greatest number of female devotees, when St. Francis checked their ardor by -the caustic remark, "I am afraid, my brethren, that when God forbade us -wives the devil gave us sisters." Here we must take our farewell of the -saint. Willingly would we devote more space to him; but we have much yet to -say about his work, especially as it influenced the destinies of our own -land. He was a great man, an enthusiast in the highest sense of the word; -his character and career remind us forcibly of John the Baptist; his food -was locusts and wild honey, his raiment was scanty, he was a voice crying -in the wilderness of a wicked world, and his name will last for ever. - -But we advance to investigate the doings of the order in England. At the -second general chapter held by St. Francis, at Porzioncula, in the year -1219, when the brethren were divided into parties and sent out on their -missions, England was one of the first mission stations assigned. France -was the first, then came England, chiefly, it is thought, through the -influence of an Englishman, one William, who was a follower of St. Francis. -The honor of leading this mission was assigned to Brother Angnello -[Footnote 156] de Pisa, who was made minister-general of the order in -England. - - [Footnote 156: _Angnellus_ sic, in Eccleston MSS., and in - Monumenta Franciscana.] - -His authority was as follows: "Ego Frater Franciscus de Assisio minister, -generalis praecipio tibi Fratri Angnello de Pisa per obedientiam, ut vadas -in Angliam et ibi facias officium ministeriatus. Vale. Anno 1219. -Franciscus de Assisio." [Footnote 157] - - [Footnote 157: Collectanea Anglo-Minoritica, p. 5.] - -{506} - -They were also fortified with letters recommendatory from Pope Honorius, -addressed to all "archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and other prelates -of the church," enjoining them to receive the bearers as Catholics and true -believers, and to "show them favor and courtesy." The actual date of their -landing in England is disputed. Eccleston in his MSS., "De Primo Adventu -Minorum," gives the year 1224, but the more probable date is 1220, which is -given by Wadding, the annalist of the order, and confirmed by Matthew -Paris, who under the year 1243 speaks of the Friars Minors, "who began to -build their first habitations in England scarcely _twenty-four_ years -ago." As they had no money of their own, and lived upon what was given -them, they were transported to England from France by the charity of some -monks of Fécamp. They were nine in number, four clergymen and five laymen. -The former were Angnellus, a native of Pisa, Richard de Ingeworth, Richard -of Devonshire, and William Esseby. The laymen were Henry de Cernise, a -native of Lombardy, Laurence de Belvaco, William de Florentia, Melioratus, -and James Ultramontanus. They landed at Dover and proceeded to Canterbury, -where they were hospitably received and staid two days at the Priory of the -Holy Trinity. Then four of them set out for London to present the -apostolical letters to Henry III., who received them very kindly, which, as -they did not want any money, he would be most likely to do. - -The other five were housed at Canterbury at the Priests' Hospital, where -they remained until a place could be procured for them; such accommodation -was found in a small chamber beneath the school-house, where they remained -shut up all day, and at evening, when the scholars had gone home, they -entered the room, kindled a fire, and sat round it. The four monks who went -to London were kindly received by the Dominicans, with whom they staid a -fortnight, until one John Travers hired a house for them in Cornhill, which -they divided into cells by stuffing the interstices with straw. - -The citizens, at the instigation of one Irwin, who afterward became a lay -brother, removed them to the butchery or shambles of St. Nicholas, in the -Ward of Farringdon-within, close to a place called Stinking-lane, where -they built a convent for them. The foundations were laid at Christmas, -1220, and it was five years in course of building. The different portions -were built by different citizens. William Joyner built the choir, William -Walleys the nave, Alderman Porter the chapter-house, Bartholomew de -Castello the refectory, Peter de Haliland the infirmary, and Roger Bond the -library; even in those days the citizens, when they did anything in the way -of charity, did it royally. Two brethren, however, were sent on to Oxford, -where they were also kindly received by Dominican friars, according to -Eccleston; but a story is told in the annals of the order of the two -brethren who were making their way toward Oxford, when they came to a sort -of manor-house, about six miles from Oxford, which was a cell of -Benedictine monks, belonging to the abbey of Abingdon. - -Being very hungry and tired, they knocked at the gate; and the monks, from -their strange dress and extraordinary appearance, taking them for -masqueraders, admitted them, hoping for some diversion. But, when they -found they were a new order of friars, they turned them out of doors; but -one, more gentle than the rest, went after them, brought them back, and -persuaded the porter to let them sleep in the hay-loft. Both versions may -be right, as the circumstance occurred outside Oxford; and Eccleston's -account commences with their advent in that city when they were received by -the Dominicans, with whom they remained for about eight days, until a rich -citizen, Richard Mercer, let them a house in the parish of St. Ebbs. Then -the two brethren go on to Northampton, where they were received into an -hospital. They procured a house in the parish of St. Giles, over which they -appointed one Peter Hispanus as guardian. - -{507} - -Then they went to Cambridge, where the townspeople gave them an old -synagogue, adjoining the common prison; but afterward, ten marks being -given them from the king's exchequer, they built a rough sort of oratory on -a plot of ground in the city. After that another settlement was made in -Lincoln, and gradually in many other cities; so that in thirty-two years -from their arrival they numbered 1242 brethren in forty-nine different -settlements. Their first convert was one Solomon, of good birth and -connections. - -When only a novice, he was appointed procurator of his house; that is, he -had to go out to beg for it. The first place he went to was the residence -of a sister, who gave him some bread, with the following remark: "Cursed be -the hour when I ever saw thee!" So strict was their poverty, that one of -the brethren being ill, and they having no means to make a fire, got round -him, clung to him, and warmed him with their bodies, "sicut porcis mos -est." [Footnote 158] - - [Footnote 158: Eccleston de Adventu Minorum.] - -They walked about barefooted through the snow, to the horror of the -spectators. Brother Solomon injured his foot so severely that he was laid -up for two years; and whilst ill the Lord appeared to him, accompanied by -the apostle Peter. And by way of contrast, we are told shortly after that -the devil appeared to one Brother Gilbert de Vyz, when he was alone, and -said to him, "Do you think to avoid me? At least you shall have this," and -threw at him a fistful of vermin, and then vanished: "et projecit super eum -plenum pugillum suum pediculorum et evanuit," so states Master Eccleston. - -The second convert was William of London; then followed Jocius of Cornhill, -a clerk, who went to Spain, labored, and died; John, another clerk; Philip, -a priest, who, being a good preacher, was sent to Ireland, and died there. -Then came several magistrates, amongst whom were Walter de Burg, Richard -Norman, Vincent of Coventry, Adam of Oxford; but one of the greatest -accessions was in the person of Adam Marsh, better know as Adae de Marisco, -who was destined to found that distinguished school at Oxford which boasts -such names as Scotus, Occam, Roger Bacon, and others. Adam was called -Doctor Illustris. After him came John of Reading, abbot of Ozeneyae, and -Richard Rufus. Then came some military men, Dominus R. Gobion, Giles de -Merc, Thomas Hispanus, and Henry de Walpole. - -As their numbers continued to increase, people built churches and convents -for them in all parts of the country. The master of the Priests' Hospital -at Canterbury built them a chapel; Simon de Longeton, archdeacon of -Canterbury, helped them; so Henry de Sandwyg, and a certain noble lady, -Inclusa de Baginton, who cherished them in all things, as a mother her -sons: "quae sicut mater filios sic fovit eos in omnibus." - -Angnellus now set out upon an inspection of the different settlements, and, -after pausing for a time at London, came on to Oxford, where, as things -were promising and converts gradually coming in, he founded a community, -over which he placed William Esseby as guardian of the house, which -Ingeworth and Devonshire had hired. Adam of Oxonia joined the company, and -then Alexander Hales, whom St. Francis, it is thought, admitted in the year -1219, as Hales passed through France on his way to England. Angnellus then -conceived the idea of having a school of friars at Oxford, and built one -near their house. He then addressed himself to Doctor Robert Grostete, one -of the most distinguished lecturers in the university, to beg him to -instruct the brethren. Grostete consented, and the school was soon thronged -with ardent Franciscan converts, who listened with delight to the lectures -of that man who, as bishop of Lincoln, was destined to such a glorious -career. - -{508} - -And now Angnellus was instant in encouraging the brethren to attend the -lectures, and make progress in the study of the Decretals and canon law; -and as he found them very diligent, he thought he would honor them with his -presence at one of their meetings and see how they progressed; but when he -arrived there, he was horrified, to hear that the subject under discussion -by these young monks was whether there was a God!! _Utrum esset Deus_! -Frightened out of his propriety, the good man exclaimed: "Alas! alas! -simple brethren are penetrating the heavens, and the learned dispute -whether there may be a God!" [Footnote 159] It was with great difficulty -they calmed his agitation. He only submitted upon their promise that, if he -sent to Rome for a copy of the Decretals, they would avoid such mighty -questions, and keep to them. - - [Footnote 159: "Hei mihi, hei mihi, fratres simplices coelos penetrant - et literati disputant utrum sit Deus." See Wood, Antiq. Oxon, lib. i. - p. x.] - -The first Franciscan who taught in the school was William Eton, under the -direction of Grostete, who was not a Franciscan: he was succeeded by Adam -de Marisco, who is sometimes called the first of the order who taught; he -was, however, the first who taught alone, the others teaching under the -direction of Grostete. Sixty-seven distinguished men filled this chair, -some of whose names have been immortalized. - -The influence of the study of Aristotle was telling vitally upon the -theology of the schools. At first his writings were studied through very -imperfect translations made from the Arabic, with Arabic commentaries--then -a mixture of Neo Platonism was infused, and the devotees of scholastic -theology at Paris fell into such errors that the study of his works was -prohibited by the synod of that place in the year 1209. Six years afterward -this prohibition was renewed by the Papal Legate; but as men began to find -that there was a great difference between the philosophy of Aristotle, -filtered through Arabic commentators and Arabic translators, and Aristotle -himself, a revival took place in favor of the Stagyrite, and Gregory IX., -in 1231, by a bull modified the restriction. New translations were now made -and purged from errors. - -A new era in scholasticism commenced; the two rival orders, the Dominicans -and Franciscans, began to apply the Aristotelian method to theological -questions; Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas [Footnote 160] taking the -lead in the former order, in opposition to the teaching of Alexander -Hales.[Footnote 161] the Franciscan, who lectured at Paris. Bonaventura -[Footnote 162] endeavored to amalgamate scholasticism with mysticism; but -at length appeared John Duns Scotus, [Footnote 163] who lectured at Oxford, -Paris, and Cologne, a Franciscan, and worthy opponent of the Dominican, -Thomas Aquinas. We must not omit another distinguished member of the Oxford -school who flourished at the same time, Roger Bacon, [Footnote 164] perhaps -the most distinguished man of the age. - - [Footnote 160: Doctor Angelicas.] - - [Footnote 161: Doctor Irrefragabilis.] - - [Footnote 162: Doctor Seraphicus.] - - [Footnote 163: Doctor Subtilis.] - - [Footnote 164: Doctor Mirabilis.] - -He taught at Oxford. He, however, saw the prominent errors of the -disputation of the times, and has left on record, in the preface to his -Opus Majus, the following criticism, which is worthy of attention: "There -never was such an appearance of wisdom, nor such activity in study in so -many faculties, and so many regions, as during the last forty years; for -even the doctors are divided in every state, in every camp, and in every -burgh, especially through the two studious orders, (Dominicans and -Franciscans,) when neither, perhaps, was there ever so much ignorance and -error. The mob of students languishes and stupefies itself over things -badly translated; it loses time and study; appearances only hold them, and -they do not care what they know so much as what they seem to know before -the insensate multitude." - -{509} - -Again, in lib. ii., he says: "If I had power over the books of Aristotle, I -would have them all burnt, because it is only a loss of time to study in -them, a cause of error and multiplication of ignorance beyond what I am -able to explain." We must give Roger Bacon the credit of speaking more -particularly of the wretched translations in use, though his view of -Aristotelian philosophy was strangely confirmed centuries afterward by his -still greater namesake, Lord Bacon, who said, after many years of devotion -to Aristotelianism, that it was "a philosophy only strong for disputations -and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the benefit of -the life of man." Thus were ranged under two scholastic standards the two -great orders of mendicant friars, the Dominicans and the Franciscans; the -former being called Thomists, and the latter Scotists. A fierce doctrinal -controversy then raged between them, the animosity of which was heightened -by a jealousy which had always existed on the part of the Dominicans from -the time when St. Francis rejected their founder's overtures to unite the -two orders. - -In the year 1400 England maintained and included sixty convents; and at the -time of the dissolution, the Franciscans alone of the mendicant orders had -ninety convents in England, besides vicarships, residences, and nunneries. - -To a generation of men who had heard no preaching, or, if any, nothing they -could understand, the enthusiastic discourses of these men were like -refreshing showers on a parched soil; for in the thirteenth century the -sermon had fallen into such disuse that an obscure and insignificant -preacher created a great sensation in Paris, although his preaching was -rude and simple. Both doctors and disciples ran after him, one dragging the -other, and saying, "Come and hear Fulco, the presbyter, he is another -Paul." [Footnote 165] The Franciscans diligently cultivated that talent, -and from the general favor in which they were held by nearly all classes of -the community, especially by the common people, we may conclude that the -style they adopted was essentially a popular and engaging style, in direct -contradistinction to the scholastic discourses delivered at rare intervals -from the pulpits of the churches. Then a Franciscan mingled amongst the -poor; he too was poor, one of the poorest, and the poor saw their condition -elevated to an apostolic sanctity; his raiment was coarse like theirs; his -food also as coarse, for it was their food shared often with him at their -own tables; they sat at his feet and listened to him, not in trembling -servitude, as at the feet of one whom they had been taught to regard with -superstitious awe, but as at the feet of a dear brother, one of themselves, -who had hungered with them and sorrowed with them. - - [Footnote 165: Vide Jacobi, a Vitriaco Hist. Occident, c, 6.] - -Then the Franciscan preached everywhere--at the street corner, in the -fields, on the hill-side; his portable altar was set up, the sacrament -administered to the people, and the gospel preached as in the old apostolic -times, by the river-side, in the high roads and by-ways, under the bare -heavens. No wonder that they won the hearts of the degraded populations of -the countries in which they settled, that the poor ran to them and flocked -round them, and that the good and great were soon drawn over to their side; -it was the revival of apostolic simplicity, and as the excited crowds were -swayed under their fervent eloquence, and myriads of tearful eyes were -turned up to their gaze, it was like the miracle in the wilderness, the -rock had been smitten, and the waters gushed forth. - ------- - -{510} - - - The Souls of Animals - - -A number of years ago, when the census enumerators were going through -Canada, they found an old lady in Quebec, who, to the question what -religion she professed, replied that she believed in the transmigration of -souls. To what particular form of the doctrine she clung; whether she -believed, with the sages of the Ganges, that the soul begins its life in -the mineral or vegetable world, and must pass through no fewer than -eighty-eight progressive stages before it rises to human consciousness; or, -with the priests of the Nile, that the spiritual part of a man has lived -for three thousand years in the forms of lower animals before it gets a -human body; whether she was a Pythagorean, or a Neo-Platonist, or a -Cabalist; whether she refused animal food for fear of eating unwittingly -the flesh of some deceased friend or relative, and could not see a roast -chicken without thinking of a cannibal; these are curious questions which -we fear will never be answered. Plato believed in ten grades of migrations, -each of a thousand years, in which souls were purified and punished before -their return to an incorporeal existence with God; and the more virtuously -they lived, the fewer grades they had to pass through. For a good, honest -philosopher, about three grades were thought sufficient. Porphyry taught -that bodies themselves are punishments imposed upon souls for offences -committed in a previous state of which we retain no consciousness. A gross, -sensual, very material body indicated a very criminal career in the -previous existence. A virtuous life led by degrees through the states of -heroes, angels, and archangels; and an archangel, if he behaved himself, -might hope to be absorbed, in the course of time, into the divine essence -itself; while for the wicked there was a similar but descending scale of -transformations into devils of various degrees of moral blackness. The -Cabalists held that God created originally a certain number of Jewish -souls, some of which are still on earth in human form, while there are -always many others doing penance for their sins in the bodies of animals. -So they were careful, we trust, in their treatment of dumb beasts, not -knowing but any pig or jackass they encountered might be a Jew in disguise. -A conscientious Cabalist would not dare turn a dog out of doors, for fear -he might be kicking his grandfather, and ought to shun fish, flesh, and -fowl as religiously as he would object to dining off a blood relation. The -great Christian philosopher, Origen, himself believed in the transmigration -of the souls of men into the bodies of the lower animals; and adopted this -doctrine as the readiest way of explaining why there are so many -imperfections in animated nature; the divine Creator purposely made animals -imperfect, because he meant that bodies should be the instruments of -punishment and expiation for sinful souls. The Gnostics, and Manichaeans, -and some other heretical sects, had the same idea, and it was also a part -of the doctrine of the ancient British Druids, as it is at the present day -of the Druses and other tribes of Asia, as well as of some of the African -nations. Fourier allowed the soul no fewer than eight hundred and ten -lives, each of them averaging a hundred years in duration, and it was to -pass one third, or twenty-seven thousand of all these years, on our earth. -When all the transmigrations had been accomplished, the soul was to lose -its separate existence, and become confounded with the soul of the planet. -But the French philosopher did not stop here. -{511} -The body of the planet was to be in its turn destroyed, and its soul to -transmigrate into a new earth, rising by successive stages to the highest -degrees in the hierarchy of worlds. - -Which of these many systems of metempsychosis was the one embraced by the -eccentric old lady of Quebec we have, as we said before, no means of -deciding, nor perhaps, since she appears to have founded no school of -disciples, is the problem worth investigation. We can imagine what a -singular position the solitary adherent of that old pagan creed must have -occupied in the society of the quaint French city; how pious Catholics must -have stared at her with mingled awe and horror as a relic of the times of -Pythagoras and Plato, or perchance as an Indian Buddhist some centuries -old, whom Time in his flight had forgotten to gather into his garner, where -all her kith and kin had been laid asleep for ages. It was certainly a very -uncomfortable belief, and, if it ever became general, it would play the -mischief with family relations. Just think of the possibility of a man's -being his own grandmother or his own posthumous son! It may have had its -conveniences, but, upon the whole, we are glad it has died out. - -We once heard an accomplished theologian maintain that, however -philosophically absurd that doctrine might be, and however inconsistent -with the spirit of Catholic teaching, there was yet no dogmatic decision -which forbade a man's holding it, if he chose to be such a fool. A man -might be a good Catholic and still believe that one of God's ways of -punishing sin was to imprison the offending soul after death in the body of -a beast; this might be a sort of purgatory. Perhaps he was right; but so we -might say there is no article of faith which forbids us to believe that the -moon is made of green cheese, that the earth is flat instead of round, that -the Rocky Mountains are five thousand miles high, or that King Arthur was -the first President of the United States. There is a sort of -transmigration, however, in which reputable Catholic theologians are not -altogether unwilling to believe; and this brings us to the statement of a -fact which, for all that it is admitted by the mass of authorities on such -subjects, will, no doubt, sound paradoxical to a great many of our readers; -that is, that dumb beasts, if they have not borrowed the souls of human -beings, have, at any rate, souls of their own. In our loose way of talking -about things, we are but too apt to speak of the soul as one of the -distinguishing prerogatives of man, and reason as another; whereas the fact -is that man shares both these in common with the brute kingdom. Every -animal has a soul, though not an immortal soul; and all the higher -animals--probably _all_ animals--are gifted to a greater or less -extent with reason. Deny souls to beasts, and you reduce them to a level -with the vegetable creation, in which life and motion are merely the -necessary operations of external laws which the plant has no power either -to further or obstruct. Nor need we fear that, by admitting they have -souls, we raise them too near an equality with ourselves. The divine gift -of immortality, the power of knowing and loving God, the right to -participate in his everlasting glory--these are distinctions which must -separate us by an immeasurable gulf from all inferior creatures. If beasts -have no souls, it will puzzle us to define the exact difference between a -dead dog and a live one. - -But we have wandered away, from our speculations about metempsychosis, and -are apparently in danger of forgetting the proposition which we set forth -in the last paragraph, namely, that there is a certain kind of -transmigration of souls in which many good theologians seem very much -inclined to believe. It is an open question whether the souls of animals -pass from body to body; whether, for instance, when a dog dies, its soul is -annihilated, or is transferred to the body of another brute just that -moment born; whether the souls of the lower orders of creatures have only -the brief life which appears to be granted them, or whether their existence -may not be prolonged to the end of this world. -{512} -It certainly accords with what we know of the divine economy, in which -everything has its permanent use and no created object seems ever to be -destroyed, to suppose that, after a soul has performed its functions in the -body of one beast, it may be designed by Almighty God to perform similar -functions in the body of another. The plant which springs up, and blossoms, -and withers, returns to life in other forms; a part of it is consumed as -food and passes into the tissue of animals; a part crumbles away into -vegetable mould and is assimilated by the parent earth; a part, dissolving -into the constituents of the atmosphere, serves to nourish and increase -other plants. The animal body itself, which decays and is changed to dust, -is destined to live again in other shapes. Modern science has discovered -that not even a motion is lost. The blow of the hammer which is struck upon -the anvil is perpetuated in one form or another through all time. The heat -of the fire which blazes for an hour and is then extinct was not created at -the moment the fire was kindled, and will not be lost when the fire goes -out. The sum of all the forces which act in nature is constant, -unchangeable. Heat, electricity, magnetism, chemical action, may be -expended and apparently lost, but it is only to manifest themselves in -other ways. Nothing, in a word, seems to be destroyed, and, so far as our -knowledge enables us to judge, God has never annihilated any material -object which he has once created. And if matter is thus preserved through -various changes, processes of decay and processes of renovation, why should -not spirit be likewise kept in existence? The soul of man, after it leaves -this body, has still eternal functions to perform in another world, either -of punishment or of reward. What objection is there, then, to believing -that the incorporeal part of the brute has permanent use in this world as -long as the world endures? - -Perhaps when we have learned to look upon the brute soul as something -rather more honorable than we have been wont to regard it; as something -which it is quite possible (we won't say probable) God may have designed to -last till the very end of time, and not as the creature of one short day, -we may be prepared to recognize in its true dignity the brute's power of -reason, which seems naturally to follow from the possession of a soul. It -is a common fallacy to distinguish the intelligent faculty in man as -reason, and in dumb animals as instinct. The truth is, reason and instinct -are two things quite different in kind; neither takes the place of the -other, and each of them belongs both to man and to beast. Without aiming at -strict philosophical accuracy, we may define reason as the faculty by which -we weigh the relations of things, and freely and deliberately choose what -we deem eligible, and reject what we consider hurtful. Instinct is an -innate force or impulse inciting us under certain circumstances to act in a -certain way. For example, if a man walking on a plank should feel it -unexpectedly shift under his feet, he would catch at the nearest object, or -endeavor to balance his body by stretching out his hands. These acts would -be acts of instinct, done on the impulse of the moment, before reason had -time to consider whether they ought to be done or not. Max Müller has some -excellent remarks on this subject in his Lectures on the Science of -Language. Instinct, he observes, is more prominent in brutes than in man; -but it exists in both, as much as intellect is shared by both. "A child -takes his mother's breast by instinct; the spider weaves its net by -instinct; the bee builds her cell by instinct. No one would ascribe to the -child a knowledge of physiology because it employs the exact muscles which -are required for sucking; nor shall we claim for the spider a knowledge of -mechanics, or for the bee an acquaintance with geometry, because _we_ -could not do what they do without a study of these sciences. -{513} -But what if we tear a spider's web, and see the spider examining the -mischief that is done, and either giving up his work in despair, or -endeavoring to mend it as well as may be? Surely here we have the instinct -of weaving controlled by observation, by comparison, by reflection, by -judgment." Brutes indeed have all the faculties which pertain to reasoning -beings. They have sensation, perception, will, memory, and intellect. They -see, hear, taste, smell, and feel, just like ourselves. They experience -sensations of pleasure and pain, a dog that is fondled or chastised -behaving exactly as a child would behave under the same circumstances. They -are able to compare and distinguish; they show signs of shame and pride, of -love and hatred. To admit all this, and deny that they have souls and -reason, is merely to dispute about terms. - -An interesting little book has just been published in England on The -Reasoning Power in Animals, by the Rev. John Selby Watson, and we purpose -giving our readers a few illustrative anecdotes from this work, together -with some instances that have fallen under our own observation, -confirmatory of the principles we have stated in the preceding pages. - -Seneca denied memory to beasts. When a horse, he says, for instance, has -travelled along a road and is brought the same way again, he recognizes it; -but in the stable he remembers nothing of it. This, however, cannot be -proved. Almost every one has seen a dog dreaming, and acting over in his -dreams what he has done in his waking moments. If he thinks of events and -places in his sleep, why should he not think of them awake? And if a dog -can think of them, why cannot a horse? The stories of the memory of -elephants are numberless. One of these animals was being exhibited some -years ago in the west of England, when a practical joker among the -spectators dealt out to him in small quantities some gingerbread nuts, and, -after he had secured the elephant's confidence, presented him with a large -parcel weighing several pounds. The beast swallowed it at once, but, -finding it too hot, roared with pain, and handed his bucket to the keeper, -as if asking for water, and, as soon as he had quenched his thirst, hurled -the bucket with great force at the joker's head, fortunately missing his -aim. A year afterward the elephant returned to the same place, and among -the spectators was the joker, again provided with sweet cakes and hot -cakes. He gave the elephant two or three from the best packet, and then -offered a hot one. But no sooner had the animal proved the pungency of it -than he seized the coat-tails of his tormentor, and whirled him aloft in -the air, until, the tails giving way, he fell prostrate to the ground, half -dead with fright. The elephant then quietly inserted his trunk into the -pocket containing the best nuts, and, with his foot on the coat-tails, -leisurely despatched every one of them. When he had finished, he trampled -the hot nuts to a mash, tore the coat-tails to tatters, and flung the rags -at the discomfited joker. The old story of the elephant revenging himself -by spirting dirty water over a tailor who had wounded him with a needle is -too well known to be repeated. A similar story is related in Captain -Shipp's Memoirs. The captain had given an elephant cayenne pepper with -bread and butter, and six weeks afterward the animal remembered it and -punished Captain Shipp by drenching him with dirty water. - -Dogs have excellent memories, and every child is familiar with narratives -of their recollecting murderers and leading to their detection. The -celebrated story of the dog of Montargis, who killed the assassin of his -master; of the dog who pointed out to Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, two soldiers -who had slain his master, as related by Plutarch; of the dog of Antioch, -commemorated by St. Ambrose; and of a dog who, according to Giraldus -Cambrensis, in the thirteenth century, fought a public combat with a -suspected murderer, a sort of wager-of-battle, in fact, in which the dog -proved his case, are examples of this memory. -{514} -Benvenuto Cellini had a watch-dog that drove away a burglar who tried one -night to break into the house, and some time afterward recognized the thief -in the street and seized him. A lady removing from Poitou to Paris left a -spaniel behind her. Ten years afterward she sent some clothes packed by -herself to the person who had charge of the dog. The little creature no -sooner smelt them than he gambolled round them and showed every mark of -excessive joy. - -The horse has an excellent memory both for persons and places. He never -forgets a road he has once travelled. A horse accustomed to be employed -once a week on a journey with the newsman of a provincial paper always -stopped at the houses of the several customers, sixty or seventy in number. -There were two persons on the route who took one paper between them, and -each claimed the privilege of having it first on the alternate Sunday. The -horse soon became accustomed to this regulation; and, though the parties -lived two miles apart, he stopped at the door of each in his regular turn. -Here was certainly a very remarkable exercise of memory. A wonderful -example of the use of the same faculty is seen in the facility with which -animals that have been carried away from home find their way back. The -writer had a Newfoundland slut which was sent away with one of her pups a -considerable distance by railroad, shut up in a box-car. A fortnight -afterward Jet and her offspring were found at their old home, foot-sore and -half starved. How they had made their way back over roads which they could -only have seen in occasional glimpses from the door of the car always -remained a mystery. But far more wonderful instances of canine memory than -this are on record. A terrier that was taken from Arundel to London in a -close cart, and tied up in the evening in a yard near Grosvenor square, was -found at Arundel, sixty miles distant, the following afternoon. A Scotch -dog having been taken to Frankfort, and having there seen its master -drowned in the Oder, after having made ineffectual efforts to save him, -found its way from Frankfort to Hamburg, from Hamburg to Hull, and from -Hull to Edinburgh. Lord Lonsdale sent two hounds from Leicestershire to -Ireland, and at the end of three weeks they reappeared in Leicestershire. A -Mr. Edward Cook, having lived some time with his brother at Togsten in -Northumberland, came to America, bringing with him a pointer dog, which, -while shooting in the woods near Baltimore, he lost. Some time afterward -Mr. Cook's brother, who continued to reside at Togsten, was aroused one -night by the barking of a dog, which, on being let in, proved to be the -lost pointer. He remained there until his master came back from America. By -what vessel he had made his way across the Atlantic was never ascertained. -The persistency with which cats will return to places from which they have -been sent away is well known. Lord Brougham, in his Letters on Instinct, -mentions one that was taken to the West Indies, and on the return of the -ship to London, found her way through the city to Brompton, whence she had -been taken. Mrs. Lee tells the following story in her Anecdotes of Animals: - - "When living at Four Paths, Clarendon, Jamaica, I wanted a cat, and had - one given to me which was nearly full-grown. It was brought from Morgan's - Valley estate, where it was bred, and had never been removed from that - place before. The distance was five miles. It was put into a canvas bag, - and carried by a man on horseback. Between the two places there are two - rivers, one of them about eighty feet broad and two and a half deep, and - over these rivers there are no bridges. The cat was shut up at Four Paths - for some days, and when considered to be reconciled to her new dwelling - she was allowed to go about the house. -{515} - The day after obtaining her liberty she was missing, and upon my next - visiting the estate she was brought from, I was quite amazed to learn - that the cat had come back again. Did she swim over the rivers at the - fords where the horse came through with her, or did she ascend the banks - for a considerable distance in search of a more shallow place, and where - the stream was less powerful? At all events, she must have crossed the - rivers in opposition to her natural habits." - -A farmer living on the borders of the New Forest in Hampshire, bought a -mare near Newport, in the Isle of Wight, and took it home with him, -crossing to the main-land in a boat. During the night the animal escaped -from the enclosure in which the farmer had fastened it, and made its way -home again, swimming across the strait. The nearest distance from the -Hampshire coast to the Isle of Wight is five miles. A cow which had been -sent to grass at a place twenty-one miles from her owner's residence -remained there contentedly all summer; but, as soon as the grass began to -fail, travelled home to her old pasturage. A cow was separated from her -young calf and driven twelve miles to Smithfield to be sold, but early the -next morning she was found at home, having escaped from the market and made -her way through all the intricacies of London. Dr. John Brown, in one of -his inimitable dog-papers, gives an instance of a dog finding his way home -from a distance, under circumstances which almost seem to justify his -notion that the canine race have an idea of humor. A Scottish shepherd, -having sold his sheep at a market, was asked by the buyer to lend him his -dog to take them home. "'By a' manner o' means take Birkie, and when ye'r -dune wi' him just play so,' (making a movement with his arm,) 'and he'll be -hame in a jiffy.' Birkie was so clever, and useful, and gay, that the -borrower coveted him; and on getting to his farm shut him up, intending to -keep him. Birkie escaped during the night, and took the entire hirsel -(flock) back to his own master! Fancy him trotting across the moor with -them, they as willing as he." - -There are some well-authenticated instances of animals finding their way -home by roads they never travelled before which are difficult of -explanation. In March, 1816, an ass, the property of Captain Dundas, R. N., -was shipped at Gibraltar on board the Ister frigate, bound for Malta. The -vessel having grounded off Point de Gat, the animal was thrown overboard to -give it a chance of swimming ashore--a poor one, for the land was some -distance off and the sea running very high. A few days afterward, however, -when the gates of Gibraltar were opened in the morning, the ass presented -himself for admittance, and proceeded to a stable which he had formerly -occupied. He had not only swum ashore, but, without guide, compass, or -travelling map, and with no previous knowledge of the route, had travelled -from Point de Gat to Gibraltar, a distance of more than two hundred miles, -through a mountainous and intricate country intersected by streams; and he -had done it in so short a time that he could hardly have made single false -turn. What directed him on this wonderful journey it is impossible to -conjecture, unless we suppose that he had the good sense to follow the line -of the coast; and that he should have known that such a course would lead -him home certainly argues a very large share of the reasoning faculty. In -point of fact, however, there is a curious and incomprehensible instinct -for finding the way which belongs not only to the lower animals, but to man -himself in the savage state. The migrations of birds afford familiar -examples of it, swallows especially, returning year after year to build -their nests in the same place. Two or three years ago six swallows were -taken from their nests at Paris, and conveyed to Vienna, where a small roll -of paper with a few words written on it was affixed to the wing of each; -and they were let go one morning at a quarter past seven. Two arrived at -Paris a little before one; one at a quarter past two; and one at four. -{516} -The other two did not return at all, having perhaps met with some mishap. A -falcon was taken from the Canaries to Andalusia and returned in sixteen -hours, a distance of six hundred miles. Salmon are supposed to return in -all cases to the river where they were bred. Crabs may be carried two or -three miles out to sea, and they will find their way back to their old -haunts. Mr. Jesse, in his Gleanings in Natural History, relates an -extraordinary story of a tortoise which was captured at the Island of -Ascension in the South Atlantic, and carried with several others to -England. It had lost one fin, and was consequently named by the sailors the -Lord Nelson. The voyage was very long, and most of the turtles died, and as -the Lord Nelson seemed sickly when they drew near port, the sailors, in -order "to give it a chance," threw it overboard in the English Channel, -after it had been branded in the usual way, with certain letters and -numbers burnt upon its under shell with a hot iron. Wonderful to relate, -the same turtle was taken at the Island of Ascension two years afterward, -having found its way three thousand five hundred miles through the watery -waste to that little speck in the midst of the ocean. The unerring -certainty with which bees fly in a straight line to their hives is -proverbial, and bee-hunters discover the nests by catching two of the -insects, carrying them to some distance apart, and letting them go. Each -will at once take a straight line toward the nest, and by observing these -lines and calculating where they ought to intersect, the honey is found. -This instinct is the more remarkable as bees are very near-sighted, not -being able, it is supposed, to see more than a yard before them. We have -mentioned that savages have something of the same instinct, finding their -way for long distances, not always by their acuteness of observation, but -by an indescribable faculty which is like nothing so much as the instinct -of birds. Mr. Jesse tells a story of a traveller in Australia, who lost his -way in the interior, and was guided by one of the natives more than a -hundred miles in a straight line to the place he wanted to reach. The -savage, he was assured, could have led him almost as well blindfold, for he -travelled as accurately when the sun was obscured as when it was visible, -and was not assisted by marks on the barks of trees, or any of the other -familiar landmarks of the wilderness. Our own frontiersmen have the same -faculty to a greater or lesser degree. We ourselves, on two occasions, -after a long day's hunt in the far West, in which we followed the game -through so many twists and turns as to lose all idea of the points of the -compass, were conducted by a trapper twelve or fifteen miles back to camp, -on a perfectly dark night, across an utterly trackless prairie. There was -neither tree, nor hill, nor footprint to mark the way, but our course was -as straight as the bee flies. The trapper could not explain how he did it: -it was by a species of instinct. The Newfoundland slut Jet, mentioned on a -preceding page, once found her way to the writer's house, under -circumstances which indicated the exercise of reason much more unmistakably -than the instances just cited. The family were about moving from one house -to another some two miles distant; but as the new dwelling was not ready -for occupation when the lease of the old one expired, the furniture was -stored in the neighborhood, and we all went away for a few weeks, leaving -Jet behind. When we came to take possession of the new house, we found Jet -there before us, although nothing belonging to us had yet been carried to -the premises, and, so far as we knew, she had never been there in our -company. Another dog belonging to us had been there, however, once or twice -with one of the servants, and Jet perhaps had learned the secret from him. -But it certainly showed great mental acuteness in the animal that she -should not have followed the furniture, knowing apparently that it was only -stowed away for a time, but, by putting this and that together, should have -found out where her master meant to establish himself. - -{517} - -The power of putting this and that together is emphatically a reasoning -faculty; in other words, it is the power of tracing the relation between -cause and effect. The literature of natural history abounds in examples of -the possession of this faculty by animals, and so does the experience of -every one who has ever kept dogs or horses. Jet had it to an eminent -degree. When she was about to bring forth a litter, she always tried to dig -a cave for them under the steps of the front door. This, of course, was -forbidden, but she was resolute, and many a time she had her cavern nearly -finished before she was detected. The bell-wire passed under the steps, so -that in the course of her digging she was very apt to ring the bell, and it -was some time before the servants found out whence the mysterious ringing -originated; but, when the secret was discovered, Jet was pulled out and -punished. Punishment did not break her of the habit; indeed, she was an -incorrigibly obstinate dog, and never was broken of any trick she once set -her mind upon; but after that, whenever she heard the bell, she ran out of -the hole and hid at the corner of the house until the coast was clear, when -she would go back to work, taking more pains to avoid the wire. If her -master was at home and suspected who rang the bell, he often answered the -door himself, and looking toward the side of the house he was sure to see -Jet peeping cautiously round the corner with such a mischievous and comical -expression in her eyes that he rarely refrained from a hearty laugh; -whereupon the dog would pluck up heart, and come forward, grinning and -apologizing, as if to say, "I am very sorry I've given you so much trouble; -I didn't know it was wrong, and I won't do so again." She was a dreadful -liar, (for dogs can lie with their eyes and faces, as well as men can lie -with their tongues.) but it was all very funny. Her understanding the use -of a door-bell reminds us of a story told of an Italian greyhound at -Bologna, which was accustomed every morning to visit a dog of its own -species at a neighboring house. At first it used to wait in the street -until the door was opened, but after a time it learned to use the knocker. -Mr. Nassau Senior, in one of his articles in The Quarterly Review, gives an -instance from his own knowledge of the way in which a terrier used to -obtain admission to the common-room at Merton College, Oxford, whose sacred -threshold, be it known, dogs are strictly forbidden to cross. "The animal's -cunning," says Mr. Senior, "would have done honor to an Old Bailey -attorney." We give the narrative in his own language: "It happened one -evening that a couple of terriers had followed their masters to the door, -and while they remained excluded, unhappily followed the habits rather of -biped than of quadruped animals, and began to quarrel like a couple of -Christians. The noise of the fight summoned their masters to separate them, -and as it appeared that the hero of our tale had been much mauled by a -superior adversary, the severe _bienséances_ of the place were for -once relaxed, and he was allowed to enjoy during the rest of the night the -softness of a monastic rug and the blaze of a monastic fire, luxuries which -every initiated dog and man will duly appreciate. The next day, soon after -the common-room party had been assembled, the sounds of the preceding -evening were renewed with tenfold violence. There was such snapping and -tearing, and snarling and howling, as could be accounted for only by a -general engagement: - - 'The noise alarmed the festive hall, - And started forth the fellows all.' - -But, instead of a battle royal, they found at the door their former guest, -in solitude sitting on his rump, and acting a furious dog-fight, in the -hope of again gaining admittance among the _quieti ordines deorum_. -{518} -We have heard that he was rewarded with both the _grandes_ and the -_petites entrées_; but this does not rest on the same authority as the -rest of the narrative." - -Mr. Watson's book abounds with other instances of intelligence in animals, -which it is almost impossible to avoid attributing to the operation of -reason. He gives an anecdote, for instance, of an elephant which, seeing an -artillery-man fall from the tumbril of a gun, in such a situation that in a -second or two the wheel of the gun carriage must have gone over him, -instantly, without any warning from its keeper, lifted the wheel with its -trunk and kept it suspended until the carriage had passed clear of the -soldier. Here the elephant manifestly reasoned for himself. A still more -remarkable manifestation of the reasoning faculty is recorded of an animal -of the same species. An elephant in a menagerie was trained to pick up -coins with his trunk. On one occasion a sixpence was thrown down which fell -a little beyond his reach (he was chained) and near the wall. After several -vain attempts to pick it up, he stood motionless a few seconds, evidently -considering how to act; he then stretched his proboscis as far as he could -in a straight line, a little distance above the coin, and blew with great -force against the wall. The blast of air, rebounding from the wall, caught -up the sixpence and drove it toward him, as he evidently intended it -should. Another elephant was once seen to blow a potato which was just -beyond his reach against the wall, and catch it when it rebounded. The -ingenuity displayed in these cases is something akin to the use of tools -which has been declared a characteristic of man alone. This, however, is a -mistake. The club which the gorilla is known to wield with such terrible -power, the palm-branches with which elephants brush away flies, the stones -which monkeys and even birds have been seen to use either in breaking open -shells or keeping them distended while they extracted the shell-fish--what -are these but tools? Foxes have been seen to set cods' heads as baits for -crows, and pounce upon the birds when they came to eat them. The ingenuity -of rats in getting at toothsome morsels is well known; there are many -instances of their using their tails to extract oil from narrow-necked -bottles--all these cases being equivalent to the use of tools. A -Newfoundland dog at Torquay, wanting water, took a pail from the kitchen -and carried it to the pump, where he sat down until one of the men-servants -came out, to whom he made such significant gestures that the man pumped the -pail full for him. The most remarkable part of the story is that, when the -dog had finished, he carried back the pail to the place in the kitchen from -which he had taken it. That was something all the same as a tool which the -eagle of St. Kilda, mentioned by Macgillivray, used when, attacking two -boys who had robbed her nest, she dipped her pinions first in water and -then in sand, to give greater force to the blows which she struck with -them. A rat has been seen conducting a blind companion by means of a stick, -each of the animals holding one end of it in his mouth. Cats have often -been known to learn the use of a latch; and a terrier pup, only two months -old, belonging to the writer of this article, has so good an idea of the -purpose of the same article that he manifests a desire to get out of the -room by ineffectual jumps at the door-handle. A London pastry-cook had a -number of eggs stolen from a store room at the top of the house; a watch -being set for the thief, two rats were detected carrying an egg downstairs. -One of the rats, going down one step, would stand on his hind-legs with his -fore paws resting on the stair above, while the other rolled the egg toward -him; then, putting his fore-legs tightly round it, he lifted it down to the -step on which he was standing, and held it there till the other came down -to take charge of it. Rats have been known to convey eggs up-stairs by a -somewhat similar process. - -{519} - -A very clear example of reasoning occurs in a story told of a water-hen, -which, having observed a pheasant feed out of a box which opened when the -bird stood on a rail in front of it, went and stood in the same place as -soon as the pheasant quitted it. Finding that its weight was not sufficient -to raise the lid of the box, it kept jumping on the rail to give additional -impetus. This only succeeded partially; so the clever bird went away and -fetched another of its own species, and the weight of the two had the -desired effect. An anecdote is told by Mrs. Lee of a magpie which is almost -enough to persuade one that the creature had the gift of language. The bird -used to watch about a neighboring toll-gate at times when he expected the -toll-keeper's wife to be making pastry; and, if he observed her so -employed, he would perch upon the gate and shout, "Gate ahoy!" when, of -course, if her husband were absent, she would run out to open it; the bird -would then dart into the house and carry away a billful of her pie-crust, -eating and chattering over it with the greatest glee. Surely no one will -deny that in this case the bird exercised the faculty of reason. - -Somewhat analogous to this case are the many stories related of animals -apparently understanding what is said in their presence. In reality they -probably have no conception of the meaning of the words uttered, but their -keenness of observation enables them to detect slight changes in the tone -of voice and notice little things which escape our coarser vision; and from -trifling signs they draw reasonable conclusions. The writer had a cat which -always knew when the servant was told to fetch food for her, though the -experiment was often tried of giving the order in various tones of voice -and without any look or sign that would be likely to attract pussy's -attention. During our last war with England there was an old Newfoundland -dog on board the British ship Leander, stationed at Halifax. He had been -attached to the ship several years, and the sailors one and all believed -that he understood what was said. He was lying on the deck one day when the -captain in passing remarked: "I shall be sorry to do it, but I must have -Neptune shot, he is getting so old and infirm." The dog immediately jumped -overboard and swam to another ship, where being taken on board he remained -till he died. Nothing could ever induce him to go near the Leander again, -and if he happened to meet any of her boats or crew on shore, he made off -as fast as he could. - -Animals certainly have the power of communicating thoughts to each other, -as the following story proves: "At Horton, in Buckinghamshire, (a village -where Milton passed some of his early days,) about the year 1818, a -gentleman from London took possession of a house, the former tenant of -which had moved to a farm about half a mile off. The new inmate brought -with him a large French poodle, to take the duty of watchman in the place -of a fine Newfoundland dog which went away with his master; but a puppy of -the same breed was left behind; and he was incessantly persecuted by the -poodle. As the puppy grew up, the persecution still continued. At length he -was one day missing for some hours; but he did not come back alone; he -returned with his old friend, the large house-dog, to whom he had made a -communication; and in an instant the two fell upon the unhappy poodle and -killed him before he could be rescued from their fury. In this case the -injuries of the young dog must have been made known to his friend, a plan -of revenge concerted, and the determination formed to carry the plan into -effect with equal promptitude." Count Tilesius, a Russian traveller, who -wrote at the beginning of the present century, tells a wonderful anecdote -of a dog of his which had been sadly worried by a larger and stronger -animal. For some days it was observed that he saved half his food and laid -it up as a private store. -{520} -When he had accumulated a large supply, he went out and gathered around him -several dogs of the neighborhood, whom he brought to his home and feasted -on his hoard. The singular spectacle of a dog giving a supper-party -attracted the count's attention, and he determined to watch their -proceedings. As soon as the feast was over, they went out in a body, -marched deliberately through the streets to the outskirts of the town, and -there, under the leadership of their entertainer, fell upon a large dog and -punished him severely. This incident not only shows that dogs can -communicate their thoughts to one another, and can follow out a fixed plan -of action, but it looks very much as if they had what is generally supposed -to be peculiar to man--namely, some idea of a bargain. They can be -magnanimous in their behavior toward their fellows, and the measures which -large dogs occasionally adopt to get rid of the annoyance of little curs -display a great deal of judgment and good feeling. In Mr. Youatt's book, On -the Dog, we have a story of a Newfoundland dog in the city of Cork which -had been greatly worried by a number of noisy curs. He took no notice of -them until one carried his presumption so far as to bite him in the leg, -whereupon the large animal ran after the offender, caught him by the back -of the neck, and carried him to the quay. There, after holding him -suspended over the edge for a few moments, he dropped him into the river. -But he had no purpose to inflict more than a mild punishment, for after the -cur had been well ducked and frightened and was beginning to struggle for -his life, the Newfoundland dog plunged into the water and brought him safe -to land. That animal certainly showed good sense, a good heart, and a -lively appreciation of what was just and proper. A very comical example of -a dog's feeling of propriety is quoted by Mr. Watson from Jesse's Gleanings -in Natural History. "A gentleman going out shooting obtained the loan of a -pointer from a friend, who told him that the dog would behave very well as -long as he killed his birds: but that, if he frequently missed, it would -leave him and run home. Unhappily the borrower was extremely unskilful. -Bird after bird was put up and fired at, but flew off untouched, till the -pointer grew careless. As if willing, however, to give his client one -chance more, he made a dead stop at a fern bush, with big nose pointed -downward, his forefoot bent, and his tail straight and steady. In this -position he remained firm till the sportsman was close to him, with both -barrels cocked; he then moved steadily forward for a few paces, and at last -stood still near a bunch of heather, his tail expressing his anxiety by -moving slowly backward and forward. At last out sprang a fine old black -cock. Bang, bang, went both barrels, but the bird escaped unhurt. This was -more than the dog could bear; he turned boldly round, placed his tail -between his legs, gave one long, loud howl, and set off homeward as fast as -he could." - -Perhaps, after all, one of the most curious exhibitions of reason is -afforded by the crows, which, in the northern parts of Scotland and in the -Faroe Islands, hold extraordinary meetings every now and then, apparently -for the purpose of judging and punishing evil-doers among their community. -The sessions are sometimes prolonged two or three days; and as long as they -last, flocks of crows continue to arrive in great numbers from all quarters -of the heavens. In the mean while, some of the assembly are active and -noisy; others sit with drooping heads as grave as judges. When the -gathering is complete, a very general noise ensues--we are tempted to call -it _talking_--and then the whole body fall upon one or two individuals -and put them to death. Justice thus vindicated, the convention straightway -disperses. -{521} -Now, the crows show every appearance of having been summoned to these -councils; indeed, it is almost inconceivable that they should meet by -chance; but how the summons is given; how they know when all have arrived; -what are the offences they punish; whether the criminals know the fate that -awaits them, and are restrained by force from making their escape; and how -the knowledge of the crime is dispersed amongst the whole assembly--these -are curious questions to which we fear no satisfactory answer will ever be -given. The idea of hundreds of birds sitting in deliberation, like a court -of justice, is indeed marvellous. We can only say that the narrative, as we -have given it, seems to be well authenticated, and we leave our readers to -draw their own conclusions. - -We think we have quoted anecdotes enough to prove that brutes have souls -and reason; or, if they have not, that they are much more wonderfully made -than man, since they can perform without assistance from the reasoning -faculty actions which in us require the exercise of the highest -intelligence. And although we do not go to the length of saying, with the -Rabbi Manasseh of old, and Dr. John Brown, the author of Spare Hours, in -our own day, that there is a next world for the brute creation; and do not -believe with another modern writer (the Rev. J. G. Wood) that divine -justice absolutely requires that God should make amends to animals in the -future life for the sufferings they endure in this--perhaps our readers -will agree with us that we have shown it to be no ways impossible that God -may have designed the souls of dumb beasts to outlast in this world their -perishable bodies; that the intelligent part of the sagacious dog may -animate a long succession of Rabs and Pontos; and the spirit of the dead -pet may return into bodily form to delight new generations of masters. - ------- - - From The Month. - - The Gladiators' Song. - - - Round about this grim arena, by the ghosts of thousands haunted, - Beckoned by our slaughtered comrades, move we on with hearts undaunted-- - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Dark the world and always darker, none to comfort, none to love us, - Grisly hell beneath us yawning, deaf or dead the gods above us-- - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Life and flesh and soul and sinew, beating heart and thought upsoaring-- - Was the goblet of our being crowned but for this wild outpouring? - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Voices come through dreary silence, still for righteous vengeance calling-- - So we chant our stern defiance false relentless Rome is falling! - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Countless years have tortured nations learned the truth of Roman mercies-- - Ah! she falls in waste and carnage, 'mid the world's triumphant curses! - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Gleams of vengeance, long delaying, scantly sate the spirit's yearning-- - Guessing, groping, craving, hoping, must we go without returning? - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - Onward to our slaughtered comrades, round the arena, shadow-haunted, - On to endless night or morning pass we on with hearts undaunted! - _Ave, Caesar Imperator, morituri te salutant!_ - ------- - -{522} - - - From Once a Week - - Lakes of Lorraine. - - -On certain sultry and thunderous days in the middle of July, 1866, was -celebrated, with fêtes and fireworks, illuminations by night, and brilliant -shows by day, the first centenary of the union of the province of Lorraine -to France. The scene was the city of Nancy, and splendor was added to the -festival by the presence of the Empress Eugénie and the imperial prince, -who lodged in the former palace of King Stanislaus of Poland, the last duke -of Lorraine, and witnessed from its balcony the defiling of a long -allegorical procession, representing in order the historical personages of -the province, conspicuous among whom was the Maid of Orleans, personated by -a youth of the town bearing in his hand a facsimile of her consecrated -banner. The romance of the mediaeval spectacle was a little marred by -certain laughable incongruities which the critical eye might detect; for -instance, the arquebusiers of the sixteenth century were armed with -percussion muskets; and the portly nymphs representing France and Lorraine -seemed in consequence of the heat to be in somewhat too melting a mood for -perfect dignity. The spectacle as a whole was, however, very imposing, and -went off with a success peculiarly French, the clean and handsome city -being crowded with well-behaved strangers from all the neighborhood, in -such vast numbers that, in spite of their good behavior and good temper, -they were fain to fight for their places in the trains, and one party had -to wait till two A.M. at the station, after being in time to get away by -ten at night. In bearing patiently such inconveniences in the pursuit of -pleasure, our neighbors of the other side of the channel most undeniably -surpass us. It was pleasant as a contrast to pass without let or hinderance -the same station a few days later, following the line which runs parallel -to the course of the Moselle past Épinal to Remiremont, on a visit to the -lakes which lie in the country between that town and the terminus of St. -Dié, which ends another branch of the Paris and Strasburg railway. Between -Nancy and Épinal the stream of the Moselle is met winding through fertile -meadows in a broad valley with low elevations on each side; near Épinal the -scenery becomes more picturesque; there are more trees near the river, and -the long level reaches are broken by occasional rapids with rocks about -them. When Épinal is passed, the valley becomes narrower and prettier, shut -in between two spurs of the Vosges, until the basin is reached, where -Remiremont itself lies, and the waters of the Mosellote join those of the -Moselle, each branch of the river from this point to the source having the -character of a considerable mountain brook. The town of Remiremont itself -resembles Freiburg in the Breisgau, minus its magnificent cathedral, in its -size and general character, and especially in the abundance of fountains -and runnels permeating the streets, which in their main portions are -fronted with arcades like those of Bern or Bologna, a pleasant protection -against sun and shower, and duly appreciated in the tempestuous summer of -1866. - -The busy little town derives its euphonious name from one Saint Romary. In -the circle of mountains enclosing the town one of conical shape is -remarked, called Mont Habend, from _Castrum Habendi_, a camp erected -on its site by the Romans. - -{523} - -In the seventh century this holy mountain was the chosen retreat of two -anchorites, Amé and Romary, who founded there two monasteries, one for -women, another for men, and were canonized after their deaths. The -monasteries were destroyed by the Huns in the tenth century, but the site -of one was repeopled again by monks a century later, while the nuns, -abandoning the mountain, fixed themselves in the valley. The convent of -Remiremont was governed during its long existence by sixty-four abbesses, -the last of whom, Louise Adélaide de Bourbon Condé, died in 1824. It was a -foundation even more exclusive and aristocratic in its character than All -Souls', Oxford. The abbesses were generally princesses, and royal honors -were accorded them. When each abbess entered the town for the first time, a -great holiday was kept, and the mayor, instead of presenting the keys of -the city, offered her the wine of the spot in a cup of gold, which she just -touched with her lips before she passed within the walls to be enthroned -with great state in the palatial apartments prepared for her. One of the -number of these religious princesses, Catherine de Lorraine, distinguished -herself in 1637 beating off from the walls of Remiremont the great Turenne, -who was endeavoring to take the town from the Duke of Lorraine. - -The town is now famous chiefly for the production of some excellent cakes -with the quaint name of "_quiches_" probably only a corruption of the -German Küchlein. - -To the guests at the baths of Plombières, the lake region which lies -between Remiremont and St. Dié is better known than to the general world, -as it lies out of the way of tourists' thoroughfares; but though it cannot -quite compete in beauty with the English or Scotch lakes, or Killarney, it -is well worth a visit to those who are not obliged to go a great distance -to see it. Instead of going due east to the source of the Moselle and the -pass over the main chain of the Vosges which leads to Wesserling, and -thence by rail to Basel, the road to Gérardmer turns to the left along a -valley parallel to the line of the mountains, and flanked by lower hills, -well wooded, on its other side. The foregrounds have the usual broken and -diversified character of a granitic country, and the height of the hills is -sufficient to make the distant views in many parts highly pleasing. There -is enough picturesque incident to beguile very pleasantly the eighteen -miles or so which the diligence traverses to Gérardmer. The name, derived -from Gérard, a duke of Lorraine, has been given to a fine oblong sheet of -clear water, about two miles long, and half a mile broad, bounded for the -greatest part of its circumstance by long slopes covered with meadows and -white cottages at intervals, but on the east by a pine forest and rocks, -which give a more savage aspect to its further banks. From the Swiss villas -built on its banks, the numerous pleasure-boats, and the general lively -aspect, it brings to mind the lake of Zurich in miniature. At its further -end is an immensely long village, also called Gérardmer, the most -distinguishing mark of which is an enormous wych elm of unknown antiquity, -standing in the market place. - -In the summer, Gérardmer is full of visitors, who are well entertained at -the Hôtel de la Poste and the Hôtel des Vosges at a moderate rate. The -latter of these is conducted by an indefatigable little landlady, who is -full of civilities, assisted by a good-natured, gigantic husband, who seems -to superintend the kitchen department, and generally was seen during our -visit lounging somewhere about the entrance, conspicuous in white trousers -and a shirt of violet flannel, trimmed with scarlet. The wide road beyond -Gérardmer branches to the right and left. The left branch leads into a -valley choked with a primaeval pine forest, in the depths of which roars -the torrent of the Vologne. The trees are of immense size, and completely -clad with pendants of moss and lichen, telling of a considerable elevation -of site, and of such weird and grand forms as to make one wish that the art -of forest culture which fells the trees at a premature age had never been -introduced. -{524} -In one spot, not far from the so-called "Basse des Ours," or Bear Bottom, -where the huge granite-blocks that have fallen from the crest of a mountain -have been huddled together, a natural ice-house has been formed in the -interstices, called "La glacière," and the fact of our finding no ice in it -was accounted for by the summer not having been sufficiently hot to produce -the necessary amount of evaporation. The road to the right passes over the -torrent, by a bridge, and then divides again, its right branch leading over -the mountains into the valley of Münster in Alsace, and its left to St. -Dié. On the road to St. Dié two pines are seen which have grown together -like Siamese twins. - -Near the bridge is a cascade of singular beauty, which, from a peculiarity -it possesses in changing its entire aspect as the spectator changes his -ground, is called the _Cascade des Fées_. Not far from this cascade is -a large slab of granite, and a fountain where Charlemagne is said to have -dined when he passed out of Alsace over the Vosges into Lorraine, at a time -when all the country was wild forest. A rough bridle road to the right -leaves the main road to the Schlucht pass and the valley of Münster, and, -making for a gap in the hill, soon discloses the beautiful piece of water -called Longemer, or "The Long Lake," the Ullswater, as Gérardmer is the -Windermere of Lorraine. It runs in a long trough between beautifully wooded -steeps for about two miles, with a slightly serpentine direction, prettily -broken by spits of grassy land with a few low trees upon them. At the upper -end is seen, above woody heights, the bald summit of the Honeck, (Hoheneck, -"The High Corner",) an eminence about four thousand feet high. At the lower -end, shaded by lofty trees, is a little chapel on a tongue of land, -dedicated to St. Bartholomew by an anchorite named Bilon, and near it a -solitary villa belonging to a medical gentleman of the neighborhood, who -spends his summer holidays in this Arcadian seclusion, boating and fishing -in the lake and the clear stream that runs out of it. By a path to the -right, following the sinuosities of the lake, a rocky barrier is reached, -down whose face tumbles, among rocks and trees, a lovely waterfall; and -when this is passed, another lake is disclosed, a round, low-lying basin, -among dense woods and frowning escarpments, one of them called the Rock of -the Devil, which bears the name of Retournemer, or "The Lake of Return." A -solitary dwelling, backed by fine beeches and other trees, stands on the -brink, the cottage of the forester, where the wanderer to this end of the -world finds hospitable entertainment. But notwithstanding the impassable -look of the scenery round, a zig-zag path through the trees climbs the -height behind the house, and joins the road which leads to the Col de la -Schlucht, where a beautiful view opens into Alsace, its most prominent -objects being that long spur of the Vosges which terminates by Colmar, and -on the other side a broken granite wall, crowned by a peculiarly imposing -cap of rock, under which the road descends to the green slopes about -Münster, which are variegated with acres of bleaching linen, the product of -the weaving industry which pervades the whole country. On the Col itself is -a spacious chalet or hotel, with excellent accommodation and abundant fare, -to which appetites whetted by the bracing mountain air are inclined to do -full justice. From this point, by walking up a long slope in a southerly -direction, the top of the Honeck is reached, grazed over by herds of cattle -tinkling with Alpine bells, and commanding a spacious view over the valley -of the Rhine to the distant Black Forest, with tremendous precipices in the -foreground on the side of Alsace. Instead of returning from this point -direct to Gérardmer, I walked through a forest of apparently blasted -horn-beam, as grisly as the trees in Gustave Doré's drawings, into a long -valley, which led in course of time to a busy place called La Bresse, and -thence, turning to the right, over a moderately high pass back to -Gérardmer. -{525} -Besides the three lakes already mentioned, there is Blanchemer, or the -"White Lake," in the valley of the Mosellote; the Lac de Corbeaux, -so-called from an overhanging cliff frequented by ravens; the Lac de -Lispach, rich in fish, divided by a ridge from Longemer, and the Lac de -Marchet, on the flank of a mountain not far from Bresse. The so-called -White, Black, and Green lakes belonging to Alsace are situated further to -the north on that side of the Vosges chain which looks toward the Rhine. On -one of the mounds of the Honeck mountain there is an abundant and perennial -spring, called La Fontaine de la Duchesse, which perhaps possesses a higher -claim to be the source of the Moselle than the more trifling stream which -descends by Bussang, though the latter pours its contribution in a more -direct line. The sources of rivers, whether small or great, are generally -controvertible. Some consider the Inn, which rises in the Grisons, as -having more claim to be the real Danube than the river which rises at -Donaueschingen, and, between the rival claims of the Victoria Nyanza of -Speke and the Albert Nyanza of Baker, the real head of mighty Nilus himself -still remains an open question for geographers. - ------- - - Original. - - Columbus - - - Three Scenes. - - 'Tis midnight; through the lozenge panes - Flashes a southern storm; - And the lightning flings its livid stains - O'er a bowed and wearied form. - He stands, like a ship once staunch and stout - By billows too long opprest; - And a fiercer storm than whirls without - Tears through his heaving breast. - His hand is pressed on his aching brow, - And veils his eyes' dark light, - And a twinkling cresset's dim red glow, - When the lightning pales, doth sadly flow - O'er locks where many a thread of snow - Tells of time's troubled flight. - He stands--a fading, a clouded star, - Half-hid in the rack of heaven's war; - Or, like a vanquished warrior, one - Whose heart is crushed, whose hopes are gone - After many a gallant fight. - -{526} - - He turns and he paces the damp stone floor, - And his glance seeks the damper wall, - Where the charts, o'er which he had loved to pore, - Like arras rise and fall. - There is his heart's most cherished store, - There lie the fruits of his deepest lore, - And his lips, as he views them o'er and o'er, - His withered life recall: - - "And was it all a dream? - Is this the bitter waking? - And is hope's heavenly beam - For aye my soul forsaking? - I thought to see the cross unfurled - Upon the hills of a far-off world! - To bear the faith of the Crucified - Far o'er the wild Atlantic's tide! - To see adored the Christian's God - Where Christian foot hath never trod! - Sure brighter dreams from heaven ne'er fell - And I wake in this cold, dim cell! - - "And were they, too, but dreams---- - Those lands far in the West, - Where robed in sunset beams - The Seven Cities rest? - Far, far beyond the blue Azores, - I thought to press the ocean's shores; - The heaving, restless main to span, - And give--and give--a world to man! - A new-born world of vernal skies - Fresh with the breath of paradise-- - A world that yet would place my name - The foremost on the scroll of fame. - And now I wake, poor, friendless, lone, - 'Mid these dripping walls of stone. - - "And was it but a dream - I left fair Italy? - To chase the churchyard gleam - Of false expectancy-- - That light which, like the swamp's pale glare, - Lures but to darkness and despair? - To crush the visions youth built up? - Drink to its poisoned dregs the cup - Of hope deferred and trust misplaced? - To feel heart shrink and body waste? - And still like drowning wretch to cry, - 'One more effort and I die!'" - - -{527} - - II. - - The drear, chill gray of dawning day - Dies in a golden glow, - And merrily on the dancing sea - The rippling sunbeams flow; - And they glance and glint, in many a tint, - Over minaret and tower, - Where the lofty cross shows the Paynim's loss - And the wane of Moslem power. - And waving high in the brightening sky, - Floating o'er town and sea, - And gleaming bright in the morning light, - Spain's flag flaunts haughtily. - - Who passes through the antique street - Worshipped by all around? - Whom do the thousand voices greet - That to the heavens resound? - Proud is the flash of his dark eye, - Yet tempered with humility; - The softened radiance, high yet meek, - That doth the Christian soul bespeak; - Proud is his heaving bosom's swell, - And proud his seat in velvet selle; - His very courser paws the earth - As conscious of its master's worth. - - And now his armed heel loud rings - Through a high, carved hall, - Where blazoned shields of queens and kings - Hang fluttering on the wall. - Around, the noblest of the land - In deepest awe uncovered stand: - Princes, whose proud sires had well - Upheld the cross with Charles Martel; - And knights, whose scutcheons flashed amid - The fiercest fights where blazed the Cid; - Soldiers, who by their sovereign's side - Hurled back in blood the seething tide - Of Moslem war; and churchmen sage, - The men who smoothed that iron age. - And all alone, 'mid that bright throng, - _His_ voice arises clear and strong. - He stands before a throne; even now - His dark plume waves above his brow, - As he, of all the courtier train, - Rivalled the majesty of Spain. - Fortune like this, what fate can mar? - He stands--a cloudless, risen star. - -{528} - - III. - - Once more 'tis the mid hour of night; - Once more the storm beats high; - But now it whirls its fearful might - Along the cloud-fraught sky - Which spans the drear Atlantic's waste, - All whitened with wild foam, - That cleaves the air, as sea-birds haste - At even to their home. - - But even there, where nature's power - Laughs puny man to scorn, - Man lords it for his little hour - O'er fellow-man forlorn. - Within a Vessel's creaking sides - A chained prisoner sits; - Drooped, weary, careless what betides - His tired soul, ere it flits - Far from a world where gratitude - Yields ever to the selfish brood - That gold and thirst for honor bring - To breast of peasant and of king. - What now avails the world he gave - To thankless Spain? It cannot save - From slavish chains its whilom lord, - Nor shield him from the hatred poured - O'er his bowed head by those who late - But formed the puppets of his state. - Gone is his kindly mistress--laid - To sleep among Spain's royal dead. - Dead is her smile, her beaming gaze - So full of hope when darkening days - Hung o'er the crown she wore so well; - Yea, dead is queenly Isabel! - And where are now the crowds that hung - Upon his steps when every tongue - Shouted his praise? The station high - Above all Spain's plumed chivalry? - The high commands? Away! each thought - With saddening memory so deep fraught! - Call not pale flashes from afar - To mock with light a fallen star! - The past is dead, the future read, - Ay! see a broken, moss-grown stone, - And on it view a kingly meed - Of thanks to genius shown-- - Ay! trace o'er that forgotten grave-- - "ANOTHER WORLD COLUMBUS GAVE - TO CASTILE AND LÉON." - - Front-de-boeuf. - ------- - -{529} - - - Original. - - The Two Lovers of Flavia Domitilla. - - by Clonfert. - - - - Chapter II. - - The Slaves' Feast. - - -The great Festival called _Saturnalia_ was being celebrated in Rome -when these events took place. The occurrence of this feast enabled the -Christians from many parts of the world to assemble in the city, and to -celebrate under cover of it the feast of Christmas. History does not light -us with certainty to the precise time at which this latter feast was -instituted, but shows it in matured existence at a very early period. -Tradition has surmised that it had its birth in the first century, and that -it was celebrated in secret and security under shadow of the pagan -festivities of the _Saturnalia_. - -The _Saturnalia_, in honor of _Saturnus_, to whom the Latins -traced the introduction into Italy of agriculture and the civilizing arts, -fell toward the end of December. The agricultural labors of the year being -then over, it became a kind of harvest-home with the rural population. -After the Julian addition of two days to the month of December, it -commenced on the 16th of the Kalends of January, that is, on the 17th -December, and continued for three days. But the people generally -anticipated the time and prolonged it to the end of the month, especially -to the 24th, when it became merged in another feast called -_Sigillaria_, on account of the earthenware figures then hawked about -as toys for children. - -During the feast the slaves were allowed great liberty of act and of -speech. Throwing off their sombre garments of brown and black, which, -together with their slippers, made up the servile dress, (_vestis -servilis_,) they donned their masters' clothes, assumed like freedmen -the _pileus_, or felten cap, considered the badge of freedom. Their -allowance of bread and salt and oil was increased and made palatable by the -addition of wine. Their masters often waited on them at table, where -thoughts were freely uttered in joke and song as well as in sober earnest -without restraint or blame. The whole people made merry; the toga was laid -aside, and the loose-fitting garment _synthesis_ put on with a -high-peaked skull-cap without brim, (_pileus_.) Wax-tapers were given -as presents, particularly by slaves to their owners and by the clients to -their patrons; with these lighted in their hands, they went along the -streets shouting "_Io Saturnalia!_" Stores and courts were closed; -schools kept holiday; war could not be proclaimed; evil-doers could not be -punished; gambling, prevented by law at other times, was permitted. In -private circles mock-kings were chosen, who ruled the sports with right -royal dignity. All these and greater privileges, were granted the slaves. - -Aurelian was in no mood for enjoyment since his interview with Flavia. -Knowing that many strangers would be calling at his Roman palace, he -avoided them by betaking himself to his suburban villa. There, too, he -could with less fear of discovery keep his engagements with Zoilus and -Sisinnius for the 8th of the Kalends of January. He was nervously anxious -to prove the truth of what the former had told him. - -He retired, therefore, to the country. Thither he invited Sisinnius to meet -him on the day agreed on with Zoilus, under plea of seeing his slaves -celebrate the feast in rural style. -{530} -Sisinnius found him in the _Tablinum_, a room opposite the hall door, -where family records and archives were kept. Seeing Aurelian, thin, pale, -and dull, writing on a parchment roll, he asked: - -"Is it making your will you are? You remind me of the shade of Dido! This -comes of neglecting the gods and their feasts, and shutting yourself up -among those woods and stone-walls like a vestal. If you staid in the city, -and lighted your wax-taper, and sang your song to Saturn like a good jolly -fellow, you would be far more cheerful and comely!" - -"Perhaps so. But the three destinies are not all and always kind. I have -had my happy times; it is fair my sad ones should come." - -"Pshaw, Aurelian! Pour out a libation to Bacchus and then empty off the -goblet yourself, and you shall find the jolly god will stiffen up your -drooping spirits! I know the cause of all this--your interview with that -wilful girl! Cheer up! women are like the summer clouds, one time damp and -dark, the next beaming with the sunshine of love and beauty." - -"Very poetical, Sisinnius, but Flavia is not after the ordinary mould. -Tonight, however, will decide my doubts and hopes for ever. You remember -our engagement with Zoilus?" - -"Yes, I am half sorry I made it. I cannot read that slave. He seems to know -every one and everything; and one can scarcely distinguish between his -jocose and his serious moods. Do you know where I met him as I came to the -crossway of the Appian and Latin roads? Talking to that Jewish beggar who -sits morning, noon, and night asking pennies from the passers-by near the -Egerian fountain." - -"I allowed him into the city to arrange for our admission to the -meeting-place of the Christians. He certainly does know a great deal, and -must be a clever deceiver. Otherwise he could not have crept into the -secrets of those mysterious, plotting Jewish sects without being -distrusted. However, in the present instance he is serious and to be -trusted; for I have promised him and a female slave--a Jewess also, who has -fascinated him--their liberty, in case he convinces me that Flavia has -become a Christian. But, hush! here he comes. Well, Zoilus, you have -returned sooner than I expected. What news from the city?" - -"Hail, noble Sisinnius!" said the Greek, bowing. "Well, master, the divine -Domitian is in a fury; the exhibition of games in the new amphitheatre has -been a failure. He had ordered, it is said, nearly ten thousand beasts and -a proportionate number of gladiators, a number exceeding that with which -his brother Titus had dedicated it. The play of Hercules and Omphale was to -be enacted before the people. A gladiator was under training for many weeks -to sustain the character of Hercules, and was to have been burned alive at -the end in a skirt set on fire with vitriol and tar. The gladiator went -through the preparatory training well, and seemed to enjoy the good things -ordered him by the emperor with the view of making him fleshier and fatter -for the burning. But, while being brought to the amphitheatre this morning, -he slipped his head between the spokes of the cart-wheel, and, without -gratitude for the good things, or feeling for the disappointment of the -imperial god, suffered his neck to broken. This was really too bad of mere -slave! [Footnote 166] - - [Footnote 166: An historical fact. _Friedlander_.] - -"So another had to substituted; what comfort or cause of laughter would -there be in witnessing the burning of the corpse? A live substitute was -found, who most ungraciously refused to move either hand or foot in the -love-making of Hercules and Omphale. However, this could be borne in -anticipation of the fiery ending; but, wonderful to relate, when the skirt -was put on and the flames were lighted, he stood unscorched in their midst, -calling on the Christian God. Was not the emperor in a rage! -{531} -The water was let into the arena and the crocodiles and other amphibious -monsters were swimming about, devouring each other; and the man was thrown -in, but they would not touch him! Floating on the surface of the water, -with upturned face and clasped hands, he prayed the Christian God to have -pity on Domitian. This so angered the latter that, standing up from his -seat above the arena, he cursed the Christian and the Christian's God, in -the name of his own and of Jupiter's divinity. When, lo! as if Jupiter was -provoked, a thunderbolt like a burning globe came flashing as if from -highest heaven, and went hissing through the water in the arena, killing -every living thing within it except the floating Christian! The veil of the -amphitheatre, with the machinery by which it was sustained, was set on fire -and torn away. The people rushed from their seats; it is not known how many -lives were lost. The emperor himself was terrified, and, running from his -throne to his chariot, drove furiously to his palace, to find it also -struck by the lightning." [Footnote 167] - - [Footnote 167: These facts are substantially true. Tillemont's Lives of - the Emperors, and the History of the Flavian Amphitheatre, or - Colosseum, relate things as wonderful of Domitian's reign.] - -"This will hasten the edict of persecution against the Christians; and it -is time," observed Aurelian. - -The villa stood on a farm of many hundred acres. A wooded hill, from which -it was separated by a stream emptying into the Tiber, sheltered it from the -wintry winds. The stream drained the land, which otherwise would have been -a marsh, and thus prevented the unhealthy effluvia which unfitted many -parts near the city for human resilience. Its distance of some miles from -the great southern road saved it from many visitors, and thereby rendered -it a secure retreat for a mind seeking solitude. Attached to the villa, but -at some hundred yards from it, were the dwelling-places of the outdoor -slaves, in and around which they were now feasting. It consisted of two -open courts, [Footnote 168] an outer and an inner one. - - [Footnote 168: Cohortes, chortes, cortes--courts.] - -In the buildings around the former was the kitchen, an apartment large -enough to contain the whole _family_ employed on the farm. -_Family_ (_familia_) was the word used to designate the total -number of slaves employed on an estate or in a household. Near the kitchen -were the baths, the oil and wine-presses, the cellars, and in the upper -stories the granaries, carefully protected from damp, heat, and insects. At -the entrance-gate of this court were the apartments for the -_Villicus_, or chief steward, and for the _Procurator_ of the -_family_. In the inner court were the stables, stalls, and sheds, -(_equilia, bubilia,_ and _ovilia_.) In the centre of each court -was a large reservoir, into which the water from the stream was carried -through terra-cotta pipes, or Roman-arched drains. The reservoir in the -outer court was generally used for cleansing and soaking vegetables; that -in the inner was carefully supplied with fresh water for poultry and -cattle. Around both courts were the chambers (_cellae_) of the slaves, -which fronted southward so as to catch the sun's light and heat. Near these -chambers, but partly underground, was the prison for refractory or fugitive -slaves; it was partially lighted by long and narrow windows. - -Aurelian and Sisinnius strolled leisurely from the villa, accompanied by -Zoilus, and discussing the wonderful events he had related. When they -reached the courts, they found the slaves engaged in different amusements. -It was a bright, bracing day; the sun shone in a cloudless sky, which had -been swept by the wind. There was nothing to remind them of December, save -only the long, dry branches of the trees rustling and swaying on the -hillside, and the gusts sweeping at times in eddies round the courts as if -they had lost their way. Some of the slaves were playing at quoits; others -at draughts (_latrunculi_) in sheltered nooks. Some indulged in the -usually forbidden game of dice, while younger ones took a boyish pleasure -in rattling the cylindrical dice-boxes of bone or ivory, -(_fritillus_.) -{532} -A group in the central area of the outer court played at odd and even, -(_par impar ludere_;) while another was gathered around a slave with -long-flowing philosophic beard, who proposed puzzles on the abacus, or -calculating tray. Many sat quietly apart; others walked moodily about, -wrapped in thoughts that seemed tinged with disappointment and gloom. But -the great body of the family was in the kitchen, which resounded with -singing, music, and dancing. As soon as Aurelian and his companions had -entered the last-named apartment, a little slave with hunchback, wiry frame -bounded from a couch and seized the skirt of his master's toga, which was -slung in walking style over the left shoulder. - -"The gods will be angry with the senator for wearing his toga during the -feast, and for not waiting on Caipor as he did last year," exclaimed the -dwarf. - -"No, no, Caipor! Saturnus has given me leave to retain the toga; because I -am not well, and he fears I would catch cold if I laid it aside for a -lighter dress." - -The face of Caipor darkened and tears brightened through his eyelashes. - -"Poor master is not well and shall die! Then what will Caipor do? Villicus -will whip him and put him in the _furca_ for ringing his bells; or -they will sell him and he will never more see or love good master or -beautiful Flavia." - -Aurelian assured him that there was no danger of his own death, and that he -might ring his bells and should not be whipped. The little fellow shook his -Phrygian cap, and rang a tiny peal from the tiny bells attached around it. -The jingle caused him to laugh out with idiotic delight. - -"Villicus cannot whip Caipor for shaking his bells, ha, ha! Villicus -whipped Lucius to-day until the big drops of blood came from between the -shoulders, and put him on the mill in the prison." - -"Impossible!" said Sisinnius. "It is not lawful to punish or imprison -during the feast." - -"Lucius said so. But Villicus would not listen. Lucius is a big, strong man ---why did he not kill Villicus? He did not cry or stir, but he kept calling -on Jesus to help him; but Jesus did not come. Master, who is Jesus?" asked -the fool. - -Aurelian's curiosity was aroused. On questioning the steward, he was told -that Lucius, with many other slaves, refused to join in honoring Saturn or -any of the gods, or to award divinity to the emperor; that it was necessary -to punish some one for example's sake, and that Lucius, other wise quiet -and inoffensive, was chosen as being principal among the recusants. - -"What is to come next?" said Aurelian bitterly to Sisinnius. "Our wives and -daughters, and now our lowest slaves, are lured by this Christian seducer! -Like the pestilence from the marshes, his influence is creeping into every -corner and poisoning the whole atmosphere of our social system. Something -must be done to check its deadly progress. A stronger dose than that -administered by Nero is requisite to kill it." - -Caipor was clinging affectionately to his master's side. At length, drawing -the toga by a sudden jerk, he looked up into Aurelian's face and said: - -"Caipor waits upon the senator the year round. Will not the senate wait -upon Caipor during the festival?" - -"Certainly, I will be your slave and wait on you, my Caipor! Where is your -couch?" - -Couches with, small tables for the guests had been arranged in form of a -triclinium at one end of the large apartment. Leading Aurelian to one of -these seats, the hunchback fool reclined upon his elbow in [a] most -approved dining attitude; and, as Aurelian rolled the table to his side and -helped him to wine and fruit, looked around the room with mingled pride and -pleasure at being the only one so honored. - -Meantime Zoilus told Sisinnius the history and character of several slaves. -There were about four hundred present. -{533} -Our readers may give us credit for exaggeration if we draw attention to the -vast numbers, the varied origin, and occupations of slaves owned by noble -Romans in the age of Domitian. Slavery arose from three causes, namely, -from birth, from civil punishment, and captivity in war. The captives by -war alone would swell the number enormously. In the reign of Augustus a -freedman died leaving by will over four thousand slaves, after having lost -other thousands in the civil wars. Historians say that many Romans had from -ten to twenty thousand. Juvenal puts the test of a person's fortune in the -question, "_Quot pascit servos?_" "How many slaves does he support?" -During the empire they filled every position, from the most menial to the -most literary. They were tillers and caretakers of the territories of the -patricians in Italy, Sicily, and in the provinces beyond the mountains and -the seas. They were employed as bakers, barbers, cooks, stewards, and -artisans; as tutors, clerks, amanuenses, readers, teachers, physicians, -astronomers, rhetoricians, poets, and philosophers. The literature and -science of the Roman world, the "Orbis terrarum" found many a worthy -representative in their ranks. Hence it has been well said that the martial -prowess of Rome conquered that of foreign nations, but that the -civilization and learning of foreigners conquered or rather produced hers. - -We need not wonder, therefore to find hundreds of slaves in the household -of Aurelian. His family was among the oldest and noblest of the city. -Counting those on his Italian and foreign estates, they numbered many -thousands. In the assemblage which Sisinnius was scanning, many -nationalities had representatives--Phrygians, Cappadocians, Thracians, -Britons, Greeks, and Jews. - -"Whence was Caipor purchased?" asked Sisinnius. - -"The mother of Aurelian," answered Zoilus, "was driving in her four-wheeled -chariot (_rheda_) through the streets of Rome. Her attention was drawn -to a dwarfish figure, who, emerging from the forum of Augustus, followed -the chariot-wheels, clapping his hands and crying out, 'Well done! little -wheel. Run fast! Big wheel can't catch you; well done, little wheel!' He -was in ecstasies on seeing the smaller wheels of the carriage, as it rolled -quickly on, keep their position at the same distance from the larger. The -slave-dealer from whom he had wandered came up and scourged him severely. -He cried piteously and called on the lady for protection. Moved with pity, -she made her husband buy him at a cost of ten thousand sestertia, -($50,000.) [Footnote 169] Since that time he has been the pet fool of the -household (_morio_,) and was, according to custom, named Caipor -(_Caii puer_) after my noble master's father." - - [Footnote 169: A _morio_, or fool, in the reign of Nero cost - $15,000! _Dio_.] - -"What is the name of that female yonder? How beautiful is the symmetry of -her face and figure! But there is determined purpose in her lip and eye." - -"That is Judith the Jewess," said Zoilus, slightly confused. "She was -bought like myself from among the slaves left by the late Consul Domitilla. -She was a little girl during the siege of Jerusalem; and, having -miraculously escaped was, like other girls of her age and beauty, brought -to grace the triumphal return of the conqueror Titus. During the procession -she was perched like a winged Iris on the same chariot with Venus and -Apollo." - -"And that other near her?" - -"Is the daughter of a Roman plebeian, and by birth a free woman. But, -having secretly married a slave, she was on discovery reduced to his level. -She bears her lot patiently, however, because she cannot be separated by -sale from her husband." - -"I see two strongly built slaves sitting near each other. One of them wears -his beard; and the fair locks of the other are down to his shoulders. They -seem to look contemptuously on the amusements." - -{534} - -"One of these is a Getulian, the other a Briton. They were both chiefs and -warriors in their respective countries. You perceive the mark -(_stigma_) burned into the former's forehead? When first exposed in -the slave-market, having on his neck the tablet (_titulus_) describing -his various qualities, a physician was brought, before whom he was to be -stripped and examined. Before they had time to so treat him he snatched up -a staff, and, having prostrated slave dealer and physician, with a sweep -bounded over the railing of the area and escaped among the buildings of the -old forum. It cost the lives of three slave-hunters before he was captured. -He was branded as a dangerous character and condemned to die as a -gladiator. But Aurelian succeeded in procuring him. Since he came on this -estate he has made no attempt at escape. Being allowed a percentage -(_peculium_) on his work like many others employed by our master, he -has become industrious, and hopes after some years to be able to purchase -his liberty by his savings. The Briton is similarly situated. If they -succeed in procuring freedom, depend upon it, they will return to their -native hills and relight the torch of war." - -"Who is that old man with bald head and long white beard, to whom Aurelian -is now speaking?" - -"That is Bathus, the tutor and caretaker of Aurelian's youthhood. He wears -the long beard and cloak of a philosopher by license of the festival. He -hates the emperor on account of his late edict of expulsion against the -philosophic tribe. He also professes grammar and rhetoric. Next [to] him is -Tritonios, a disciple of Hippocrates. He is famous for his skill in -bleeding and in amulets. His bored ears show his Eastern origin, probably -in Arabia. You may find him any morning before sunrise gathering herbs for -charms. There is scarcely a slave, or a tree on the estate that has not a -triangular Abracadabra, or some other amulet suspended on him or it, as a -protection against disease and the evil genii." - -While Zoilus and Sisinnius were thus conversing, those in the other parts -of the apartment were not without their own topics and amusements. It was -observable that they instinctively took their places according to their -position and rank in the family. Those born in the household, the -_vernae_, were more forward and talkative than the others; they well -deserved the character given of them by the poet as the "_vernae -procaces_." - -A Roman slave-family contained all the sources of social enjoyment and -happiness, such as was possible for persons in their condition, provided -the owner and the superintendents were not inclined to tyranny. Their -marriage was not indeed sanctioned by law; but the _contubernium_, -which permitted them to live as man and wife under the same roof, was -respected in its relations as much perhaps among the pagan, as among -Christian nations, among whom slavery flourished. [Footnote 170] - - [Footnote 170: Cod. iii. 23.] - -An enactment was passed by the senate that in sales and divisions of -property husband and wife, parent and child, brother and sister, should not -be sundered. Roman jurists, no doubt, defined slavery to be a -"_constitutio juris gentium, quâ quis contra naturam alterius dominis -subjicitur_," thus strictly giving the master power to do much as he -liked with the slave; to sell, punish, and put to death. In consequence -great cruelties were often inflicted. But generally social intercourse and -positive morality softened down their severity. Positive legislation also -came to the aid of the slave. Under the Antonines, a man putting his slave -to death without a justifying cause was subject to a heavy penalty. If a -slave were treated too harshly, he might bring the case before the public -tribunal and claim to be sold to another master. If a sickly or aged slave -were exposed by the owner, he became free; and, if put to death, the crime -was punished as murder. Christianity, though it did not proclaim slavery to -be an essential evil, made way for emancipation. -{535} -The great principles of charity were urged by the first Christian writers -and fathers of the church. Clement of Alexandria devoted much of his -eloquence to this subject. Gradually this Christian spirit impregnated -society, especially after the triumph of the cross under Constantine. -Slaves who became priests, monks, nuns, or were promoted to any clerical -order, were made free by law. Owing to these circumstances, the number of -slaves became very much lessened. Many Christian masters emancipated all -they possessed; others kept them, until they were instructed and converted, -and then gave them freedom. Justinian particularly did much for the -overthrow of slavery: his legislation, inspired by the Catholic Church, -would have wholly extinguished it, but for the invasion of the northern -barbarians. These brought with them their slaves, who were mostly -Sclavonians, (_sclavi_, or _slaves_,) and reduced many of the -conquered to the same level. The church was true to her policy of not -suddenly tearing up any of the foundations of society when not essentially -wrong; but she never ceased to preach, "in season and out of season," the -great principle of "doing unto others as we would have them do unto us." -This is the mirror she has always held up before master and slave. Seeing -their duties here reflected, the evils of slavery, and finally the system -itself, began to fade like snow under the softening influence of the sun. -The voice of the Catholic Church was the herald of freedom from the -beginning. Wondrous changes were brought about without those calamities -accompanying sudden transitions. The echoes of her teaching have been taken -up by religious and political parties. But they have had the injustice of -appropriating it as their own, and the ingratitude to forget that the -Catholic Church was the mother at whose knees mankind learned the lessons -of Christian charity and liberty! But we must return. - -During the conversation between Zoilus and Sisinnius, the jests and -laughter of the "vernae" were heard above all other sounds. - -"Observe Zoilus," said one, "he looks as sober and serious as Rhadamanthus -on the judgment-seat. What is the matter with him?" - -"He is expecting to be a freedman one of these days, and thinks it time to -become a gentleman and quit his old habits and associates." - -"Why, as to that matter, he is as free as the wind on the hill-side. He is -in and out of the city as often as he likes. What induces master to give -him so much freedom? There is something in it." - -"See Murena, too! He expects in a few months to buy himself out with the -profits of his peculium." - -"That accounts for his being so great a miser. The barber told me that, -after having his hair cut and nails pared the other day, Murena gathered -the cuttings in order to make a denarius on them!" - -This observation of the physician Tritonios caused laughter and was not -unheard by Murena, who replied: - -"O doctor! that is a stale joke stolen from Plautus. Next time I will -preserve the parings for your amulets, they may be as good for the -toothache or the colic as the hairs on the goat's chin which you hung upon -the arm of Marcus!" - -"Take care, Murena!" said a third, "you don't know how soon you may require -Tritonios to assist you." - -"Yes, and share the fate of Procax, who only saw the doctor in a dream, and -awoke no more, though he carried an amulet." - -The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of two slaves, a male and -female, dressed in short and close garments for the dance. They wore -leathern skull-caps for protection of the head in case of falling, because -as they danced they flung themselves on their heads and alighted again upon -their feet. Another slave played appropriate airs on the flute. -{536} -After engaging in this dance, in which, after Spartan style, the hands and -head and eyes were in motion as well as the feet, a rope was extended -across the room. The female dancer ascended, carrying a thyrsus bound with -white fillet and ending in a bunch of vine and ivy leaves mixed with -berries. Balancing herself with this, she danced in many graceful -attitudes, representing satyrs, fauns, bacchanals, and other mythological -beings. Then exchanging the thyrsus for a crater of wine and a small -drinking-cup, she danced and meantime poured the wine from one vessel into -the other, balancing herself by the action, and then descended amid great -applause. After the dance the amanuensis of Aurelian declaimed with great -spirit the beautiful passage of Homer in which the death of Hector at the -hands of Achilles is described. Here some one remarked that Zoilus had not -sung or improvised during the evening, and a unanimous call was made on -turn, with which, after some hesitation, he complied by singing the -following: - - The Song of Saturnus. - - A hymn to Saturnus, a grateful hymn, - With goblets festooned to the bead-crowned brim, - On his festival we sing: - Who once in the year - Doth freedom and cheer - To slave and to master bring, - Bring, - To slave and to master bring. - - He taught unto men how to till the hard soil, - To plant the green grape and to draw the fat oil - Which flows in the olive's heart, - To prune the vine - And to tap the mine, - And every useful art. - - He breathed on the earth; and his breath is the spring - Which flowers and fruits on its bosom doth fling, - And sweetens the summer breeze - As it freshly blows - Where the water flows - Through the roots of the leaf-clad trees. - - He breathed on the sea; and the ripples came - Like smiles o'er its face, and its amorous frame - Kissed with its cooling lip - The shore in the hours - When the sky sends its showers - For the thirsty earth to sip. - - He breathed on the air; and its brow grew white - With rays scarce concealed by the veil of night; - And the sun from its blue looked down - With a smile so bland - As to free the land - From the chill of his winter frown. - - He breathed on the springs; and the streams rushed out - From their mother's lap with a mirthful shout: - "Oh! come to the fields," they sang, - "For the parched meads - Need our limpid beads," - And they laughed as they onward sprang. - - Then a hymn to Saturnus, a grateful hymn, - With goblets festooned to the wine-crowned brim, - On his festival we sing: - Who once in the year - Doth freedom and cheer - To slave and to master bring! - -"Why, Zoilus, you rival Martial the Spaniard in wooing the virgin Nine," -said Bathus. "If the emperor only knew your powers, he would patronize you -as well as Juvenal, Quinctilian, and the Jew Josephus." - -"The renegade from his race and creed!" said Ephrem, a Jewish slave, in an -underbreath to Judith, who sat beside him. - -"The golden age of poesy, like that of philosophy, has departed," remarked -Zoilus in answer to Bathus. "The emperor has lost his early love of -verse-making, and betaken himself to the burning of vestals [Footnote 171] -and of Christians. - - [Footnote 171: Vestals were burned in the reign of Domitian for - violation of their vows.] - -"By the way, Bathus, have you heard that Epictetus and the whole host of -philosophers have been exiled? They say that Dio Chrysostom is consoling -himself in the Getulian desert with a tract of Plato and a speech of -Demosthenes. I would advise you strongly to shave your beard and lay aside -the philosopher's cloak, or the beard may be cut off with the head attached -to it. Genius is at a low ebb nowadays; that is my reason for having ceased -to be one." - -"Beware, lest you might share a like fate; your tongue wags very freely," -observed Aurelian, who overheard the conversation. - -"Noble master, this is the feast of free speech. To-morrow I will padlock -my lips, and nothing but a golden key will open them." said the slave, -glancing knowingly at his master. Then turning to Ephrem the Jew, "Sing us -that ode to your native land I heard you repeat the other day, Ephrem." - -"It is in Hebrew, and would not be understood." - -{537} - -"No matter; the metre and air are sweet and melancholy. I will have it -translated into Latin hexameter by your countryman Josephus, one of these -days, if you like." - -"Name him not, the arch-sycophant, who lives by flattering tyrants," -whispered Judith with a fierce tone and glance, before which Zoilus -blanched and trembled. - -"Fair Judith, be not angry; I meant it only in joke." - -"Jokes at the expense of others' feelings deserve not the award of wit," -said Ephrem, who, standing up, declaimed the following with a vehement -earnestness: - - Ode of the Exiled Jew to Jerusalem. - - I. - - Thy heart, Jerusalem! is desert and drear, - Thy children no more in thy bosom appear; - In the land of the Gentiles they sigh and they moan, - While thou, dear mother! dost pine all alone. - - II. - - Thy turrets, and temple, and beautiful gate-- - The gems that shone bright in the crown of thy state-- - Like the ark of the prophets, no longer remain, - And the Philistine foxes thy beauty profane! - - III. - - The gold harp of David awakens no more - Thy echoes where pontiff and people adore; - Thy silver-voiced trumpets are silent and dead, - No smoke from thy temple ascends overhead. - - IV. - - Like the weeds on the beach by the ocean-tide hurled, - Thy daughters are cast on the shores of the world; - Thy eye's filled with weeping, thy heart's filled with woe, - And thy brow once so fair in the dust is laid low! - - V. - - The dust of thy kings in thy bosom remains - Where the hoofs of the Gentiles insult thy sad plains, - And their lamps sacrilegious invade the deep glooms - That wrap them to rest in thy Valley of Tombs! - - VI. - - Jerusalem, mother! we pray unto Him - Who has filled up thy chalice of woe to the brim: - "A curse on the tyrants whose impious hands - Have seized thee, denied thee, and bound thee in bands! - - VII. - - "O send down, Jehovah! by night and by day, - Thy blight on apostate impostors, we pray; - The Christian deceivers, whose God we nailed fast [Footnote 172] - To the tree of the cross as a sail to the mast! - - [Footnote 172: The Jews cursed the Christians three times a day in - their synagogues, says Epiphanius in this direful form, "Send down thy - curse, God! on the Christians."] - - VIII. - - "Since the hour he was crucified outside thy gate, - His blood like a poison has mixed in thy fate! - May the God of thy fathers, the God of our race, - From thy forehead, Jerusalem, wipe the disgrace! - -During the delivery of the first verses tears flowed down the cheeks of -Judith. During the last part fire seemed to flash from her eyes. - -After Ephrem others were induced to sing or deliver pieces in the languages -of their respective countries. In the reign of Domitian, the Sarmatians, -Dacians, Parthians, and the German tribes beyond the Rhine had been -completely subdued. Agricola had broken on the Grampians the fierce -hardihood of the tribes beyond the Tay and Tweed. The success of the Jewish -war in the two preceding reigns had scattered that unfortunate race over -the earth. We can thence understand how on a large estate like that of -Aurelian so many nationalities met. Leaving them to amuse themselves, we -will follow Zoilus. - -He left the hall quietly, crossed the outer court and a paddock between it -and the villa, and entered through a low-arched door into the garden behind -it. Between this garden and the villa was the peristyle, a rectangular area -so named from having stone pillars around it. In its centre was a xystus -with box and other shrubs, shaped like tigers, lions, and galleys. The -deepening shades of evening brought out their figures with weird-like -indistinctness. Judith the Jewess stood between two pillars, and as she -stood, tall, straight, and motionless, might have passed for the guardian -goddess of the place. - -"I have been expecting you, Zoilus." - -"You do not forget your promise, then?" - -"No! my part shall be fulfilled as soon as you have complied with the -conditions." - -"Judith! these conditions are hard. I have my misgivings and fears about -the part I have to play." - -"Fears and misgivings?" she repeated. "These account for your changed -manner this evening?" - -{538} - -"Yes, I have never known any one to end well who interfered with the -Christians." - -"Ha, ha!" she laughed ironically. "You fear the uncircumcised dogs!" - -"Not them; but I fear their God." - -"_Their_ God! Is it the Galilean impostor?" - -"Moreover," he went on, not noticing her question, "I do not like to betray -the niece of our former owner Domitilla the consul. She was always good and -kind to me." - -"Look here," said the Jewess, baring her right arm, "see that scar, which -after many years leaves a red seam behind. It was that girl, so good and -kind, that drove her ivory hair-pin into the very bone, because I did not -plat her hair to her liking. Was she not good and kind to me, Zoilus?" - -"She was then young and thoughtless, but she is now different," he said. - -"You see that tiger," she pointed to a shrub shaped like that animal, "does -not the young cub betray the instincts of the full grown beast? But she is -different, you will perhaps say, since she became a Christian. As well -might you expect the drugs of Locusta [Footnote 173] to cure the leprosy. -Have you heard what takes place in the private meetings of those fully -initiated? Ah! _there_ she can indulge her liking for human blood!" - - [Footnote 173: A famous poisoner in the time of Nero.] - -Zoilus was silent. Some struggle of feeling with principle was going on. -Judith, observing him, exclaimed: - -"A lustrum of five long years has gone by since you asked me to become your -wife. I told you I would never be a wife, or have a husband, in slavery. It -is in your power now to procure freedom for both. Do so, and Judith will be -yours to-morrow. Hesitate now, and she takes back for ever the promise and -the pledge she made you!" She left the peristyle before he had time to -answer. - - To Be Continued. - ------- - - From The Popular Science Review. - - On the Struggle for Existence Amongst Plants. - - -The quaint dictum, "Plants do not grow where they like best, but where -other plants will let them," which is credited to the late eminent -horticulturalist, Dean Herbert of Manchester, expresses a truth not yet -half appreciated by botanists. It is a protest against the prevalent belief -that circumstances of climate and soil are the omnipotent regulators of the -distribution of vegetables, and that all other considerations are -comparatively powerless. The dean's crude axiom has lately found a -philosophical exposition and expression in Mr. Darwin's more celebrated -doctrine of the "struggle for life, and preservation thereby of the favored -races," and if to it we add that great naturalist's more fruitful discovery -of the necessity for insect and other foreign agencies in ensuring -fertility, and hence perpetuating the species, we shall find that the -powers of climate and soil are reduced to comparatively very narrow limits. -Before proceeding to show what are the causes that do materially limit the -distribution of species, it may be well to inquire how far the hard pressed -soil and climate theory really helps us to a practical understanding of one -or two great questions that fall under our daily observation; of these, the -following are the most prominent. - -{539} - -That very similar soils and climates, in different geographical areas, are -not inhabited naturally either by like species or like genera; that very -different soils and climates will produce almost equally abundant crops of -the same cultivated plants; and that, in the same soil and climate, many -hundreds, nay, thousands of species, from other very different soils and -climates, may be grown and propagated for an indefinite number of -successive generations. - -Of the first of these statements, the examples embrace some of the best -known facts in geographical botany; as, for example, that the flora of -Europe differs wholly from that of temperate North America, South Africa, -Australia, and temperate South America, and all these from one another. And -that neither soil nor climate is the cause of this difference is -illustrated by the fact that thousands of acres in each of these countries -are covered, year after year, by crops of the same plant, introduced from -one to the other; and by annually increasing numbers of trees, shrubs, and -herbs, that have either run wild or are successfully cultivated in each and -all of them. The third proposition follows from the two others, and of this -the best example is afforded by a good garden, wherein, on the same soil -and under identical conditions, we grow, side by side, plants from very -various soils and climates, and ripen their seeds too, provided only that -their fertilization is insured. The Cape geraniums, London pride, and -Lysimachia nummularia in our London areas, the pendent American cacti in -the cottage windows of Southwalk and Lambeth, are even more striking -examples of the comparative indifference of many plants to good or bad -climate or soil; and what can be more unlike their natural conditions than -those to which ferns are exposed in those invaluable contrivances, Ward's -cases, in the heart of the city? True, the conditions suit them well, and, -with respect to humidity and equability of temperature, are natural to -them; but neither is the absolute temperature, nor the constitution, nor -freshness of the air, the same as of the places the ferns are brought from; -nor is any systematic attempt made to suit the soil to the species -cultivated; for, as Mr. Ward himself well shows, the arctic saxifrage, the -English rose, the tropical palm, and desert cactus live side by side in the -same box, and under precisely similar circumstances, and, as it were, in -defiance of their natal conditions. - -Let it not be supposed that we at all underrate such power as soil and -climate really possess. In some cases, as those of chalk, sand, bog, and -saline and water plants, soil is very potent; but the number of plants -actually dependent on these or other peculiarities of the soil is much more -limited than is supposed. Of _bonâ-fide_ water-plants there are few -amongst phaenogams. Sand plants, as a rule, grow equally well on stiffer -soils, but are there turned out by more sturdy competitors; and with regard -to the calcareous soils, it is their warmth and dryness that fits them, to -so great an extent, for many plants that are almost confined to them, or -are absolutely peculiar to them. So, too, with regard to temperature, there -are limits, as regards heat, cold, and humidity, that species will not -overstep and live; but, on the other hand, so much has been done by -selection in procuring hardy races of tender plants, and so much may be -done by regulating the distribution of earth-temperature, etc., that we -already grow tropical plants in the open air during a portion of the year, -and eventually may do so for longer periods. - -Amongst the most striking examples of apparent indifference to natural -conditions of soil and climate, I would especially adduce two. One is the -_Salicornia Arabica_, a plant never found in its natural state, except -in most saline situations, but which has flourished for years in the -Succulent House at Kew, in a pot full of common soil, to which no salt has -ever been added; the other is the tea-plant, which luxuriates in the hot, -humid valleys of Assam, where the thermometer ranges between 70° and 85°, -and the atmosphere is so perennially humid that watches are said to be -destroyed after a few months of wear; and it is no less at home in -north-western India, where the summers are as hot and cloudless as any in -the world, and the winters very cold. -{540} -I may add that the tea-plant has survived the intense cold of this last -January, at Kew, on the same wall where many hardy and half-hardy plants -have been killed. - -It is, further, a great mistake to suppose that the native vegetation of a -country suffers little and very exceptionally by abnormal seasons. The most -conspicuous instance of the contrary that ever fell under my observation -was the destruction of the gigantic gum-tree (_Eucalyptus_) forests in -the central districts of Tasmania, which occurred, if I remember right, -about the year 1837. In 1840, I rode over many square miles of country, -through stupendous forests, in which every tree was, to all appearance, -absolutely lifeless. The district was totally uninhabited, consisting of -low mountain ranges, 2,000 feet above the sea, separating marshy tracts -interspersed with broad fresh-water lakes. The trees, much like the great -gaunt elms in Kensington Gardens during winter, but much larger, were in -countless multitudes, 80 to 180 feet high, close set, and ten to twenty -feet in girth; their weird and ghostly aspect being heightened by the fact -of most being charred for a considerable distance up the trunk, the effects -of the native practice of firing the grass in summer during the kangaroo -hunting season; and by the bark above hanging from their trunks in -streaming shreds, that waved dismally in the wind; for the species was the -stringy-bark gum, that sheds its bark after this fashion. And not only had -the gum-trees suffered, but the hardier _Leptospermum_ (tea tree bush) -and many others were killed, some to the ground and some altogether; so -that, though my journey was in spring and the weather was delightful, the -aspect of the vegetation was desolate in the extreme. - -In such climates as our own, similar devastations are unknown, and, though -we know that our island was once covered with other timber than now clothes -it, we have every reason to suppose that the change was slow, and the -effect either of a gradually altered climate, or of the immigration of -trees equally well or better suited to the conditions of the soil and -climate, but which had not previously had the opportunity of contesting the -ground with the ruling monarchs of the forest. - -Making every allowance, then, for the influence of soil and climate in -checking the multiplication of individuals, we have still two classes of -facts to account for: the one, that plants which succeed so well, when -cultivated, that we are assured both soil and climate are favorable to -their propagation, nevertheless become immediately or soon extinct when the -cultivator's care is withdrawn; the other, that plants of one country, when -introduced into another, even with a very different soil and climate, will -overrun it, destroy the native vegetation, and prove themselves better -suited to local circumstances than the aboriginal plants of the country. In -the first case, the reasons are very various, all of them relating to the -conditions of the plant's existence. Of these the two most potent are, the -absence of fertilizing agents, and the destruction of seeds and seeding -plants. In the present state of our knowledge it is impossible to say which -of these is most fatal in its effect. In the case of our annual plants or -our cereals, which never run wild, it is the latter certainly; for they -seed freely enough; in the case of many perennials, shrubs, and trees, it -may be the former, as with the common elm and lime, which rarely or never -seed in England, though the latter is so notably frequented by insects -during its flowering season; whilst a third cause is to be found in their -seedling plants being smothered by others, of which we have numerous -examples in our common pasture grasses, which are, perhaps, the most -prejudicial in this respect. -{541} -A most conspicuous example of this is afforded by the common maple, of -which the seedlings come up early in spring by thousands in the -neighborhood of the parent tree, in lawns and plantations, but scarcely -ever survive the smothering effects of the common summer grasses as soon as -these begin to shoot. - -When I visited the cedar grove on Mount Lebanon, in the autumn of 1860, I -found thousands of seedling plants, but every one of them dead; and so -effectual is the annual slaughter of the yearlings in that grove, that, -though the seeds are shed in millions, and innumerable seedlings annually -spring up, there is not a plant in the grove less than about sixty years -old. It may hence have been sixty years since a cedar there survived the -first year of its existence; that is to say, has struggled through its -infancy, and reached the age even of childhood! - -On the other hand, when once the natural conditions of a country have been -disturbed, the spread and multiplication of immigrants is so rapid that it -shortly becomes impossible to discover the limits of the old, indigenous -flora. Take the English flora, for example. If we contrast the cultivated -counties with the uncultivated, the difference of their vegetation is so -great that I have often been compelled to doubt whether many of the most -familiar so called wild flowers of the cultivated counties are indigenous -at all; nay, more, I have been tempted to suspect that some of the more -variable of them, as some species of _chenopodium_ and fumitory, may -have originated since cultivation began. In the uncultivated counties the -proportion of annual plants is exceedingly small, whereas in the cultivated -counties annuals are very numerous; and the further we go from cultivation, -roads, and made ground, the rarer they become, till at last, in the -uninhabited islets of the west coast of Scotland, and in its mountainous -glens, annuals are extremely rare, and confined to the immediate vicinity -of cottages. Let any one who doubts this contrast between the floras of -cultivated and uncultivated regions compare the annuals in such florae as -those of Suffolk or Essex, the North Riding or Cumberland, with those of -the Isle of Wight and the Isle of Arran. And it is not only that annuals -abound in the cultivated districts, but that so many are nearly confined to -ground that is annually or frequently disturbed. The three commonest of all -British plants, for example, are, perhaps, groundsel, shepherd's purse, and -_Poa annua_. I do not remember ever having seen any of these plants -established where the soil was undisturbed, or where, if undisturbed, they -had not been obviously brought by man or the lower animals; and yet I have -gathered one of these, the shepherd's purse, in various parts of Europe, in -Syria, in the Himalayas, in Australia, New Zealand, and the Falkland -Islands. Were England to be depopulated, I believe that in a very few years -these plants, and a large proportion of our common annual "wild flowers," -would become exceedingly rare or extinct, such as the poppies, fumitories, -trefoils, fedias, various species of speed-well, polygonum, mallow, -euphorbia, thlaspi, senebiera, medicago, anthemis, centaurea, linaria, -lamium, etc., etc. - -It is usually said of some of the above-named plants that they prefer -cultivated ground, nitrogenous soil, and so forth; and this is no doubt -true, but that they will flourish where no such advantages attend them, a -very little observation shows; and that they do not continue to flourish -elsewhere is due mainly to the fact that, being annuals, their room is -taken as soon as they die, and the next year's seedling has no chance of -success in the struggle with perennials. - -{542} - -For good instances of this rapid replacement of annuals by perennials, the -new railroad embankments should be examined. Whence the plants come from -which spring up like magic in the cuttings many feet below the surface of -the soil, is a complete mystery, and reminds us of the so-called -spontaneous generation of protozoa in newly made infusions or in distilled -water. In the south of Scotland in 1840-50, and many parts of the north of -England, the first plant that made its appearance was _Equisetum -arvense_, which covered the new-formed banks, for miles and miles, with -the most lovely green forest of miniature pines. In the following year -comparatively few of these were to be seen, and coltsfoot, dandelions, and -other biennials, especially umbelliferae, with a great number of annuals, -presented themselves. For many successive years I had no opportunity of -watching the struggle for life on these banks, but when I last saw them -they were clothed with perennial grasses, docks, plantains, and other -perennial rooted plants. - -The destruction of native vegetations by introduced is a subject that has -only lately attracted much attention, but it has already assumed an aspect -that has startled the most careless observer. Some thirty years ago the -fecundity of the horse and European cardoon in the Argentine provinces of -South America, so graphically described by Sir Edmund Head, drew the -attention of naturalists to the fact that animals and plants did not -necessarily thrive best where found in an indigenous condition; and the -spread of the common Dutch clover, _Trifolium repens_, in North -America, where it follows the footsteps of man through the pathless -forests, has long afforded an equally remarkable instance of vegetable -colonization. Still more recently in South Africa, Australia, and Tasmania, -the Scotch thistle, brier rose, xanthium, plantain, docks, etc., have all -become noxious weeds; and this leads me to the last and most curious point -to which I shall allude in this article, namely, that the same annuals and -other weeds that are held so well in check by the indigenous perennial -plants of our country, when transplanted to others, show themselves -superior to the perennial vegetation of the latter. Of this New Zealand -furnishes the most conspicuous example; it was first visited scarcely more -than 100 years ago, and it is not yet fifty since the missionaries first -settled in it, and scarce thirty since it received its earliest colonists. -The islands contain about 1,000 species of flowering plants, amongst which -no fewer than 180 European weeds have been recorded as intruding themselves -and having become thoroughly naturalized; and probably double that number -will yet be found, as they have never been systematically collected; but -the most curious part of the history is this, that whereas of indigenous -New Zealand plants scarcely any are annual, no less than half the -naturalized European ones are annual. - -Of the effect of these introduced European plants in destroying the native -vegetation, I have given examples in an article that appeared in the -Natural History Review, (January, 1864,) from which I quote the following: - - In Australia and New Zealand, the noisy train of English emigration is - not more surely doing its work than the stealthy tide of English weeds, - which are creeping over the surface of the waste, cultivated, and virgin - soil, in annually increasing numbers of genera, species, and individuals. - Apropos of this subject, a correspondent, (W. T. Locke Travers, Esq., - F.L.S.,) a most active New Zealand botanist, writing from Canterbury, - says: "You would be surprised at the rapid spread of European and other - foreign plants in this country. All along the sides of the main lines of - road through the plains, a _Polygonum_, (_aviculare_,) called - 'cow-grass,' grows most luxuriantly, the roots sometimes two feet in - depth, and the plants spreading over an area from four to five feet in - diameter. The dock (_Rumex obtusifolius_ or _R. crispus_) is to - be found in every river-bed, extending into the valleys of the mountain - rivers until these became mere torrents. -{543} - The sow-thistle is spread all over the country, growing luxuriantly - nearly up to 6,000 feet. The watercress increases in our still rivers to - such an extent as to threaten to choke them altogether; in fact, in the - Avon, a still, deep stream running through Christ Church, the annual cost - of keeping the river free for boat navigation and for purposes of - drainage exceeds £300. I have measured stems twelve feet long and three - quarters of an inch in diameter. In some of the mountain districts, where - the soil is loose, the white clover is completely displacing the native - grasses, forming a close sward. Foreign trees are also very luxuriant in - growth. The gum-trees of Australia, the poplars, and willows particularly - grow most rapidly. In fact, the young native vegetation appears to shrink - from competition with these more vigorous intruders." - -Dr. Haast, F.L.S., the eminent explorer and geologist, also writes to me as -follows: - - "The native (Maori) saying is, 'As the white man's rat has driven away - the native rat, as the European fly drives away our own, and the clover - kills our fern, so will the Maoris disappear before the white man - himself." It is wonderful to behold the botanical and zoological changes - which have taken place since first Captain Cook set foot in New Zealand. - Some pigs, which he and other navigators left with the natives, have - increased and run wild in such a way that it is impossible to destroy - them. There are large tracts of country where they reign supreme. The - soil looks as if ploughed by their burrowing. Some station-holders of one - hundred thousand acres have had to make contracts for killing them at - sixpence per tail, and as many as twenty-two thousand on a single run - have been killed by adventurous parties without any diminution being - discernible. Not only are they obnoxious by occupying the ground which - the sheep farmer needs for his flocks, but they assiduously follow the - ewes when lambing, and devour the poor lambs as soon as they make their - appearance. They do not exist on the western side of the Alps, and only - on the lower grounds on the eastern side where snow seldom falls, so that - the explorer has not the advantage of profiting by their existence, where - food is scarcest. The boars are sometimes very large, covered with long - black bristles, and have enormous tusks, resembling closely the wild boar - of the Ardennes, and they are equally savage and courageous, - - "Another interesting fact is the appearance of the Norwegian rat. It has - thoroughly extirpated the native rat, and is to be found everywhere, even - in the very heart of the Alps, growing to a very large size. The European - mouse follows it closely, and, what is more surprising, where it makes - its appearance, it drives, in a great degree, the Norway rat away. - Amongst other quadrupeds, cattle, dogs, and cats are found in a wild - state, but not abundantly. - - "The European house-fly is another importation. When it arrives, it - repels the blue-bottle of New Zealand, which seems to shun its company. - But the spread of the European insect goes on very slowly, so that - settlers, knowing its utility, have carried it in boxes and bottles to - their new inland stations." - -But the most remarkable fact of all has been communicated to me since the -above was printed, namely, that the little white clover and other herbs are -actually strangling and killing outright the New Zealand flax, (_Phormium -tenax_,) a plant of the coarsest, hardest, and toughest description, -that forms huge matted patches of woody rhizomes, which send up tufts of -sword-like leaves six to ten feet high, and inconceivably strong in texture -and fibre. I know of no English plant to which the New Zealand flax can be -likened so as to give any idea of its robust constitution and habit to -those who do not know it; in some respects the great matted _tussocks_ -of _Carex paniculata_ approach it. -{544} -It is difficult enough to imagine the possibility of white clover invading -our bogs, and smothering the tussocks of this carex, but this would be -child's play in comparison with the resistance the phormium would seem to -offer. - -The causes of this prepotency of the European weeds are probably many and -complicated; one very powerful one is the nature of the New Zealand -climate, which favors the duration of life in individuals, and hence gives -both perennials and annuals a lengthened growing season, and, in the case -of some, more than one seed crop in the year. This is seen in the tendency -of mignonette and annual stocks to become biennial and even perennial, in -the indigenous form of _Cardamine hirsuta_ being perennial, and in the -fact that many weeds that seed but once with us seed during a greater part -of the year in New Zealand. Another cause must be sought in the fact that -more of their seeds escape the ravages of birds and insects in New Zealand -than in England; the granivorous birds and insects that follow cultivation -not having been transported to the antipodes with the weeds, or, at least, -not in proportionate numbers. - -Still the fact remains as yet unaccounted for, that annual weeds, which, -except for the interference of man, would with us have no chance in the -struggle with perennials, in New Zealand have spread in inconceivable -quantities into the wildest glens long before either white men or even -their cattle and flocks penetrate to their recesses. Such is the testimony -of Drs. Haast and Hector, and Mr. Travers, the original explorers of large -areas of different parts of the almost uninhabited middle island, and who -have sent to me, as native plants, from hitherto unvisited tracts, British -weeds that were not found in the island by the careful botanists (Banks, -Solander, Forster, and Sparrmann) who accompanied Captain Cook in his -voyages; and which were not found by the earlier missionaries, but which of -late years have abounded on the lowlands near every settlement. - -This subject of the comparative great vis-vitae of European plants, as -compared with those of other countries, involves problems of the highest -interest in botanical science, and the subject is as novel as it is -interesting; it is quite a virgin one, and requires the calmest and most -unprejudiced judgment to treat it well. It cannot be doubted that the -progress of civilization in Europe and Asia has, whilst it has led to the -incessant harassing of the soil, led also to the abundant development of a -class of plants, annual, biennial, and perennial, which increase more -rapidly and obtain a greater development when transplanted to the Southern -hemisphere than they have hitherto done in the Northern, and that, in this -respect, they contrast strikingly with the behavior of plants of the -Southern hemisphere when transplanted to the Northern; and hitherto no -considerations of climate, soil, or circumstance have sufficed to explain -this phenomenon. - ------- - -{545} - - Original. - - The Leaf of Last Year - - I know I am dry and decayed; - My skin is all yellow and sere; - I know I ought not to have staid - To become an old leaf of last year. - - You are youthful, and merry, and green. - I feel like a stranger up here; - And can see you're ashamed to be seen - By the side of a leaf of last year. - - My wrinkled and shrivelled up face - Excites you to laugh and to sneer; - And the branch thinks that this is no place - For an old-fashioned leaf of last year. - - I can tell, as you toss your proud heads, - What you whisper in each other's ear: - "Old leaves should be gone to their beds, - 'Tis no time for a leaf of last year." - - You may flirt with the amorous winds; - With your joys I will not interfere: - But I'm sad; for my heart it reminds - How they jilted a leaf of last year. - - Ay! flatter and laugh with the breeze, - You may think that its love is sincere, - But I know what it said to the trees - When I was a young leaf last year. - - "Each one of these silly green leaves - Is so flattered if I but come near, - That she dances, and smiles, and believes - I most surely will wed her this year. - - "With soft kisses the hours I beguile; - And their prattling is pleasant to hear. - When I tire, I depart with a smile - And a promise to meet them next year." - - Then it came to my side with a bow, - Embraced me, and called me its 'dear.' - I was foolish to trust it, and now - It forgets its old love of last year. - -{546} - - Away the false summer breeze hied; - And my fibres all quivered with fear. - One by one my mates withered and died, - And left me alone till this year. - - Soon autumn will come with its blast. - And your beauty will, too, disappear. - When you think on the joys that are past, - You'll remember the leaf of last year. - - This morn, when the sun rose, I wept; - On my cheek lingers yet a bright tear: - 'Twas a dew-drop fell there whilst I slept - And was dreaming about the last year. - - Not long will I cumber the tree, - For my hour of departure is near; - And your beautiful branch will be free - Of its faded old leaf of last year. - ------- - - Original. - - The Influence of the Catholic Church Upon Modern Art. - - -As in many a sacred painting the divine persons are seen descending upon -earth, attended by angels who, with trumpets, unheard by men, announce the -visitation; so religion, revealed to prepare men for the next world, sits -enthroned in this with all the arts, its ministers and servants. It is a -glory of the Catholic Church that it has recognized to the utmost the -spirituality of art. It has denied the dogma, of all dogmas the most -absurd, that with the use of the highest powers of the imagination, and -with delight in the beauty with which God has clothed the world, his -worship is incompatible. It has not made piety a thing ugly, repulsive, -barren; a mere assent of the will to an abstraction. The child of the -church, standing in a world where the rainbow bends above him, and sunset -opens the burning gates of heaven, is not taught to believe the seven -colors the seven sins, or, at least, but secular beauty, to be banished -from the house of worship; with the voices of birds' and winds, and waters, -and the gothic grandeur of forests around him, he is not taught that music -and architecture interfere with piety, or, if used at all in worship, must -be limited to their lowest and simplest forms. Of creeds I do not need to -speak; but this much it is necessary to say in the strict limits of my -subject, that the world owes to Catholicism so much of its music, and -painting, and architecture, that, had the world been without the church, -these arts, though of human origin, and though highly developed before the -Christian era, would in their modern forms probably be still in their -infancy. In sculpture, undoubtedly, the Greeks surpassed even Michael -Angelo; the statues of Phidias, though in ruins, are the wonder and despair -of artists. The Roman empire built temples, roads, aqueducts, the -Colosseum, and, when it fell, the arts, even in these less imaginative -forms, seem to have fallen with it. -{547} -For a long time there was no art worthy of the name in Europe. Apollo, -blind and dumb, wandered without a home or a temple; for, though in those -centuries there must have been men born to be composers, or painters, or -sculptors, they were born too soon or too late. Athens had fallen; -Christian Rome had not arisen to her destined greatness. So the world -slumbered in darkness till the Catholic Church wrought the miracle by which -the arts were raised from their tombs and made her interpreters and -ministers. This cannot be denied, that she gave the impulse to the revival -of art, encouraged its development, inspired it with energy, and purpose, -and faith, and so sent it forth to bless and transfigure the world. In -every city in Europe she built a cathedral. In Rome, St. Peter's; in Paris, -Notre Dame; in Vienna, the Dom Kirche; in Milan, La Duomo. No town was -without its church, few of them, without beauty, many monuments of the -genius of their builders. Because the Saviour was born in a stable, it was -not held an article of faith that he should be worshipped in barn. The -church believed that the temple should show that it was built not for the -service of man, but of God. To adorn these majestic buildings she summoned -the sister arts. Through the stained windows, - - "The panes - Of ancient churches, passionate - With martyred saints, whom angels wait, - With Virgin and with Crucified," - -the light shone holier for that transfiguration. There the painter told in -language all could read the solemn story of the religion they believed. How -in a manger the Christ was born, and worshipped by the wise men whom the -mysterious star had led from the Chaldean plains; how the holy mother -journeyed with Joseph into Egypt, bearing in her arms the babe who came -into the world himself to bear the burden of its grief; how he taught the -poor and healed the sick, raised Lazarus from the grave, and bade the -Magdalene sin no more; how he spake with God upon the mount, and was -tempted by the fiend, betrayed by Judas, tried by Pilate, and crucified -upon Calvary; how at the foot of the cross the Marys wept all night; and -how, when he was buried, angels rolled away the stone from the sepulchre, -and apostles beheld him ascend into the depths of heaven. Upon the sacred -walls, which were to these pious, worshippers as windows opening into the -Holy Land, they saw miracles, transfigurations, ascensions, the agonies of -martyrs, the adorations of saints, and--vision of all visions fairest--the -tender face of the Virgin bending in prophetic sadness above the infant -Christ. But with other than silent teachers the church appealed to the -soul. Music, whose miraculous voice utters all passions, pains, delights, -and truths, breathed her beautiful religion on the air. She sang of what -Raphael and Titian painted; of the birth, and the death, and the -resurrection; of the prayers of penitence, the anguish of strife, the -rapture of heaven, the torments of hell; and in her voice were heard sobs, -and cries, and supplications, thunders of divine wrath, trumpets of doom -and of redemption, and choruses upon choruses of angels proclaiming the -glory of God. In all the arts the church embodied Christianity; as she -converted souls, so she converted music and painting. By the twelfth -century, nay, before that, all the art of Europe was Catholic. In Italy, -Spain, Germany, wherever a school of art existed, however humble, its -highest aspirations were through the Catholic Church. The ideality of art, -as we may see in its remaining works, was then almost exclusively -religious; to be imaginative was to be pious. Centuries before the dawn of -modern painting, in the silence and seclusion of cloisters, laborious -monks, slowly perfecting their wonderful illuminated missals, were unawares -preparing the advent of Cimabue and Giotto. The tradition that St. Luke was -a painter was carefully cherished by his disciples, who may have found -inspiration in the legend that he painted the portrait of the Saviour. -{548} -Thus it is probable, and other reasons might be cited, that modern art was -not adopted by the church, but, born within its monasteries, was cherished -till it grew too great for them alone, and then, as the child of the -church, turned in natural faith and gratitude to the service of its parent. - -The church was the chief patron of the early painters; it furnished not -only their inspiration, but their occupation. There is little trace of the -earliest Christian art; but Eusebius, whose history was written in the -reign of Constantine, mentions that images of Christ were then common. In -the third century pictures had been generally introduced in the churches of -Palestine. But it was scarcely before the twelfth century that Catholic art -gave promise of that splendor which in later days exalted it above all -rivalry. We find Cimabue famous about the year 1250, and after him Giotto, -almost the father of Italian art, whose portrait of Dante, recently -discovered, is acknowledged as the best likeness we possess of the author -of the greatest Christian poem. He painted the Last Supper of Christ, at -Florence, and an idea of his influence may be formed from the fact that he -had one hundred pupils, some of whom were afterward renowned. To catalogue -the painters of this period would be unnecessary, but their close sympathy -with the church, and the encouragement they received from it, are -unquestionable. In 1308, Duccio, an artist of Sienna, was called upon to -paint an altar-piece, and in his contract pledged himself thus: "I will -execute it according to my best ability, and as the Lord shall grant me -skill." The picture when completed was carried in solemn procession to the -church. When, in 1438, it was proposed to build the Sienna Cathedral, it -was ordained that "no one even suspected of immorality shall be eligible" -to the position of its architect. A more earnest expression of the faith of -the early artists in the dignity of their work, and their religious duty, -is found in the rules adopted by the painters of Sienna in 1335. They held -that, "since we are teachers to ignorant men, and since in God every -perfection is united, we will in our work earnestly ask the aid of the -divine grace." This spirit of devotion gave a higher direction to genius -that might without it have wasted itself in empty and unmeaning tasks; and, -whatever the artist was born to do, he found in the church his opportunity. -To paint, in those days, for the best of those men, was to serve God; to -build, was to build his temples. The purpose ennobled the work. Not merely -with intellect Lorenzo Gbiberti labored when he wrought the doors of the -baptistery in the rear of the cathedral at Florence--doors of which -Michael Angelo exclaimed in his enthusiasm, "Worthy to be the gates of -paradise!" Casts of these wonderful carvings of scriptural subjects, are -exhibited in the Academy of the Fine Arts at Philadelphia. These artists -were the worthy forerunners of greater men--of Domenichino, of Guido, of -Titian, of Murillo, of Correggio, and of Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, and -Michael Angelo. The greatest works of the three latter were upon Christian -themes. The Las Supper, painted by Da Vinci, in 1497, for the Dominican -convent at Milan, is accepted as the crowning proof of genius. The statue -of Moses in St. Peter's, the Last Judgment, and the Dome of St. Peter's are -the master works of the mighty Angelo. Raphael, who began his beautiful -career by painting altar-pieces, in the Transfiguration reached its highest -point, and questionings of the model who sat for his divine madonnas is -idle, for not the loveliness of the face, but the holiness of the spirit -gives them immortality. But I need cite no other instances. The highest -subjects of the Italian painters were found in their religion, and the -church was their most generous patron. -{549} -And not only was this dedication of art to spirituality of direct value to -its intellectual progress, but indirectly it ennobled art that aimed merely -to paint the things of earth and not the dreams of heaven. The less gained -dignity from the sacred office of the greater, and art became more strongly -rooted in that which was of the world, because of its aspiration to that -which was celestial. - -The vast influence of religion upon art is signally exhibited in the -history of English art. Neither painting nor architecture, it is true, had -made much progress in England up to the seventeenth century, as compared -with their success on the continent; for, when Italy was civilized, Great -Britain was still rude, and in certain respects barbarian. Yet the -cathedrals which still exist in ruins, monuments of Gothic grandeur, were -the expressions of a national art in close relation with religion. In -England as in all other countries the Catholic Church gathered around her -the arts. But with a religion which professed to see in images nothing but -idols, in paintings of Christ and the apostles and the prophets nothing but -profanity and blasphemy, came desolation and destruction. The Roundhead was -not satisfied with the downfall of a throne, with the death of one Stuart -and the banishment of that royal line, nor with the proscription of the -Catholic religion. The men who followed Cromwell were iconoclasts, who -destroyed Christian images to set up in their stead an idol of barbarian -bigotry. They fired the churches, they shattered the statues, they made war -upon the pictures of madonnas and martyrs without remorse or fear. They had -driven out the Cavaliers, they were resolved to drive out the saints; and, -as they had banished the church, they were bent upon sending art to keep it -company. They succeeded but too well. Puritan enmity to the employment of -painting in church decoration--the sweeping principle that art and -religion could not be united and had different aims struck a blow at -English art which almost ended it for three reigns. It did not, indeed, -fully recover from the effect until near the close of the eighteenth -century, when, as little more than portraiture, it was re-established by -Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds. To this day it is only in portraiture -and in landscape that a great English school exists. There are many fine -Vandykes, and Lelys, and Reynolds in the galleries of England, and many -landscapes and marines by Gainsborough, Wilson, and Turner; but where is -the historical painter who can be compared with Turner? Haydon, who -bitterly complained that historical painting was not appreciated in -England, and that those who by their wealth and position should have -encouraged it cared only for their own faces on canvas, might have found -the cause of its decline in the absence of any religious inspiration in -English art. He admitted this truth, unconsciously perhaps, when he chose -for his own subjects of "high art" Christ in the Temple and Lazarus coming -from the Tomb. In the landscapes and marines of Turner there is imagination -grander than Claude, or Poussin, or Salvator Rosa possessed; in Wilkie -unsurpassed character is given to humble themes. But the English historical -school is infinitely below English landscape and portraiture. The Boydell -gallery, in which the best artists of the time were employed to illustrate -Shakespeare, is an utter failure. Fuseli was fanciful and coarse; and, -though I know little of Blake's pictures, it is safe to presume they were -not equal to his strange and beautiful poetry. Did he ever realize with the -brush such verses as - - "Tiger, Tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night"? - -Reynolds failed when he sought to be imaginative, as the Death of Dido and -the Deathbed of Cardinal Beaufort are proof. -{550} -The defeat of the repeated efforts to establish an historical school of art -in England must not be ascribed solely to a deficiency of genius in the men -or in the character of the nation. Art and religion were divorced. Men -worshipped God in one way, and painted in another. It is a significant fact -that the pre-Raphaelite school, however objectionable in some respects, -owes its highest success to the religious element which inspires it. -Millais and Hunt proclaim that the rudest art must be spiritual, and thus -seek to atone for centuries of infidelity to that truth. - -Upon music the influence of the church has probably been even greater than -upon painting, certainly as great. With no exaggeration, it may be said -that to write the history of the composers who have written for the church -is to write the history of modern music. What this fact implies will be -understood by those who know that in none other of the arts has the term -modern such significance; for, while ancient painting, sculpture, and -architecture were based upon the same general laws which are now recognized -as absolute, the principles of music, like her own sweet sounds, have -changed and passed away from age to age. There is a known difference -between what may be called the musical ear of this century and that of the -sixteenth. What was then felt to be harmony, and embodied in the works of -the great masters, is now discord. There was a time when consecutive fifths -were common, a fact almost incredible to the musician of to-day. If such -changes have occurred within four or five hundred years, the gulf which -divides ancient and modern music must be deep and wide; and the latter, -having little visible connection or known sympathy with the former, and -originating in Christian Europe, must inevitably owe much of its character -to Catholic civilization. - -The oldest form of music known to us belongs to the church; it is the -Ecclesiastical Chant of St. Ambrose and St. Gregory. The former, near the -close of the fourth century, endeavored to give a fixed form to church -music, and we may judge of his success from his Te Deum. The words and the -the music of this noble canticle are still sung. Of the Ambrosian chant, -St. Augustine wrote: "As the voices flowed into mine ears, truth was -instilled into my heart, and the affections of piety overflowed in tears of -joy." It is said that St. Ambrose composed the Te Deum upon the conversion -of St. Augustine. Two centuries later Pope Gregory vastly improved the -system of sacred music; from him we have the celebrated Gregorian chant, -solemn, severe, and pure, and still heard in Lent and in the Holy Week. -Such value did St. Gregory place upon music that he established a school -for singers at Rome, which flourished till the tenth century. After the -Gregorian chant little reformation in music was accomplished for centuries; -but the next step was also taken within the church when Guido, a -Benedictine monk, early in the eleventh century, discovered the musical -scale now used. Modern rhythm was invented by a French priest about the -same time, and for many years music owed all its progress to religious -enthusiasm. Thus, Odington, an English Benedictine monk, in 1240, wrote De -Speculatione Musicae, and John Muris in the fourteenth century did much to -establish fixed rules of harmony. Counterpoint was slowly developed; the -canon and the fugue were introduced; and the laws of music were gradually -established as the basis of the grander and more ideal genius of the -strictly modern system. We need not follow the history of the art from that -great master Palestrina through the long succession of famous names -destined to be remembered when those of kings are half forgotten. - -From the first it has been seen the church recognized the sacred offices of -music, and did not merely permit, but authorized and developed its use. It -is true that at one time use led to abuse. In the sixteenth century -composers for the church frequently forgot religion in science. -{551} -"In this kind of composition," says Alexander Cheron, "the meaning of the -words was entirely overlooked, and its tendencies were only to the display -of the genius of the composers or the powers of the singers." The evil -became so great that the Council of Trent even deliberated upon the -suppression of music in religious service. Pope Marcellus II. had, indeed, -resolved to banish all music but the Gregorian chant, when Palestrina -composed a mass which made that step unnecessary. It was a revolution. -Solemnity, grandeur, and purity were the elements of the new style, from -which mere bravuras and all levities were excluded. Thus the power which -authorized the employment of music had the influence to redeem it from -degradation, till now the sacred music we possess embodies the genius of -three centuries, and will, perhaps, endure longer than the finest lyric -dramas. That the religious purposes of great masters have had vast -influence upon the merely lyric composition is not to be doubted. We cannot -raise one form of art without raising all. The author of Don Giovanni might -not have achieved the full grandeur of that work had he not also composed -his marvellous masses. Of the influence of Catholic music upon such minds, -an incident in Mozart's life is proof. In his youth he heard the famous -Miserere sung in the Sistine chapel at Rome--that strange and solemn -harmony, composed two hundred years ago by Gregorio Allegri, for the -sublime ceremonial of the Passion week. Pontiff and cardinals, when the -Miserere begins, kneel around the altar, the church is darkened, the voices -swell in tenor, and die into silence. Mozart twice heard this wonderful -work, and then reproduced it note for note, and sang it with the exact -method and feeling of the Sistine choir. And it is said that the effect of -this Miserere upon him may be traced in all his other works. Haydn's piety -is found in all of his music, chiefly in those masses which are known to -all lovers of music. "In nomine Domini," "Soli Deo Gloria," he invariably -wrote at the beginning of his scores, and "Laus Deo" at their end. When -composing, if his imagination failed, he repeated his rosary, and, before -beginning his greater works, he prayed to God for inspiration to praise him -worthily. Of the composers inspired by religion, the list is long; longer, -perhaps, that of those who unconsciously were influenced by it. When Haydn -was asked which of his works he considered the greatest, he replied, The -Seven Words. It was written for the service called the "Funeral of the -Redeemer" at Madrid, in which the seven words uttered by the Saviour on the -cross were uttered by the bishop, who explained each, and between each -exposition Haydn's music in sympathy with the word was given. Upon his -masses he lavished his pains, and generally required twice the time for a -mass that he needed for a symphony. - -Palestrina, Porpora, Clementi, Haydn, Mozart, Rossini, Beethoven, are but a -few of the illustrious masters whose sacred music was dedicated to the -Catholic Church. Handel's religious music was chiefly written for the -English, and is embodied, as well as that of Mendelssohn, in oratorio. But, -for my part, I do not think the form of the oratorio as well fitted for -sacred music as that of the mass. An oratorio is generally sung in a -concert-room; the words are frequently poor adaptations of the language of -the Scriptures; its auditors expect to be entertained. Therefore, though -the music may be perfect in itself, as in the "Total Eclipse" or "I know -that my Redeemer liveth" of Handel, it does not seem that the form is -suited to express the deepest emotions of worship. It is in the Catholic -Church alone that music and religion are wedded. Who can translate into -words the profound devotion inspired by the solemn mass in the cathedral -service? Over the kneeling worshippers, the illuminated altar, the pictures -of the crucifixion and the ascension, the intonation of the priest, "the -dim religious light" shining through the stained windows, Music breathes -her voice. -{552} -As the great organ swells, and the deep-toned choir utters the despair of -the Miserere, the heavenly beauty of the Agnus Dei, the exultation of the -Gloria, the devotion of the Credo, etc., what soul is not bowed in sympathy -with grief, raised with gratitude, or bathed in heavenly peace? I know no -music that has a more profound effect. It is a part of worship. It -expresses something to which words the most eloquent are inadequate. It is -the glory of the Catholic Church, I repeat, that she has so freely -recognized the spirituality of this act, and these who reject her creed are -compelled to admit the propriety and supremacy of her service. How cold are -the musical exercises of other churches, how little they express of this -intense and passionate devotion. I do not think God is served by the -exclusion of his greatest gifts from the ceremonial of worship, and that -point is conceded by all sects which sing his praise. But, if any music is -used, why not the best? If a hymn, why not a mass? If an organ, why not an -orchestra? The objection that the Catholic Church would have its choirs -composed of the best voices, its music written by the greatest composers, -is too absurd to be answered; for, if the highest art is unfit for the -purposes of worship, then by inevitable logic it must be shown that all art -is unfit; those who hold such objections should consistently agree with the -Quakers, and banish the simplest hymn. [Footnote 174] - - [Footnote 174: The writer of this article is not a Catholic.--ED. C.W.] - -More than this, if music may be worthily used, why not painting? The value -of architecture is universally admitted, ever since it was shown by the -Catholic Church, and music is more or less accepted as a mode of adoration -by nearly all sects. Pictures, however, are admitted into Catholic churches -alone. Is, then, the genius of Titian and Raphael less holy than that of -Beethoven or Mozart? Is it right to sing the praise of God in his temple, -wrong to paint the story of the Son of God upon the consecrated walls? We -need not answer such questions, which are only introduced to show how it is -by the Catholic Church alone that the religious influences of the arts have -been first and fully understood, and by it alone that they have been made -agencies of worship. - -Further examination of this important subject cannot now be made, for in -these limits it can be little more than suggested. If we generalize, we -discover that all the great artists, in architecture, painting, and music -have found their highest employment in the church, and that its history -includes their biographies. Of its present influence it is unnecessary to -speak, but it is felt most in architecture, at least in this country; the -noblest church edifice in Philadelphia, perhaps in any American city, is -incomparably the new cathedral. From what has been said, the depth, and -extent, and value of the influence of the church upon art may be inferred; -but no one can imagine the condition of our art had it been without the -inspiration of religion. Majestic and venerable stands the Church of Rome; -upon her walls the arts have registered their victories; for her the muses -have forsaken the summits of Parnassus; to her the poet, painter, and -musician have dedicated their genius; and, giving all they brought to her -humblest and poorest worshipper, she has repaid the masters with perpetual -recognition and universal fame. Far as her realm extends are known the -glories of Raphael, and Angelo, and Mozart. - ------- - -{553} - - - Original. - - Adelaide Anne Procter. - - -Next to imagination, genius is, perhaps, the faculty of the human mind -about which we have had the most instructiveness and the least instruction. -Yet every one who knows anything of it at all knows the two great types of -genius that appear in history--extremes between which lie all minds of -mark. One is the familiar form that the word itself at once suggests--the -regular fashion, as it were, of being exceptional. This is the erratic, -fitful, uncontrolled, keen, brilliant, sensitive, sympathetic, eccentric -character, who wears regardless collars, fights his publisher on less than -no provocation, eats opium if he chooses, and sometimes chooses--or, if not -opium, some other stimulant--has whims and moods and irritabilities, and -the biggest heart, and the best tongue, and the most heedless head, with -the most brilliant oddities in it, wherever he goes--a totally lopsided -organism, where the soul cannot be kept from wearing its way through the -body, and where a few faculties, preternaturally developed, domineer over a -warped and stunted system, to the ultimate ruin of the whole man. - -The other kind, calm, clear, broad, poised, equable, powerful, seems -exactly the opposite of the first type. The strength of the one is in -balance, the force of the other in overbalance. Yet the difference is only -that the man of balance is symmetrically developed; it is the difference -between the autumn maturity of the full-grown fruit and the hectic -ripeness, with the worm at the core, of the August windfall. - -Of these two types, the first is vastly the more frequent, the other the -higher in history. The reason is simply this, that a moderate degree of -uniform development gives neither more nor less than mediocrity, while -disproportionate preponderance of the intellect, even where all the -faculties are below the average, will reproduce in miniature all the -phenomena of the overbalanced kind of genius. Between Byron Don-Juanning it -over his gin-and-water, and the brilliant Bohemian who dashes off the -cleverest leader of the next day, fresh from the convivial influences of a -roystering champagne supper, and the gentle youth who floods the rural -poet's corner with heaven-scaling hankerings inspired by green tea, the -difference is not in kind, but in degree. - -Men of this order are the ones who achieve fame and famine. Their blossoms -of promise are bright, their early graves are green on all the paths of -human progress. History kindles at their high hopes and deeds, and blushes -for the petty failings that suffice to drag them down. Literature, above -all, is a very Golgotha, all the ghastlier for its glory, of their -self-conscious sensitiveness, their refined self-torture, their blasted -lives and miserable deaths. Yet there is hardly one but has his little day, -longer or shorter, but with always some little sunshine and flowers of -popular favor. Stimulated to their utmost by susceptibility to praise, they -are the most brilliant and _bizarre_ in effects, and the most blindly -admired. Besides, their eccentricities are an advertisement in themselves, -and very often first attract the attention which afterward discovers the -powers underneath. The world, on the contrary, finds nothing about the -other sort of genius to display any peculiar capabilities--a sort of -pleasant self-completeness, it may be, but no salient points and queer -angles--and passes on, to gape at the man with half the brains and nothing -to balance them. -{554} -Byron woke up one morning and found himself famous: some one in Elizabeth's -reign made a list (is it not D'Israeli who preserves it?) of the best -writers of his day, whereon the _thirteenth_ name is that of the -successful London manager and decidedly good fellow, William Shakspeare. - -In fact, this latter type of genius is not only rare as all well-poised -organisms are rare, but seems to evade public appreciation by some hidden -inherent law of its nature. It has often happened with men of this order -that not only their families--of course, it is the exception, if a man's -family ever discover his powers till the rest of the world thunders his -fame into their ears--but their daily acquaintance, their most intimate -friends, nay, themselves, never suspect their greatness. - -But, if such a man of genius is an event of his generation, and, with all a -man's opportunities for appreciation, activity, acquaintance, and, above -all, women and their ennobling influence, to bring out his best energies, -often dies undiscovered, what chance is there for a woman of kindred -abilities to struggle into the light of recognition? In literature, men are -the severest judges of women possible, except, of course, their own sex. To -the best of them the expression "woman of genius" is the mythical relic of -some lost tradition as old as Sappho's day, and "women's thought" a -contradiction in terms. All their experience teaches them to disbelieve in -it utterly. The truth is, most women think very ill in print. The cause -lies less in their nature than in their second nature of education. Their -thought is beautiful enough--beauty is their mental as their bodily -characteristic--but seldom strong, and then its strength is that of the -tempered Toledo rather than the shearing Andrea Ferrara. It comes in April -gleams from behind cloud after cloud. They lack concentration, terseness, -sequence; in a word, training. This breeds, with mainly correct thought, -constant loose digressions, diffuseness of expression, and dilution of -ideas. (Hence that saddest thing on the earth, wherein women writers so -abound, the _unexceptionable_ poem.) It seems as though women wrote as -if conversing, forgetting how much of the charm is in themselves and -evaporates on the pen. Every reader has noticed how the writings, and, -above all, the poems, of really extraordinary women--women that men of mind -looked up to--are to us such monuments of apparent mediocrity that we -wonder what they found to worship. The most impartial critic's nose -inclines involuntarily heavenward the moment a woman comes forward to claim -any intellectual place of honor. And genius, the highest quality, man's -special prerogative--horror of horrors! All reason says it cannot be; and -underneath a subtle male _esprit de corps_ too often adds that it -shall not be. Of course, the intruder cannot climb the heights, but to -avoid accidents and disappointment she is seldom suffered to try. Such are -the difficulties which beset the path of even the most favored female -aspirant. - -It ought not to surprise us, then, that Adelaide Anne Procter, even had she -been the most pushing and irrepressible of blue-stockings, with every -vantage-ground of circumstance, was not appreciated as she deserved. But, -in addition to the original sin of being a woman, several reasons peculiar -to herself concurred to render her, what we think she has been, one of the -most underrated writers of her day. - -First, she was an Englishwoman. Had she not been, she might never have been -anything; but once being something, we do not think it was an utterly -inestimable advantage. For, as being English, every one took for granted -that she must be a Protestant, and every one was disappointed and provoked -to find her a Catholic. Now one of the circumstances which mitigate the -glory of being English is that there is very little _achromatic_ -criticism in England. As a wise and keen analyst [Footnote 175] complains, -each of the reviews has some set of theses nailed to its doors, whose -upholding is the first thing, to which all their criticism proper must -stand subordinate. - - [Footnote 175: Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticism.] - - -{555} -English bigotry, under nineteenth century forms, is to-day as patent, as -understood, as calculable a mainspring and motive of public judgment as in -Archbishop Laud's era. Miss Procter's chance of any high praise was thus -never very great. But appearing as she did on the scene of letters at a -time when the Church of England was yet in the full sanctimoniousness of -righteous reaction against the dismembering logic of the Puseyites, any -good there was in her was very safe from discovery by most of the critics. -Had she been a self asserting sectarian, cramming her dogmas, as some of us -did their abolitionism, down her readers' throats, she might have been -hunted down to fame by the indignant zeal of the saintly star-chamberers of -letters, who lead public opinion much as the foam leads the wave. -Unfortunately for this opening, Miss Procter was a lady, and such -self-assertion the most foreign of traits to her nature. Not loud enough -for martyrdom, she was just firmly Catholic enough for misjudgment, or -rather for denial of judgment. While the tribunals of criticism could not -avoid taking notice of a book by Barry Cornwall's daughter, still, with all -the little good and ill the reviewers said of her, they never did her the -one essential service they could render, of putting her name where the -reading public would see it and pass judgment on her. There is a way of -praising that keeps off, and a way of blaming that attracts, the mass of -readers. - -With the returning tide of ritualism, she has begun to be more appreciated, -but it is only a beginning. We are so strongly inclined to think her poems -at the outset of a new career in public favor, and we consider that so -little justice has been done her in the critical journals of this country, -that we cannot help feeling toward them accordingly; and so, in range of -our attempted discussion of her merits, and copiousness of citation, we -have treated her in all respects precisely as a new author. - -For we believe sincerely that the clouds of circumstance and prejudice -about Miss Procter's entrance into literary life have obscured from us -poetical powers not only of no common order, but of that calm, self-centred -kind we have spoken of as rare enough in man, and the feminine counterpart -of which is almost unknown in literary history. Her mind is not -Shakespeare's, nor Coleridge's, nor Goethe's, but the resistless river and -the fountain of the rocks may both be the overflow of the same sunless -reservoir in the deep bosom of the mountains. And her poetry is indeed a -fountain of the rocks; pure, placid, deep of source, shaded yet sparkling, -"making a quiet music all its own;" with no torrent nor show of force, yet -musically passing all obstacles, and emerging, clear, bright, and -beautiful, in the sunlight beyond. Most varied and versatile in her choice -of subjects, she brings to all a poetic insight, a freedom and fancy of -expression, a grasp of the topic, and, above all, a strange, noble -earnestness, that altogether make up a style whose quiet charm we had -rather easily illustrate than elaborately fail in describing. - -The key-note of all her writings is thoughtfulness, and withal a peculiar -kind of thoroughness of thought such as we have found in no other woman. -Mrs. Browning (perhaps we ought to add the new Mrs. Augusta Webster, whose -perceptive powers are the theme of the English reviews) is the only one who -ever has analyzed nearly so well, and she and all the others seem only -incidentally, while Miss Procter is habitually, analytical. Her entire -superiority, indeed, is the consequence and corollary of this curious depth -of mind. Bold in abstractions, tender in revealings of the heart, ingenious -in incident and invention, she is sure to have a well-defined thought at -bottom, always suggestive, often philosophic, sometimes profound. The rare -combination of entire femininity with this thinking habit is an originality -in itself. Very novel and very charming is the effect of seeing together -with this strong, clear, searching introspection, all the woman's delicacy -of touch. - -{556} - -But the reader is tired of our generalities, and would much rather see for -himself how well Miss Procter thinks. So we give him a fair example in the -poem called - - - Incompleteness. - - Nothing resting in its own completeness - Can have power or beauty; but alone - Because it leads and tends to further sweetness, - Fuller, higher, deeper than its own. - - _Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning, - Gracious though it be, of her blue hours, - But is hidden in her tender leaning - To the summer's richer wealth of flowers. - - Dawn is fair because the mists fade slowly - Into day, which floods the world with light; - Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy - Just because it ends in starry night._ - - Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow - From strife that in a far-off future lies; - _And angel glances (veiled now by life's sorrow) - Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes._ - - Life is only bright when it proceedeth - Toward a truer, deeper life above; - Human love is sweetest when it leadeth - To a more divine and perfect love. - - Learn the mystery of progression duly: - Do not call each glorious change decay; - But know we only hold our treasures truly, - When it seems as if they passed away. - - Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; - In that want their beauty lies; they roll - Toward some infinite depth of love and sweetness, - Bearing onward man's reluctant soul. - -This poem holds one of the great principles in Miss Procter's very noble -theory of life--a theory abundantly developed in her poems. Her cardinal -axioms would seem to be three: The great rule of life is progression; its -great agent, sorrow; its great fact and end, love. On these pillars she -builds, and 'Incompleteness' is one of the most direct statements of one -part of her creed. Another fine poem, in thought a kind of companion-piece -to this, in which we readily recognize the same underlying thought, is - - - Beyond. - - We must not doubt, or fear, or dread that love for - life is only given, - And that the calm and sainted dead will meet - estranged and cold in heaven: - Oh! love were poor and vain, indeed, based on so - harsh and stern a creed. - - True that this earth must pass away - with all the starry worlds of light, - With all the glory of the day, and calmer tenderness - of night, - For in that radiant home can shine alone - the immortal and divine. - - Earth's lower things--her pride, her fame, - her science, learning, wealth, and power, - Slow growths that through long ages came, - or fruits of some convulsive hour, - Whose very memory must decay--heaven is - too pure for such as they. - - They are complete; their work done. - So let them sleep in endless rest. - Love's life is only here begun, nor is, - nor can be, fully blest; - It has no room to spread its wings, - amid this crowd of meaner things. - - Just for the very shadow thrown upon its - sweetness here below, - The cross that it must bear alone, - and bloody baptism of woe, - Crowned and completed through its pain, - we know that it shall rise again. - - So, if its flame burn pure and bright, - here where our air is dark and dense, - (And nothing in this world of night - lives with a living so intense,) - When it shall reach its home at length, - how bright its light! how strong its strength! - - And while the vain weak loves of earth - (for such base counterfeits abound) - Shall perish with what gave them birth-- - their graves are green and fresh around-- - No funeral song shall need to rise - for the true love that never dies. - - If in my heart I now could fear that, - risen again, we should not know - What was our life of life when here--the - hearts we loved so much below - I would arise this very day - and cast so poor a thing away. - - But love is no such soulless clod; - living, perfected it shall rise, - Transfigured in the light, of God, - and giving glory to the skies: - And that which makes this life so sweet - shall render heaven's joy complete. - - -As a poem, this latter is superior, because it applies beautifully to a -beautiful subject the principle which the other merely enunciates. And the -style is not less remarkable than the ideas. Can anything be more clearly, -calmly _right_ than the thought, more easy, lucid, _real_ than -its utterance? And it is not the bald perspicuity, either, of mere logical -disquisition, but full of suggestion and spirit; and it does not flag; -especially in Beyond there is not a weak line nor lower thought. Now is not -all this refreshing after the diffuse grace and dilute sweetness of female -poetry in general? It is to the run of it as a copse of May's arbutus to a -meadow strewn with buttercups. - -_Apropos_ of this superiority, we find another poem which illustrates -it even more strongly, because so very many women have fluttered about the -same thought. -{557} -Every _femme incomprise_--and what poetess does not think she is one? -is full of it; why have none of them said it so broadly and well as this? - - - Unexpressed. - - Dwells within the soul of every artist - More than all his effort can express, - And he knows the best remains unaltered, - Sighing at what we call his success. - - Vainly he may strive; he dare not tell us - All the sacred mysteries of the skies: - Vainly he may strive; the deepest beauty - Cannot be unveiled to mortal eyes. - - And the more devoutly that he listens, - And the holier message that is sent, - Still the more his soul must struggle vainly, - Bowed beneath a noble discontent. - - No great thinker ever lived and taught you - All the wonder that his soul received; - No true painter ever set on canvas - All the glorious vision he conceived. - - No musician ever held your spirit - Charmed and bound in his melodious chains, - But be sure he heard, and strove to render - Feeble echoes of celestial strains. - - No real poet ever wove in numbers - All his dream, but the diviner part, - Hidden from all the world, spake to him only - In the voiceless silence of his heart. - - So with love; for love and art united - Are twin mysteries; different, yet the same: - Poor, indeed, would be the love of any - Who could find its full and perfect name. - - Love may strive, but vain is the endeavor - All its boundless riches to unfold; - Still its tenderest, truest secret lingers - Ever in its deepest depths untold. - - Things of time have voices, speak and perish: - Art and love speak, but their words must be - Sighings of illimitable forests, - Waves of an unfathomable sea. - -The positive merit of this--passing the odious business of comparison--is, -to our mind, the well-managed amplification of the main thought, and the -swell both of sense and sound at the close, which we find a beauty of high -order. The last two lines especially seize the melodic principle of the -metre, which, beyond almost any other we know, calls for long musical -words. Only "voiceless silence" strikes one as tautological to the last -degree. Miss Proctor very rarely makes outright mistakes, and she may have -seen some subtle sense added by the word "voiceless" that we cannot. All -the silences we have ever known were strictly voiceless, and decidedly apt -to terminate about the time any voice began. - -The next great topic with our poetess is the sweet uses of adversity. She -is never weary of celebrating the beauty and benignity of sorrow. In fact, -she appears to have a personal friendship for misfortune, as the great -elevating and purifying dispensation of earthly existence. Grief, -disappointment, death, are to her philosophy but natural incidents, to be -expected and met without fear--processes tending to the higher result -hereafter. But here is her whole thought, better set forth than we can say -it: - - - Friend Sorrow. - - Do not cheat thy heart and tell her - Grief will pass away, - Hope for fairer times in future - And forget to-day. - Tell her, if you will, that sorrow - Need not come in vain, - Tell her that the lesson taught her - Far outweighs the pain. - - Cheat her not with the old comfort, - "Soon she will forget:" - Bitter truth, alas! but matter - Rather for regret. - Bid her not "Seek other pleasures, - Turn to other things:" - Rather nurse her caged sorrow - Till the captive sings. - - Rather bid her go forth bravely - And the stranger greet, - Not as foes with spear and buckler, - But as dear friends meet; - Bid her with a strong clasp hold her - By her dusky wings, - Listening for the murmured blessing - Sorrow always brings. - -This is only one of a large number of poems full of varied exposition of -these same views. Some are so ingenious and happy that we can hardly resist -quoting them, were it not that, if those were the only qualifications, we -should have to cite the major part of her poems. In fact, this conception -of sorrow as a hidden blessing is peculiarly strong in all she has written. -And yet, while recognizing in tribulation an elevating grace that wins it a -welcome from her heart, she fully feels the sadness, the weariness, the -poverty and pain of earthly lives. A strong instance of this is the "Cradle -Song of the Poor," with its singular, sad refrain: - - "Sleep, my darling, thou art weary, - God is good, but life is dreary." - -{558} - -And the miseries of the poor have evoked the only bitter lines she ever -wrote, which, coming, as they do, the very last in her book, seem almost -like an after-addition--the strange strong lines called "Homeless." There -is a force in some of the lines that reminds us of Hood: - - It is cold, dark midnight, yet listen - To that patter of tiny feet! - Is it one of your dogs, fair lady, - Who whines in the bleak, cold street? - Is it one of your silken spaniels - Shut out in the snow and the sleet? - - My dogs sleep warm in their baskets, - Safe from the darkness and snow; - All the beasts in our Christian England - Find pity wherever they go. - (Those are only the homeless children - Who are wandering to and fro.) - - Look out in the gusty darkness: - I have seen it again and again, - That shadow, that flits so slowly - Up and down past the window-pane: - It is surely some criminal lurking - Out there in the frozen rain! - - Nay, our criminals all are sheltered, - They are pitied and taught and fed: - That is only a sister-woman, - Who has got neither food nor bed: - _And the Night cries, "Sin to be living;" - And the River cries, "Sin to be dead."_ - - ..... - -There is one other piece perhaps even sadder than this when we penetrate -its full, stern significance: - - - The Requital. - - Loud roared the tempest, fast fell the sleet; - A little child-angel passed down the street - With trailing pinions and weary feet. - - The moon was hidden; no stars were bright; - So she could not shelter in heaven that night, - _For the angels' ladders are rays of light._ - - She beat her wings at each window-pane, - And pleaded for shelter, but all in vain: - "Listen," they said, "to the pelting rain!" - - She sobbed, as the laughter and mirth grew higher, - "Give me rest and shelter beside your fire, - And I will give you your heart's desire." - - The dreamer sat watching his embers gleam, - While his heart was floating down hope's bright stream, - So he wove her wailing into his dream. - - The worker toiled on, for his time was brief; - The mourner was nursing her own pale grief: - They heard not the promise that brought relief. - - But fiercer the tempest rose than before, - When the angel paused at a humble door - And asked for shelter and help once more. - - A weary woman, pale, worn, and thin, - With the brand upon her of want and sin, - Heard the child-angel and took her in. - - Took her in gently, and did her best - To dry her pinions; and made her rest - With tender pity upon her breast. - - When the eastern morning grew bright and red, - Up the first sunbeam the angel fled, - Having kissed the woman, and left her--dead. - -Human waifs forgotten by all their kind are a sorrowful picture enough, but -this of a human heart so desolate, so blank, so seared, so far from all -hope or joy in life, that even God its Creator does not deny its supreme -wish to die, is inexpressibly dreary. This is worthy to stand beside -Tennyson's "Mariana in the Moated Grange." - -One touch worth noticing is the fiction by which the angel is detained on -earth; that "the angels' ladders are rays of light." It strikes us as one -of the most ingenious we have ever met, and no less beautiful than happy. -The whole structure of the narrative indeed, is admirable; it is difficult -to see how the parts could be fitted more nicely. This skill Miss Procter -has in an uncommon degree, and all her longer narrative poems exemplify it. - -Of course, such thoughts on life as these last verses contain blend -naturally with noble thoughts on death. Here, again, Miss Procter's -prevailing thoughtfulness has developed her ideas into many beautiful -applications. The lines called "The Angel of Death," which so touchingly -close Charles Dickens's late sketch of her, the sweet, weary "Tryst with -Death," and many others, are examples of this. But among them all there is -none which more truly embodies her conceptions, or which, at the same time, -is more deeply instinct with the hopefulness which underlies all her graver -utterances, than the admirable lines: - - - Our Dead. - - Nothing is our own; we hold our treasures - Just a little time ere they are fled: - One by one life robs us of our treasures: - Nothing is our own except our dead. - - They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping, - Safe for ever, all they took away. - Cruel life can never stir that sleeping; - Cruel time can never seize that prey. - - Justice pales, truth fades, stars fall from heaven: - Human are the great whom we revere; - No true crown of honor can be given, - Till we place it on a funeral bier. - - How the children leave us, and no traces - Linger of that smiling angel hand; - Gone, for ever gone; and in their places - Weary men and anxious women stand. - -{559} - - _Yet, we have some little ones, still ours; - They have kept the baby smile, we know, - Which we kissed one day, and hid with flowers, - On their dead white faces, long ago._ - - When our joy is lost--and life will take it-- - Then no memory of the past remains, - Save with some strange, cruel sting, to make it - Bitterness beyond all present pains. - - _Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrow - Still the radiant shadow, fond regret;_ - We shall find, in some far bright to-morrow - Joy that he has taken, living yet. - - "Is love ours, and do we dream we know it - Bound with all our heart-strings all our own? - Any cold and cruel dawn may show it - Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. - - _Only the dead hearts forsake us never: - Death's last kiss has been the mystic sign - Consecrating love our own for ever, - Crowning it eternal and divine._ - - _So when Fate would fain besiege our city, - Dim our gold or make our flowers fall, - Death, the angel, comes in love and pity - And, to save our treasures, claims them all._ - -Her ideas regarding death are very lofty. They are equally removed from the -timorous, painful harping on dissolution that characterizes the -_underdone_ poetic organism, from the graphic grimness of Miss -Rossetti's class of thinkers, who seem to take a ghastly delight in -anatomizing the subject, and last from the passionate weak welcoming of the -end--the coward courage which dares not live. In a word, Miss Procter was a -Christian. - -In quitting her poems of thought, it will perhaps be well to pretermit our -long course of praise, and speak of the faults of her writing, most of -which are strongest in these very poems. In verbal correctness, she is far -above the average; for so voluminous a writer, singularly free from them. -Still, by G. Washington-Moon-light, we can discover certain errors, -principally of accent or collocation. Some few appear in the verses we have -cited. In "Beyond," "baptism" is made a trisyllable; though, standing where -it does, an appeal might well be taken to the higher equity of rhythm -against the arbitrary technicality of the law of orthoepy. Also, we doubt -if "perfécted" be the best pronunciation to-day. And in "Homeless," in the -expression, - - "Is it one of your dogs, fair lady, - Who whines in the bleak, cold street?" - -it might with all respect for the intelligence of the race at large, and, -above all, for the prodigious latent capabilities of all ladies' dogs--it -might be seriously questioned whether the canine personality is so marked -as to admit of the relative "who." We feel quite sure that the original -idea was to reserve this particular pronoun for selfish mankind, and we -fear that the slow science of grammar is still fettered, even as to the -most marvellous of the dog kind, by the trammelling traditions of -comparative anatomy. - -But such flaws as these are venial, occurring as they do at rare intervals, -in a very large number of verses, written young, and crowded into the -compass of a few years. Many of them were mere passing contributions to the -periodical press of the day, and, taken as a whole, compare to advantage -with the hasty emanations of almost any author. - -In metre Miss Procter achieves no high effects, and attempts none. With -very fair taste in selection of metre, she is by no means an artist in -rhythm, and appears to aim at little or nothing beyond passable metrical -correctness. She is carelessly harsh and incidentally melodious. Once or -twice she tries some sort of irregular or lyric measure, and it appears -rather to impede than aid her accustomed clear flow of thought. - -In style she has two prominent though not great faults. One is her -refinement. She is so refined that it would, even had she reached the full -promise of her life, have prevented her, in all probability, from ever -being broadly popular. Her field is too high and narrow: she deals mainly -with sentiments and sympathies which interest only those who have not only -sorrowed, but reflected. But this blame is praise in itself. The other is -more of a real fault. Miss Procter tempts us to believe that the -diffuseness which we have attributed chiefly to their education has some -foundation in woman's nature itself. -{560} -Different as she is from the ordinary type, her womanhood vindicates -itself, though still in a way of her own. The effect on her style is not -what we spoke of--dilution--but amplification. Sometimes she is led away by -her fertility of illustration to illustrate too much. She holds up the idea -in too many lights, more than are needful to understand her. There is a -little of this even in "Incompleteness," before cited, but the -illustrations are so happy that the effect is not perceived: it is seldom -we are troubled with too many good things in a poem. Very often, however, -this practice of ramifying thoughts into so many applications--one natural -result of her thorough thinking--greatly injures the whole, and almost -always, where there is much of this amplification, it passes beyond the -strict limits of the strongest effect. - -There are, furthermore, some few poems liable to cavil which seem to have -been mere exercises or experiments, and call for other criticism than her -finished performances. Others suffer from their author's inveterate habit -of seizing on every-day subjects. Now and then she takes up one so trite -that all the charm of her manner cannot mend it. The result is like a -pebble set in filigree. - -The only grave artistic fault we ever found in her poems occurs in the -Legend of Provence, one of her best narrative pieces, founded on the -exquisite Legend of the Virgin Mary's assuming the personality and filling -the place of a nun who has proved false to her vows and fled her convent. -Repentant at last, she returns, a worn-out beggar, to die where her -religion died, meets her semblance, recognizes it as what she might have -been, and implores Mary's aid. - - And Mary answered: "From thy bitter past, - Welcome, my child! Oh! welcome home at last! - I filled thy place: thy flight is known to none, - For all thy daily duties I have done; - Gathered thy flowers and prayed, and sung, and slept; - Didst thou not know, poor child, thy place was kept?" - -This strikes us as a tremendous blunder. For the nun to know that her place -was kept would knock the bottom out of the entire legend. Who wouldn't sin -with his pardon drawn up in advance, and entire secrecy and perfect -restoration awaiting the first active twinge of repentance? We cannot -imagine for an instant how Miss Procter could overlook this; unless we have -made some equally egregious error in our understanding of the poem and its -scope. - -We find, or fancy we find, in her writings, a shade of resemblance to the -taste and tact of her father, "Barry Cornwall." Perhaps it was because she -feared her generic tendencies of style, that she has written few or no -songs, and none at all like his sort. If her object was to avoid suspicious -resemblance, she has succeeded. The likeness is utterly intangible, and -there is not a trace anywhere of an imitation most natural to her relations -with him, and which must have proved easy to talent like hers. - -Another noteworthy fact about her is also alluded to by Mr. Dickens. It is -the total absence of humor, and the sober and shaded style of what she has -written. He takes occasion, while speaking of this prevailing seriousness -in one so young, expressly to bar the inference that she was of the -melancholy moonlit sort, and mentions her abundant wit, and keen sense of -the ludicrous, and the joyous quality of her laugh. We do not think an -observant reader would misconceive her, as her kind-hearted biographer -apprehended. She lacks the distinctive element of morbidness. There is a -soundness in her sadness, so to speak, that makes us feel it to be the -shadow of a soul that knows the sunshine also. Mournful people of the true -chronic mournfulness show it far more by taking dismal views of ordinary -subjects than by dealing only in dismal things. But the fact itself -suggests a curious question which our aphorists have not yet answered. How -is it that some men naturally rollick in print, while others, not less -humorous, write nothing but the gravest stuff? -{561} -What made Hood's pen merry on his death-bed, and took the wit so out of -Sydney Smiths's sermons? These two classes are so marked that one would -think there must be a principle of some sort dividing them. Yet no one has -ever laid down this principle. We no more pretend to do this than the rest, -but merely raise the question, leaving it to some future critic to -disentangle us from a most Cartesian dubitation. - -Thus far we have quoted mainly in illustration of Miss Procter's -characteristics. It must not be inferred, however, that there are not in -her books excellences not specially arising out of her peculiar ideas of -life. On the contrary, there are a number of pieces of that provoking class -of good things which we might just as well have written ourselves--only we -didn't. Very few of our friends, though, would think of looking in an -English author for the following strong, spirited protest, written in 1861, -when it was proposed to "strengthen the hands" of the mission for the -conversion of Irish Catholics: - - An Appeal. - - Spare her, O cruel England! - Thy sister lieth low: - Chained and oppressed she lieth; - Spare her that cruel blow. - We ask not for the freedom - Heaven has vouchsafed to thee, - Nor bid thee share with Ireland - The empire of the sea. - Her children ask no shelter-- - Leave them the stormy sky; - They ask not for thy harvests, - For they know how to die; - Deny them, if it please thee, - A grave beneath the sod; - But we do cry, O England, - Leave them their faith in God! - - Take, if thou wilt, the earnings - Of the poor peasant's toil; - Take all the scanty produce - That grows on Irish soil, - To pay the alien preachers - Whom Ireland will not hear-- - To pay the scoffers at the creed - Which Irish hearts hold dear: - But leave them, cruel England, - The gift their God has given; - Leave them their ancient worship, - Leave them their faith in heaven. - - You come and offer learning-- - A mighty gift, 'tis true, - Perchance the greatest blessing, - That now is known to you; - But not to see the wonders - Sages of old beheld - Can they peril a priceless treasure, - The faith their fathers held. - - For in learning and in science - They may forget to pray: - _God will not ask for knowledge - On the great judgment day._ - - When, in their wretched cabins, - Racked by the fever pain. - And the weak cries of their children - Who ask for food in vain; - When, starving, naked, helpless, - From the shed that keeps them warm - Man has driven them forth to perish - In a less cruel storm; - Then, then we plead for mercy; - Then, sister, hear our cry; - For all we ask, O England, - Is--leave them there to die! - Cursed is the food and raiment - For which a soul is sold; - Tempt not another Judas - To barter God for gold. - You offer food and shelter - If they their faith deny; - What do you gain, O England! - By such a shallow lie? - We will not judge the tempted-- - May God blot out their shame-- - He sees the misery round them, - He knows man's feeble frame. - His pity still may save them. - In his strength they must trust - Who calls us all his children. - Yet knows we are but dust. - - Then leave them the kind tending, - Which helped their childish years; - Leave them the gracious comfort - Which dries their mourner's tears; - Leave them to that great mother - In whose bosom they were born, - Leave them the holy mysteries - That comfort the forlorn; - And, amid all their trials, - Let the great gift abide, - Which you, O prosperous England! - Have dared to cast aside. - Leave them the pitying angels, - And Mary's gentle aid, - For which earth's dearest treasures - Were not too dearly paid. - Take back your bribes, then, England, - Your gold is black and dim; - _And if God sends plague and famine, - They can die and go to him._ - -This is by far the most unpolished and unequal thing Miss Procter has ever -written, and full of faults of detail. But, spite of loose texture and -repetition, and weak lines, and identical rhymes, there is a strength in -all the essential features, and a spirit everywhere, that contrast strongly -with the patriotic effusions that we have had so much of these last few -years. - -Another poem which has incidentally attracted no little notice is Homeward -Bound, which anticipates the whole plot of Enoch Arden so completely that -some shallow people felt called upon to say a number of very foolish things -about the coincidence when Enoch Arden came out. -{562} -The chief differences are that the ship-wrecked hero is thrown on a desert -island in the one and captured by Moors in the other. Enoch Arden also -turns away from the agonizing picture of his forfeited home in silence, -while Miss Procter's mariner reveals himself, kisses his wife once more -_as if_ she were his, and departs, leaving the very awkward bigamy -question wide open behind him, and in general evincing a noble ignorance of -the law of England. He also perpetrates the dramatic error of surviving in -a state of marine vagrancy for a quarter of a century. But, though inferior -to Tennyson's, this poem has many excellent touches of pathos and nature, -and must claim, equally with Enoch Arden, the full merit of its simple yet -most telling conception. - -_Apropos_ of resemblances, we are tempted to quote another of her best -known poems, both for its real beauty and because it subtly reminds us of -Longfellow, and we should be thankful if some one would only tell us why: - - - The Storm. - - The tempest rages wild and high; - The waves lift up their voice and cry - Fierce answers to the angry sky. - _Miserere Domine_ - - Through the black night and driving rain, - A ship is struggling, all in vain, - To live upon the stormy main. - _Miserere Domine_ - - The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, - Vain is it now to strive or dare; - A cry goes up of great despair. - _Miserere Domine_ - - The stormy voices of the main, - The moaning wind and pelting rain - Beat on the nursery window-pane, - _Miserere Domine_ - - Warm curtained was the little bed, - Soft pillowed was the little head: - "The storm will wake the child," they said. - _Miserere Domine_ - - Cowering among his pillows white, - He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, - "Father, save those at sea to-night!" - _Miserere Domine_ - - The morning shone all clear and gay - On a ship at anchor in the bay, - And on a little child at play. - _Gloria tibi Domine!_ - - -Out of many which commend themselves, we select only one more, a little gem -which we were surprised and pleased to find copied the other day in a -little New York evening paper. We think it very suggestive and sweet. - - - A Lost Chord - - Seated one day at the organ, - I was weary and ill at ease, - And my fingers wandered idly - Over the noisy keys. - - I do not know what I was playing, - Or what I was dreaming then, - But I struck one chord of music - Like the sound of a great Amen. - - It flooded the crimson twilight - Like the close of an angel's psalm, - And it lay on my fevered spirit - With a touch of infinite calm. - - It quieted pain and sorrow, - Like love overcoming strife; - It seemed the harmonious echo - From our discordant life. - - It linked all perplexed meanings - Into one perfect peace, - And trembled away into silence - As if it were loth to cease. - - I have sought, but I seek it vainly, - That one lost chord divine, - That came from the soul of the organ, - And entered into mine. - - It may be that Death's bright angel - Will speak in that chord again, - It may be that only in heaven - I shall hear that grand Amen. - - -We have yet to speak of one great element in these poems, their religion. -With those who are born and bred in a church, their belief sits on them -like their clothes--becomes a part of themselves. With converts it is -oftener like a badge which they are proud to wear, and which some are fond -of displaying. Miss Procter's was one of those rare natures in which -religion seems to stain back, as it were, and color the very fountain-heads -of all thought and impulse, as they are colored by the associations of -childhood. In her, it was not like regalia for the processions of life or a -reserve fund for emergencies, but thoroughly assimilated and vitalized; a -_living_ faith; an actual, practical element in her daily doings, as -present in her consciousness as her own individuality. Nor had she any of -the combativeness of converts, whose zeal is apt sometimes to be -aggressively meek and intolerantly lowly. Hers was a faith full of the -charity that judges not. -{563} -Like all real feeling, it never obtrudes itself, and never shrinks from -appearing in its proper place. Thus she has very few devotional and no -sectarian pieces at all in her Legends and Lyrics, but once professedly -entering on that line of thought, in her Chaplet of Verses, she is both -Christian and Catholic throughout. - -Yet among the few devotional pieces in the earlier series we find one of -the best: - - - The Peace of God. - - We ask for peace, O Lord! - Thy children ask thy peace; - Not what the world calls rest, - That toil and care should cease; - That through bright sunny hours - Calm life should fleet away, - And tranquil night should fade - In smiling day: - It is not for such peace that we would pray. - - We ask for peace, Lord! - Yet not to stand secure, - Girt round with iron pride, - Contented to endure; - Crushing the gentle strings - That human hearts should know, - Untouched by others' joy - Or others' woe: - Thou, dear Lord! wilt never teach us so. - - We ask thy peace, Lord! - Through storm, and fear, and strife, - To light and guide us on - Through a long, struggling life: - While no success or gain - Shall cheer the desperate fight, - Or nerve what the world calls - Our wasted might; - Yet pressing through the darkness to the light. - - It is thine own, Lord! - Who toil while others sleep; - Who sow with loving care - What other hands shall reap: - They lean on thee entranced - In calm and perfect rest: - Give us that peace, Lord! - Divine and blest, - Thou keepest for those hearts who love thee best. - - -Very like this in sentiment are several of her best pieces, "Per Pacem ad -Lucem," "Ministering Angels," and "Thankfulness." There are a number also -addressed to the Virgin Mary, the best of which are too long for insertion. -It is this which will restrict our quotations to one more piece, which -breathes that lofty ardor that every struggling Christian has felt in his -brighter hours of exaltation, and sighed to know that common moods cannot -rise to it. - - - Our Titles. - - Are we not Nobles? we who trace - Our pedigree so high - That God for us and for our race - Created earth and sky, - And light and air and time and space, - To serve us and then die? - - Are we not Princes? we who stand - As heirs beside the throne, - We who can call the promised land - Our heritage, our own; - And answer to no less command - Than God's, and his alone? - - Are we not Kings? both night and day, - From early until late, - About our bed, about our way, - A guard of angels wait; - And so we watch and work and pray - In more than royal state. - - ...... - - Are we not more? our life shall be - Immortal and divine. - The nature Mary gave to thee, - Dear Jesus, still is thine: - Adoring in thy heart I see - Such blood as beats in mine. - - O God! that we can dare to fail - And dare to say we must! - O God! that we can ever trail - Such banners in the dust, - Can let such starry honors pale - And such a blazon rust! - - Shall we upon such titles bring - The taint of sin and shame? - Shall we, the children of the King, - Who hold so grand a claim, - Tarnish by any meaner thing - The glory of our name? - - -But, although just to-day, in the present undeveloped state of woman's -intellect, Miss Procter may strike us most by her advance in thought beyond -her sex, she has a far higher claim on us for the admiration due to true -womanhood. Where do these poets school their souls, that they come forth -full of the experience of threescore years and ten? We know that Miss -Procter died in the prime and summer of her days, with most of the great -epochs and experiences of a woman's life yet before her. It is not even -said that she ever loved; for the sake of him who should lose her, we hope -it may be so. Yet her poems hold more tenderness and truth, more of real -love, its anxiety, faith, fulfilment, more of woman's inner life, than any -ten of the sweet soft natures who have taken these things to be their sole -province; who fancy their inkstands are in their souls, and devote a -lifetime of harmless harpings to rhyming some flutterings of heart and more -flutterings of nerves. -{564} -Here, as everywhere, we meet with Miss Procter's unfailing force and -clearness, and tremble at first to meet it. For of all agonizing things (as -many a sensitive nature can testify) there is none like the unconscious -cruelty of pure intellect when it comes to deal with the strange -intuitions, the noble unreason, the holy follies of the heart. But hand in -hand with her inborn analysis comes such a womanhood, so deep, so delicate, -so full of sympathy and sweet counsel, as passes words. This union it is, -as we said before, that stamps Miss Procter a poet. We men cannot half -appreciate this; the sisterhood of sex that her poems must establish with -women who have loved and suffered is for some woman only to set forth. - -It is difficult to choose any one poem which stands pre-eminent in these -qualities. One which will show her insight into the seemingly contradictory -impulses of a woman's breast is - - - A Woman's Question. - - Before I trust my fate to thee, - Or place my hand in thine; - Before I let thy future give - Color and form to mine, - Before I peril all for thee. - Question thy soul to-night for me. - - I break all slighter bonds, nor feel - A shadow of regret: - Is there one link within the past - That holds thy spirit yet? - Or is thy faith as clear and free - As that which I can pledge to thee? - - Does there within thy dimmest dreams - A possible future shine, - Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe - Untouched, unshared by mine? - If so, at any pain or cost, - Oh! tell me before all is lost. - - Look deeper still. If thou canst feel - Within thy inmost soul - That thou hast kept a portion back, - While I have staked the whole, - Let no false pity spare the blow, - But in true mercy tell me so. - - Is there within thy heart a need - That mine cannot fulfil? - One chord that any other hand - Could better wake or still? - Speak now--lest at some future day - My whole life wither and decay. - - Lives there within thy nature hid - The demon-spirit Change, - Shedding a passing glory still - On all things new and strange? - It may not be thy fault alone-- - But shield my heart against thy own. - - Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day, - And answer to my claim - That fate, and that to day's mistake-- - Not thou had been to blame? - Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou - Wilt surely warn and save me now. - - Nay, answer _not_--I dare not hear, - The words would come too late; - Yet I would spare thee all remorse, - So comfort thee, my fate-- - Whatever on my heart may fall, - Remember, I _would_ risk it all. - - -The strength of this is in the rendering of that eloquent instinct of love -which intuitively strikes the most responsive chord. Here it hits on the -strongest appeal a woman can make to a man--to save her against himself. -And no one can deny the boldness and beauty of the closing turn of thought. - -The following poem bears a strong resemblance to the last in tone and train -of analysis, with an element of calm fruition instead of the utter -devotion. The one is love's June of trust; the other its September of -fulfilment. - - - A Retrospect. - - From this fair point of present bliss, - Where we together stand, - Let me look back once more, and trace - That long and desert land - Wherein till now was cast my lot, - And I could live, and thou wert not. - - ...... - - What had I then? A hope that grew - Each hour more bright and dear, - The flush upon the eastern skies - That showed the sun was near. - Now night has faded far away, - My sun has risen, and it is day. - - A dim ideal of tender grace - In my soul reigned supreme; - Too noble and too sweet, I thought, - To live save in a dream; - Within thy heart to-day it lies, - And looks on me from thy dear eyes. - - Some gentle spirit--love, I thought-- - Built many a shrine of pain; - Though each false idol fell to dust, - The worship was not vain, - But a faint radiant shadow, cast - Back from our love upon the past. - - And grief, too, held her vigil there; - With unrelenting sway, - Breaking my cloudy visions down, - Throwing my flowers away: - I owe to her fond care alone - That I may now be all thine own. - - Fair joy was there: her fluttering wings - At time she strove to raise; - Watching through long and patient nights, - Listening long eager days: - I know now that her heart and mine - Were waiting, love, to welcome thine. - - Thus I can read thy name throughout, - And, now her task is done, - Can see that even that faded past - Was thine, beloved one. - And so rejoice my life may be - All consecrated, dear, to thee. - - -{565} - -There could scarcely be a truer sign of poetic power than the fidelity and -finish of some of these heart-pictures. Out of many others we select two -for contrast: one tracing the deep, dreary introspection of passive -suffering; the other following out the subtle, restless impulses of pain -with pangs. The first we take from a longer poem, "Philip and Mildred." - - - Dawn of day saw Philip speeding on his road to the great city, - Thinking how the stars gazed downward just with Mildred's patient eyes. - Dreams of work and fame and honor struggling with a tender pity, - Till the loving past receding saw the conquering future rise. - - Daybreak still found Mildred watching, with the wonder of first sorrow, - How the outward world unaltered shone the same this very day, - How unpitying and relentless human life met this new morrow-- - Earth, and sky, and man unheeding that her joy had passed away. - - Then the round of weary duties, cold and formal, came to meet her, - With the life within departed that had given them each a soul; - And her sick heart even slighted gentle words that came to greet her; - For grief spread its shadowy pinions, like a blight, upon the whole. - - _Jar one chord, the harp is silent; move one stone, the arch is shattered; - One small clarion-cry of sorrow bids an armed host awake. - One dark cloud can hide the sunlight; loose one string, the pearls are scattered; - Think one thought, a soul may perish; say one word, a heart may break._ - - Life went on, the two lives running side by side, the outward seeming, - And the truer and diviner hidden in the heart and brain: - Dreams grow holy put in action, work grows fair through starry dreaming: - But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain. - - -We hardly know which to like the better, the description itself or the -moralizing. Very different, very far from moralizing, and yet even more to -the life, is - - - A Comforter. - - "Will she come to me, little Effie, - Will she come to my arms to rest, - And nestle her head on my shoulder, - While the sun goes down in the west? - - "I and Effie will sit together - All alone in this great arm-chair: - Is it silly to mind it, darling, - When life is so hard to bear? - - "No one comforts me like my Effie. - Just, I think, that she does not try, - Only looks with a wistful wonder - Why grown people should ever cry; - - "While the little soft arms close tighter - Round my neck in their clinging hold: - Well, I must not cry on your hair, dear, - For my tears might tarnish the gold. - - "I am tired of trying to read, dear; - It is worse to talk and seem gay; - There are some kinds of sorrow, Effie, - It is useless to thrust away. - - "Ah! advice may be wise, my darling, - But one always knows it before; - And the reasoning down one's sorrow - Seems to make one suffer the more. - - "But my Effie won't reason, will she? - Or endeavor to understand; - Only holds up her mouth to kiss me, - As she strokes my face with her hand. - - "If you break your plaything yourself, dear, - Don't you cry for it all the same? - I don't think it is such a comfort, - One has only one's self to blame. - - "People say things cannot be helped, dear, - But then that is the reason why; - For, if things could be helped or altered - One would never sit down to cry. - - "They say, too, that tears are quite useless - To undo, amend, or restore: - When I think _how_ useless, my Effie, - Then my tears only fall the more. - - "All to-day I struggled against it, - But that does not make sorrow cease; - And now, dear, it such a comfort - To be able to cry in peace. - - "Though wise people would call that folly, - And remonstrate with grave surprise, - We won't mind what they say, my Effie; - We never professed to be wise. - - "But my comforter knows a lesson - Wiser, truer than all the rest, - That to help and to heal a sorrow, - Love and silence are always best. - - "Well, who is my comforter tell me! - Effie smiles, but she will not speak, - Or look up through the long, curled lashes - That are shading her rosy cheek. - - "Is she thinking of talking fishes, - The blue-bird, or magical tree? - Perhaps I am thinking, my darling, - Of something that never can be. - - "You long, don't you, dear, for the genii, - Who were slaves of lamps and of rings? - And I--I am sometimes afraid, dear, - I want as impossible things. - - "But, hark! there is nurse calling Effie! - It is bedtime, so run away; - And I must go back, or the others - Will be wondering why I stay. - - "So good-night to my darling Effie; - Keep happy, sweetheart, and grow wise: - There's one kiss for her golden tresses - And two for her sleepy eyes." - - -We do not know where to look for anything like this. It is so graphic, so -simple, so true. We, at least, never _realized_ a scene so vividly, so -minutely, with all the details we would notice if it actually happened, and -not a touch beyond, unless perhaps after reading Maud Müller. -{566} -The kind of force is in many respects the same, except that the woman-poet, -as usual, says what the man-poet suggests of the inner life underlying. But -it is excellently said, so well that one mentally declines to apply the -principles of aesthetics, which would dictate Whittier's method as the more -thoroughly artistic. How well the whole logic, or illogic, of that grand -solace, a good cry, is given, and how natural and how sweet if one could -only chance on an Effie that would not tell nurse all about it, to have a -little "comforter" that would only know the grief and never care for the -causes! - -We have only one more poem to quote--one which we consider in many respects -Miss Procter's best. If feeling, delicacy, pathos, truth, make beauty and -poetry, this alone ought to entitle its author to distinction. Bare of all -factitious ornament, carrying no overload of elegances, it goes straight to -the heart of every mother, and strikes the deepest key-note in the organism -of the world--motherhood. And it seems to us that, if all men today were to -league against her memory, this poem should win her an immortality in the -hearts of womankind: - - - Links With Heaven. - - Our God in heaven, from that holy place - To each of us an angel guide has given; - But mothers of dead children have more grace, - For they give angels to their God and heaven. - - How can a mother's heart feel cold or weary, - Knowing her dearer self safe, happy, warm? - How can she feel her road too dark or dreary, - Who knows her treasure sheltered from the storm? - - How can she sin? Our hearts may be unheeding, - Our God forgot, our holy saints defied; - But can a mother hear her dead child pleading, - And thrust those little angel hands aside? - - Those little hands stretched down to draw her ever - Nearer to God by mother love: we all - Are blind and weak, yet surely she can never, - With such a stake in heaven, fail or fall. - - She knows that, when the mighty angels raise - Chorus in heaven, one little silver tone - Is hers forever; that one little praise, - One little happy voice, is all her own. - - We may not see her sacred crown of honor, - But all the angels flitting to and fro - Pause smiling as they pass--they look upon her - As mother of an angel whom they know; - - One whom they left nestled at Mary's feet-- - The children's place in heaven--who softly sings - A little chant to please them, slow and sweet, - Or, smiling, strokes their little folded wings; - - Or gives them her white lilies or her beads - To play with: yet, in spite of flower or song, - They often lift a wistful look that pleads - And asks them why their mother stays so long. - - Then our dear Queen makes answer she will call - Her very soon: meanwhile they are beguiled - To wait and listen while she tells them all - A story of her Jesus as a child. - - Ah! saints in heaven may pray with earnest will - And pity for their weak and erring brothers; - Yet there is prayer in heaven more tender still, - The little children pleading for their mothers. - - -In conclusion, we think the world will not know for a while yet how much it -has lost in Adelaide Anne Procter. Her time to be missed will come when -Catholic England will need to be represented in the national literature. -For those who will force it into recognition, there will of necessity be -strong rather than fine intellects. Then the world will turn back to her -pages, and wish she were but there to represent Catholicity in England; -then she will be carefully read, and, once this happens, her place is -assured. And yet, even then, we can never know her as she was; for beyond -almost any author we recall, Miss Procter impresses us as being far -superior to her works. She is the best of examples of her own doctrine of -imperfect expression. The fulness and fineness of her nature strike one -from the beginning as being immeasurable by what she has written. There is -something exalted and tender, rich and yet reserved, about the life which -animates her poems, that interests us uncommonly. And when we come to read -of her, what was her life and what its aims, and, above all, when we see -how she is mourned by those who held her dear here, we recognize her for -one of those rare and beautiful hearts whom God loves too well to leave us -long, and conclude, in laying down these broken reflections of her spirit, -that her noblest poem was herself. - ------- - -{567} - - - The Indissolubility of Christian Marriage. - - - Number One. - -The frightful corruption in the legislation and practice respecting divorce -which has spread so widely during the past few years in our country has at -last aroused the attention of those who are interested in the preservation -of the public morals. They are beginning to write on the subject, and are -casting about for the means of protecting the endangered institution of -marriage. We feel it to be our duty to exercise what little influence we -may possess in the community at large, in the same direction. At present, -we shall restrict our remarks to one single point, which is the theological -question of the lawfulness of divorce _a vinculo matrimonii_, for the -cause of adultery, under the law of Christ. In order to make our intent and -meaning plain, we shall begin by stating the proposition we wish to -maintain. The marriage of Christians, validly ratified and consummated, is -absolutely indissoluble; and therefore there can be no legal and valid -divorce of the parties to such a marriage _a vinculo matrimonii_. The -best and ablest Protestant writers admit this with one exception, that is, -of the innocent party in the case of a marriage which has been violated by -adultery. We leave them, therefore, to defend the indissolubility of -marriage in all other cases, and confine ourselves to the one case in which -they permit divorce. - -The sole argument for the lawfulness of divorce in this instance is derived -from the following texts in St. Matthew's gospel. "Whosoever shall put away -his wife, _excepting for the cause of fornication_, causeth her to -commit adultery." (v. 32.) "Whosoever shall put away his wife, _except it -be for fornication_, and shall marry another, committeth adultery." -(xix. 9.) The Catholic interpretation of these passages is, that our Lord -permits a final separation _a mensâ et thoro_, for one cause, and one -only, which is the grievous crime mentioned in these texts. In accordance -with this interpretation, we explain these passages by the following -paraphrase: "Whoever, for any lesser cause than the crime of adultery, -separates himself finally from his wife, places both her and himself in the -danger of sinning, and is guilty of creating a proximate occasion of -adultery. If he separates himself from her on account of the grievous crime -above mentioned, he is not responsible for her future crimes, nor is he -guilty of placing himself without just cause in a condition in which the -observance of his marriage vows becomes more difficult. Nevertheless, if he -marries another, he commits adultery." - -In order to sustain the truth of this interpretation, it is necessary to -defend three propositions. First. That our Lord declared the bond of -marriage indissoluble. Second. That he condemned all _soi-disant_ -marriages of persons who were divorced, as adulterous. Third. That he -permitted a final divorce _a mensâ et thoro_ simply, for the cause of -adultery, and for no other. - -The first proposition is established by all the texts of the New Testament -which speak on the subject. We will first examine the text of St. Matthew, -which includes the passage that is in dispute: - - "And the Pharisees came to him, tempting him, and saying: Is it lawful - for a man to put away his wife for every cause? And he answered and said - to them: Have ye not read, that he who made man in the beginning, made - them male and female? -{568} - And he said: For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and - shall cleave unto his wife: and they two shall be in one flesh. Wherefore - they are no more two, but one flesh. _What therefore God hath joined - together, let not man put asunder_. They say to him: why then did - Moses command to give a bill of divorce, and to put away? He saith to - them: Moses, because of the hardness of your hearts, permitted you to put - away your wives: but from the beginning it was not so." - -It is evident from these words of our Lord that the reason for the marriage -of one man with only one woman, and for the perpetuity of this union, is -founded in the law of nature and the primitive revelation of God to the -founders of the human race. Also, that our Lord intended to restore -marriage to its primitive and perfect law, abrogating all temporary -dispensations in favor of polygamy and divorce. His commandment not to put -asunder what God hath joined is universal, and establishes the principle -that marriage is not dissoluble by human law. In the gospel of St. Mark we -are further informed that "in the house again his disciples asked him -concerning the same thing. And he said to them: Whosoever shall put away -his wife, and marry another, committeth adultery against her. And if the -wife shall put away her husband, and be married to another, she committeth -adultery." (x. 11.) St. Luke also relates the words of our Lord with the -same explicitness: "Every one that putteth away his wife, and marrieth -another, committeth adultery; and he that marrieth her that is put away -from her husband, committeth adultery." (xvi. 18.) The same doctrine is -established by St. Paul in the Epistle to the Romans: "For the woman that -hath a husband, whilst her husband liveth, is bound to the law: but if her -husband be dead, she is loosed from the law of her husband. Wherefore, -whilst her husband liveth, she shall be called an adulteress if she be with -another man: but if her husband be dead, she is free from the law of her -husband: so that she is not an adulteress if she be with another man." -(vii. 2, 3.) This passage lays down clearly and without exception the law -that the bond of marriage can only be dissolved by death. It is confirmed -by other texts in the first epistle to the Corinthians: "But to them that -are married, not I, but the Lord commandeth, that the wife depart not from -her husband: and if she depart, that she remain unmarried, or be reconciled -to her husband. And let not the husband put away his wife." "A woman is -bound by the law as long as her husband liveth: but if her husband die, she -is at liberty: let her marry to whom she will; only in the Lord." (vii. 10, -11, 39.) - -There can be no question between us and that class of strict Protestant -moralists who allow of divorce only in one case, and of re-marriage even in -that one case only by the innocent party, that the passages we have cited -lay down in general terms the indissolubility of Christian marriage. The -only point to be discussed, therefore, is, whether they are right or wrong -in so interpreting our Lord's words as to permit re-marriage in this one -particular case. If it cannot be shown that our Lord distinctly and -positively releases the innocent party in this case from the _vinculum -matrimonii_, our proposition stands firm that this _vinculum_ is in -all cases indissoluble except by death. - -In regard to this point we remark, first, that obscure passages ought to be -interpreted in conformity with those which are clear, and not the reverse. -The passages we have cited which proclaim the indissolubility of the -marriage-bond are clear. Those which are cited in proof of the exception -are obscure. It is not clear on the face of them how far the permission to -dismiss the guilty wife extends, and the conclusion that this permission -includes the permission to marry another woman is a mere inference. -{569} -The Catholic interpretation, that the permission extends no further than a -divorce _a mensâ et thoro_, harmonizes those passages with all others -in the New Testament which speak on the subject, and is, therefore, in -itself more probable. - -We remark, secondly, that the opposite interpretation is intrinsically -improbable, because it contravenes the evident scope and intention of our -Lord's words, which were to abrogate the special dispensations of the -Mosaic law, and introduce a stricter law in conformity with the original -institution of matrimony. Our opponents explain the law as giving the wife -an equal privilege of divorcing her husband with that conceded to the -husband. But, according to the law of Moses, the woman could not divorce -her husband for any cause whatever. If, now, our Lord gave her this -privilege, he relaxed the Mosaic law in an important respect. This is -highly improbable, seeing that it is only by inference that we can apply -the permission given the injured husband to dismiss his wife to the injured -woman in similar circumstances. We admit fully that, our Lord did intend to -give woman an equal right in the premises with that which he conceded to -man. But, if that right had been the one claimed by our opponents it is not -to be supposed that he would have failed to express it in clear and -distinct terms. We argue that, as his whole scope was to make the law of -marriage stricter, and as the law of Moses gave women no right of divorce, -our Lord did not concede to Christian women that right. Our opponents admit -that no more was conceded to men than to women, therefore no right of -divorce was conceded to men. - -We remark, thirdly, that the divorce permitted by our Lord cannot have been -a divorce _a vinculo_, from the concession of our opponents, who admit -that the guilty party is not released from it so as to be capable of -contracting a second marriage. - -They admit that the guilty party commits adultery by attempting another -marriage, and that the person marrying the one divorced commits adultery. -Adultery is not possible where there is no _vinculum matrimonii_ -subsisting. But there can be no vinculum except between two parties. It is -absurd that a woman should be bound to keep faith with the man who has -another lawful wife. Therefore, on the principles of our opponents, since -the guilty party is still in the bonds of the first marriage, the innocent -party is so also. - -Let us now examine the passage itself, which permits the dismissal of a -guilty consort, to see if it can fairly be interpreted in accordance with -the doctrine we have endeavored to establish. Our opponents argue that the -sense of the passage is as follows: "Whosoever shall put away his wife, and -marry another, commits adultery, unless the cause of his putting her away -was adultery on her part." Therefore, they say, if she was put away for the -crime above mentioned, he does not commit adultery, though he marries -another. The mere verbal construction admits of this interpretation, but -does not positively require it. It may fairly be understood to mean this: -"Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, commits -adultery, and whosoever shall marry another commits adultery." That is, he -who puts away his wife for any lesser cause, causes her to commit adultery, -and exposes himself to the danger of committing the same sin, on account of -the facility given by the civil law to both parties to contract second -marriages, and also because of the danger in which a woman is placed, when -cast off by her husband, of giving herself up to a bad life through want -and desperation, especially in a state of society which is morally corrupt. -And, much more, the one who actually does contract a second marriage during -the lifetime of the wife whom he has repudiated commits adultery, by -contracting an invalid marriage. Both acts are a violation of the marriage -vows, the desertion of the wife, and the formation of a second, unlawful -union with another; and, therefore, both are classed together, although it -is only the latter which is strictly and technically called adultery. - -{570} - -Our opponents may justly say that the text does not require this -interpretation, and that, if this really was the sense and meaning of our -Lord, the apostle has expressed it in an elliptical and obscure manner. -Very true. And if we had no other information than that which is furnished -by St. Matthew, the real doctrine of our Lord would be doubtful. This is -nothing strange or surprising. The sacred writers frequently speak in an -obscure, in artificial, and elliptical manner, which obliges us to -interpret their meaning from sources extraneous to the text. There is no -evidence that all the words used by our Lord himself to explain his -doctrine to the by-standers in public, or to his disciples in private, have -been recorded with verbal accuracy or completeness. St. Matthew gave a -brief summary of Christ's doctrine in his own language, which was -intelligible to his readers at the time, because they already knew the law -which had been promulgated in the Christian church. We hope to show -hereafter what this law was, from evidence furnished by the early Christian -writers and by the uniform canonical practice of the church. Meanwhile, we -think we have proved that the general scope of the language of the New -Testament sustains the doctrine of the indissolubility of Christian -marriage. - -Our second and third propositions have been established in the process of -maintaining the first, and flow from it obviously. It is evident that, -where the _vinculum matrimonii_ subsists between two persons, either -of them who attempts marriage with a third party violates the rights of the -lawful consort, and makes an invalid contract, whatever the civil law may -decide to the contrary. It is also evident that our Lord did permit a final -dissolution of the _connubium_ between married persons for one cause, -and one only. If this dissolution is not a divorce _a vinculo_, it -must be _a mensâ et thoro_. We leave the subject here for the present, -hoping to resume it again at a convenient opportunity; and we respectfully -recommend to our learned readers, who are desirous of investigating it -fully, the work of Perrone, _De Matrimonio Christiano_, 3 vols. Rome, -1858. - ------- - - Miscellany. - - -_The Magnetic Polarity of Rifles_. Mr. J. Spiller has lately made some -very interesting observations respecting the magnetic power assumed by -rifles. He finds that all the long Enfield barrels of the arms in the -possession of the volunteers of his company exhibit magnetic polarity as -the result of the violent and repeated concussions attending their -discharge in a direction parallel to the magnetic meridian. The Royal -Arsenal range runs nearly north and south, and the rifles, when in use, are -always pointed either due north or a few degrees toward the west--in fact, -nearly in the direction indicated by a compass-needle--so that the -repeated shocks brought about by the explosion of the powder may, Mr. -Spiller thinks, be considered equivalent to so many hard blows from a -hammer, which, as is well known, have a similar effect. Mr. Spiller goes on -to say that the magnetic character appears to be permanent, which would not -be the case if the gun-barrels were of the softest description of malleable -iron; and the region of the breech is, in every instance, possessed of -north polarity, since it strongly attracts the south pole of the compass -needle. -{571} -These effects should not be noticed at all, or only to an inferior degree, -in arms ordinarily fired in directions east and west; and it is supposed -that by reversing the usual practice, if it were possible, and firing -towards the south, the indications of polarity would be changed. - - -_Mont Cenis Railway_.--In a paper read before the Institute of Civil -Engineers, Capt. H. W. Tyler has fully described the results of experiments -with Mr. Fell's locomotive, which has been adopted for surmounting the -steep gradients and sharp curves of the Mont Cenis route. On Mr. Fell's -system an intermediate or centre rail is adopted, against which horizontal -wheels worked by the engine are pressed by springs, so as to yield any -requisite amount of adhesion. The engine constructed for the Mont Cenis -line is partly of steel; its weight fully loaded does not exceed 17 tons. -There are two 15-inch cylinders working both the four coupled horizontal -and the four coupled bearing wheels. The pressure on the additional -horizontal wheels can be varied by the engine-driver at pleasure; during -the experiments it amounted to from 2½ to 3 tons on each wheel, or 10 tons -altogether, but provision was made for increasing this pressure to 24 tons -if necessary. During the official trials, with a load of 24 tons exclusive -of the engine, on an average gradient of 1 in 13, with curves of 2 to 4 -chains radius, the speed of 6.65 miles to 7.46 miles per hour was attained -in ascending. With a load of 16 tons the speed was 10 miles. - - -_Fossil Man in the Rhine Valley_.--In the Lehm of the valley of the -Rhine, near Colmar, there is a marly deposit composed of a mixture of clay, -fine sand, and carbonate of lime. It forms part of the diluvial beds, and -in it M. Faudel has found a number of human and other remains. These -consisted of shells, bones of a huge stag, teeth of _Elephas -primigenuis_, and a human frontal and right parietal bone of a man of -middle size. M. Faudel concludes that man was contemporaneous with the -mammoth fossil stag and bison. - - -_Tobacco Smoking Injurious to the Eyes_.--In a recent number (February -15) of the Bulletin de Thérapeutique, M. Viardin describes two cases of -serious eye affection (amblyopia) resulting from the habit of smoking. M. -Viardin at once, on learning the habits of the patients, induced them to -smoke a much smaller quantity of tobacco than usual, and the result was a -complete restoration of vision in a few weeks from the date of their -application. - - -_Intermittent Fevers produced by Vegetable Organisms_.--Some time -since, we called attention to Dr. Salisbury's observations, tending to -support the theory expressed above. More recently these ideas have been, in -some measure, confirmed by Professor Hannon, of the University of Brussels. -In 1843, says M. Hannon, "I studied at the University of Liege; Professor -Charles Morsen had created in me such an enthusiasm in the study of the -fresh-water algae that the windows and mantel-piece of my chamber were -encumbered with plates filled with vaucheria, oscillatoria, and confervae. -My preceptor said to me: 'Take care at the period of their fructification, -for the spores of the algae give intermittent fever. I have had it every -time I have studied them too closely.' As I cultivated my algae in pure -water, and not in the water of the marsh where I had gathered them, I did -not attach any importance to his remark. I suffered for my carelessness a -month later, at the period of their fructification. I was taken with -shivering; my teeth chattered; I had the fever, which lasted six weeks." - - - -_Origin of Petroleum_.--Although nearly all geologists are agreed as -to the organic origin of petroleum, a great many are of opinion that the -rock-oil is the result of a natural distillation of coal. Professor -Hitchcock, however, no mean authority, comes to a different conclusion. -Admitting, with all who have carefully studied the matter, that petroleum -is of organic origin, he says that, in his opinion, it comes from plants, -and that it is not, as some have suggested, a fish-oil or a substance -altered to adipocere. It does not appear to be the result of a natural -distillation of coal, since its chemical composition is different from the -oil manufactured artificially from the cannels, containing neither -nitro-benzole nor aniline. Moreover, petroleum occupied fissures in the -silurian and devonian strata long before the trees of the coal period were -growing in their native forests. The nearly universal association of brine -with petroleum, and the fact of the slight solubility of hydrocarbons in -fresh, but insolubility in salt water, excite the inquiry whether the salt -water of primeval lagoons may not have prevented the escape of the -vegetable gases beneath, and condensed them into liquids. - -{572} - -_Structure of the Liver._--Dr. Lionel Beale's opinion as to the -structure of the vertebrate liver has been recently substantiated by the -researches of Herr Hering. This histologist states that the liver is -constructed like the other secreting glands. It is of the tubular type, -with canals, anastomosing in every direction, and having a tendency to form -a series of networks. Like other secretions, the bile travels along -glandular canals surrounded by glandular cells. It is easy (he says) to -observe this arrangement in the livers of vertebrates. Five or more cells -are disposed in simple layers around the circular and minute aperture of a -hepatic utricle seen in transverse section. This arrangement loses itself -insensibly in that variety of structure in which there are no utricles -properly so called. Occasionally may be seen four, three, or even only two -cells, uniting to form a biliary canal. The Russian anatomist denies the -existence of hepatic trabeculae of biliferous capillaries, and believes -that the biliary cells are persistent. He looks upon serpents' livers as -the only organs for minute inquiries upon the subject. - - - -_The Cometary Theory of Shooting-Stars--to whom does it belong?_--The -Abbé Moigno, who has broached this question, and who evidently feels -strongly on the point, makes the following observations in our -contemporary, the Chemical News, of March 15th: "In a quite recent note -inserted on March 3d, in the International Bulletin of the Imperial -Observatory, and on the 8th inst. in the Bulletin of the Scientific -Association of France, M. Le Verrier resumes on the cometary theory of -shooting-stars, and persists in attributing the honor of it to himself, -without condescending to mention the name of Schiaparelli, whose letters, -however, have been published in a journal of great authority, the -Meteorological Bulletin of the College of Rome, issued under the -superintendence of the Rev. P. Secchi, and were translated by the writer -before M. Le Verrier had published a single word of his researches. We are -really frightened by this system of organized cool-blooded appropriation, -and more so by these lines, the effect of which has been even more coolly -calculated: _'Sir John Herschel, who, along with his son, Alexander -Herschel, has paid great attention to shooting-stars, gives his complete -assent to_ the theory of the swarms of November.' Poor M. Schiaparelli! -Happily the Astronomische Nachrichten have collected the necessary papers, -and he will soon be in a position of having his revenge." - - -_New Form of Telegraphy._--An invention for the transmission of -despatches by an automatic electro-chemical method has been devised by MM. -Vavin and Fribourg. Its object is to utilize all the velocity of the -current on telegraphic lines. The Abbé Moigno, who has called attention to -it in England, gives the following description of it: It consists in the -distribution of the current through as many small wires, very short and -isolated, as there are signals to be transmitted, all the while only -employing one wire on the main line. Each of these small isolated wires -communicates, on the one hand, with a metallic plate, of a particular form, -fixed in gutta-percha; and, on the other, with a metallic division of a -disc, which is also formed of an insulating substance. A group of eleven of -those small laminae form a sort of cipher, which will give all the letters -of the alphabet by the suppression of certain portions of the fundamental -form. "Now," says the abbé, "suppose rows of these compound characters to -be placed on a sheet of prepared paper of a metallic nature, the words of -the telegram to be sent are written on them with isolating ink, leaving the -other parts of the small 'stereotyped' blocks untouched. The consequence is -that the current is intercepted at every point touched by the ink, and a -letter is, imprinted on the prepared paper at the other end of the line -where the telegram is to be received." - - -_A Cheap and Ingenious Ice Machine._--M. Tonelli, says the Abbé -Moigno, has just devised an ice-making machine which bids fair to become -very popular in this country, since it is convenient, cheap, and efficient. -The inventor calls it the "_glacier roulante_." It is a simple -metallic cylinder mounted on a foot. The salt of soda and the salt of -ammonia are added in two operations, the smaller cylinder, containing the -water to be frozen, is introduced into the interior, and the orifice is -close by an india-rubber disc, and then by a cover fastened with a catch; -the cylinder is then placed in a sac, or case of cloth, and it is made to -roll on the table with a slight oscillatory movement given by the hand. -{573} -After a lapse of ten minutes, the water in the interior of the cylinder -becomes a beautiful cylinder of ice. Nothing is more simple, more -economical, or more efficacious than the new "glacier roulante" which costs -10 fr., and gives us, moreover, what could not hitherto be obtained with an -apparatus containing freezing mixtures the means of freezing a decanter of -water or a bottle of champagne. The apparatus, in a case, packed for -travelling, with 20 kilogrammes of refrigerating materials and a measure, -costs, at present, only 1_l._--_Popular Science Review._ - - -_The "Cybele Hibernica."_--The invaluable work which Mr. Watson -achieved for England is being imitated on the other side of the Irish -Channel. Messrs. Moore & More have issued a volume upon the subject of the -distribution of Irish plants, and the facts it lays before the botanical -public are both numerous and interesting. Taking the number of species for -Britain proper at Mr. Watson's estimate of 1,425 species, the authors of -the "Cybele Hibernica" claim for Ireland about 1,000 species. Of the 532 -plants of the British type, Ireland has all, or very nearly so. The -Atlantic type is the only other one where she has decidedly more than half, -forty-one species out of seventy. Of the boreal species, (Highland, -Scottish, and intermediate types taken together,) although there is not a -single one of the twelve provinces in which there is not a hill of upward -of 2,000 feet in altitude, Ireland has only 106 species out of 238. Of the -458 English and local species she has just over one half; and, finally, out -of the 127 Germanic species only 18. - ------- - - Original. - - New Publications. - - - History Of England, - from the Fall of Wolsey to the death of Elizabeth. By James Anthony - Froude, M. A. Vols. VII., VIII., IX. and X. 12mo. New York: Charles - Scribner & Co. - -The four volumes of this work which are now before us carry the history of -the reign of Elizabeth from her accession to the death of Maitland and -Grange, and the consequent extinction of the Mary Stuart party in 1573. The -wars and troubles in Ireland, the invasion of Ulster, the insurrections and -death of Shan O'Neil, the quarrels of the Ormonds and the Desmonds; the -career of John Knox; the reign of Mary Queen of Scots; the English maritime -adventures of the sixteenth century; and the St. Bartholomew massacre, are -some of the exciting topics which Mr. Froude touches with his brilliant -pen, and upon which he lavishes his wonderful powers of narration and his -skill of dramatic arrangement. That our readers should be satisfied with -the pictures he presents to them is not to be expected. They must not look -in his pages for candor or judicial calmness. They will find Mary Stuart -painted here in darker and more horrible colors than in any other modern -work; John Knox lauded as "the one supremely great man that Scotland -possessed;" and the Huguenot massacre detailed with all the exaggerations -and harrowing circumstances which the partisan spirit of former historians -has spread about it. Mr. Froude is too anxious to make an effective story -ever to be an honest historian. A picturesque grouping of events and -persons has a temptation for his refined literary taste which often -overcomes the cardinal principle of historical composition, to tell the -truth and the whole truth. The extravagant admiration of the Tudor dynasty -with which he began to write has not cooled with the progress of his -labors. The fealty which he held to Henry and Edward he has now transferred -unshaken to Elizabeth; but there is this to be said for him, that -Elizabeth, with all her many faults, (and now and again even Mr. Froude -recognizes some of them,) possessed many really great qualities, which the -most uncompromising of her enemies must admire. - -{574} - -We have no purpose to go into the vexed question of the character of Mary -Queen of Scots; but it is only fair to mention that Mr. Froude fortifies -his unfavorable conclusions by copious references to authorities which have -only recently been brought to light, and that he has enjoyed in particular -a free use of the important manuscript archives of Simancas to which -historians were so long denied access. - - - The Student Of Blenheim Forest; or, - The Trials of a Convert. - By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. John Murphy & Co. Baltimore. - -This is a new and revised edition of an old work. It is a narrative of the -trials of a convert from Protestantism to the Catholic Church at the time -it was written. These trials, thank God, are daily becoming less as the -doctrine and practice of the church become better known, and prejudice and -misrepresentation disappear. Not every convert is called to pass through -such trials as the hero of this tale, although all should have the same -willingness to suffer for Christ, to give up friends and worldly hopes -rather than be untrue to one's conviction. - -The scene is laid in Virginia, and gives us a vivid picture of Southern -life. We think, in a book intended for general reading and the diffusion of -Catholic truth, it would be better to omit unfriendly allusion to what the -authoress calls the "cold customs of the North." - - - Studies In English; Or, - Glimpses Of The Inner Life Of Our Language. - By M. Schele de Vere, LL.D., Professor of Modern Languages in the - University of Virginia. London: Trübner & Co. New-York: Charles Scribner - & Co. Printed at the Riverside Press, Cambridge. - -This is one of the few American books we are called upon to notice which -make a real and important addition to any solid and useful branch of -learning outside of the circle of the physical sciences. It is a thoroughly -scholarly production, full of the most instructive information regarding -the history, formation, and component elements of the English language. -This information is communicated not in a dry, technical, and -college-text-book manner, but in a graceful, charming, and entertaining -style, rich in illustrations and apt references to classic authors, which -makes the reading of the book a true pleasure. Happily, the author does not -ride the Anglo-Saxon or any other hobby, but does full justice to the -Latin, Celtic, and other elements of the language. It is especially -interesting to the Catholic reader to notice the abundant evidence the -author furnishes of the ineffaceable impress the Catholic religion has -stamped upon the English language. It is impossible to overestimate the -importance of a thorough study and right understanding of _words_ as -the signs of thoughts, the vehicles of the transmission of truths, the -current coin of the intellectual kingdom. It is this which is one great -secret of the power possessed by such great masters of the divine faculty -of speech as Dr. Brownson and Dr. Newman. Sophists, like Carlyle, corrupt -thought by corrupting language, and confused, inconsistent reasoners, like -Dr. Pusey, obscure truth by obscuring language. The volume before us will -prove an invaluable aid to the scholar who wishes to study the pure, good, -sound sense, and correct use of our mother tongue. We think the author -betrays some English prejudice, in ascribing a peculiar faculty of -understanding the genuine doctrine of the Scriptures to the English people. -This is a spice of the Anglican "True Church" theory, which all the rest of -mankind laugh at. We think, also, that he somewhat exaggerates the -excellence of the English language, and its influence on the world. We were -reminded while reading his eulogium on the English language of the verse of -Kenelm Digby: - - "Greek's a harp we like to hear, - Latin hath a trumpet clear, - Italian rings like marriage-bells, - While Spain her solemn organ swells, - French with many a frolic mien - Tunes her jocund violin, - The German beats her heavy drum - As Russian's clashing symbols come; - But Britain's sons may well rejoice, - _For English is the human voice._" - -The English people are proud, and the American people are vain of a fancied -superiority in all things, except the fine arts, over the rest of mankind. -Neither are aware how far behind some other nations they are in many of the -highest branches of science and literature. A little boasting will, -therefore, add to the popularity of an author in the English language, as -indeed it will in any other. -{575} -We will not quarrel over this point with Professor De Vere, for nothing is -more difficult than a precisely accurate judgment concerning the relative -merits of the principal modern languages. We have a mother tongue with -which we have every reason to be satisfied, and therefore let us try to use -it well, and preserve it from corruption. On this head, we have great -reason to fear for the future, and therefore we give a hearty welcome to -the learned professor's suggestion that an English Academy should be -constituted, which shall decide all questions respecting the spelling, -pronunciation, and right use of English words. - -It is enough to say that this volume is from the Riverside press to -guarantee its typographical excellence, and we hope this circumstance will -counterbalance, in those minds disposed to be rigid in excluding everything -which has not the Boston stamp, the fact that the author hails from -Virginia. - - - Antoine De Bonneval. - A Tale of Paris in the days of St. Vincent de Paul. By Rev. W. H. - Anderdon. Kelly & Piet, Baltimore. - -In this narrative are portrayed some of the most exciting scenes in French -history. It tells of that period in which Richelieu, Mazarin, St. Vincent -de Paul, and Monsieur Olier figured so largely, and whose history is so -suggestive to the thoughtful reader. The style is vigorous and the volume -worthy of a place in a Sunday-school or parochial library. - - - Etudes Philologiques Sur Quelques - Langues Sauvages De L'amerique. - Par N. O., Ancien Missionnaire. - Montreal: Dawson Brothers, 55 Grande Rue St. Jacques. 1866. - -The Indian dialects of North America deserve a more attentive study than -they have yet received. If the inquirer did no more than confine his -researches to the languages spoken by the Algic tribes, (to use an epithet -happily devised by Schoolcraft to designate the native races found east of -the Alleghanies,) the compensation would be fairly worth the work. Resolved -into two groups, the Algonquin and Iroquois, these varieties of speech -present contrasts so striking and analogies so rare as to forbid the theory -of a derivation from a common stock. The words of these two families of -tongues are not only wholly dissimilar, but are, for the most part, -mutually unpronounceable. The Algonquin cannot articulate an _f_ or an -_r_; while the Iroquois, to whom these sounds are familiar, can make -nothing of a _b_ or an _m_. The two languages, with the doubtful -exception of a corrupt dialect, and then in words evidently borrowed from -the conqueror, agree in little else than an odd aversion to the letter -_l_, and, we may add perhaps, in a plentiful lack of adjectives and a -most oppressive multiplicity of _verbs_. - -It is in this last-mentioned field (the analysis of Algic verbs) that our -author N. O. has exerted his main strength, and has given the best proofs -of his linguistic skill. The Algonquin verb to love, _sakih_, -expatiates, in the course of twenty-two pages of this treatise, into two -active and three passive voices, served by eight moods, three past tenses, -two futures, and two first persons plural, with participles and gerunds to -match; and all subject to fifteen accidents, corresponding to the various -modifications of Semitic verbs. The Iroquois verb, though in quite another -way, rejoices also in conjugations, moods, tenses, and numbers not unworthy -of comparison with the Greek, subject to secondary forms more or less -resembling the Semitic. The Algonquin participle may assume a negative -shape, and it is this nullifying syllable _si_ that mainly -distinguishes the two words which in that language signify Catholic and -Protestant. The Catholics are _tcipaiatikonamatizodjik_, literally, -"they who make upon their own persons the sign of the wood of the dead body -of Christ." "Protestants" (having as usual failed to make themselves -understood except as deniers of Catholicity, and who are _nothing if not -negative_) are _tcipaiatikonamatizosigok_, "those who do _not_ -make upon themselves the sign of the wood of the dead body of Christ." It -is to be hoped that the theologians of the two professions have shorter and -more convenient terms when they resort, as they have been known to do, to -the refreshment of reciprocal objurgation. - -We regret that we cannot go into details. The book is pleasantly written, -lucidly arranged, and full of satisfactory evidence of a keen perception of -philological distinctions. We cordially recommend it to those who are -ambitious to gain an insight into the philosophy of the languages, before -they also (we mean the languages) take their inevitable turn to be numbered -with the dead. - - -{576} - - The Literary Character Of The Bible. - A Lecture delivered before the Wilmington Institute. - By H. Beecher Swoope, Attorney-at-law. - -The author delivered and now publishes this as "A Lawyer's tribute to the -Bible," and it is surely a very graceful one. It shows a just appreciation -of the literary excellences of the sacred volume, of the grandeur of its -history, the depth of its philosophy, the sublimity of its poetry. We -dislike, however, this consideration of the inspired volume merely as a -literary production, without keeping in view its sacred character as the -word of God. Containing as it does, the revelation of God's infinite -perfections, it must necessarily contain all that is most beautiful, -profound, sublime. We agree with the author that, "in order to bring out -all the hidden beauties of the original Scriptures, we need a new -translation brought fully up to the present standard of our language," and -that "our present version of the Bible is sublime, grand, and beautiful, -only because many of the ideas and conceptions are so essentially great and -lofty that they necessarily appear magnificent in the most artless dress." - - - Catholic Anecdotes; Or, The Catechism In Examples. - Illustrating the Sacraments. - By the Brothers of the Christian Schools. - Translated from the French by Mrs. J. Sadlier. - New-York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. - -This is the third and last part of this series of anecdotes. They are -intended to assist those engaged in teaching the Christian doctrine, by -giving them examples illustrative of the subject they may be teaching. They -are arranged in the same order as the subject matter of the Catechism, and -are well adapted for this purpose. - - - Lives And Times Of The Roman Pontiffs. - 2 vols. Sadliers. - -This great work, in two large quarto volumes of nearly 1000 pages each, is -a translation from the French of the Chevalier Artaud de Montor. The author -is both a well-informed historian and an elegant writer. Although there are -some faults in the translation, and some typographical errors, the value of -the work is nevertheless very great, and it is a noble addition to our -Catholic literature. There is much beauty in the mechanical execution, and -the illustrations are numerous. Many of the portraits and other -illustrations are excellent, though a few are quite indifferent. The -preface is carelessly written, and has not the excellence which ought to -characterize the introduction to such a great work. The hand of a finished -scholar would have done great good in retouching the whole work, which is, -notwithstanding its minor defects, on the whole a superb one and a credit -to its publishers. - - - Christianity And Its Conflicts, Ancient And Modern. - By E. E. Marcy, A.M. - New-York: Appleton & Co. - For sale by the Catholic Publication Society, 126 Nassau street. - -This work comes upon our table just as we are going to press. A rapid -glance over its contents shows us that it presents a comprehensive view of -the church and its work, contrasted with the vain and fruitless attempts -made by her enemies to set up a rival system of Christianity. It is a work -which will be widely read and excite no little interest, and deserves at -our hands a more extended critical notice, which we propose to give it in -our next issue. It is not an ordinary book of controversy, and we advise -our readers in the mean time to get a copy and read -it. - - -H. McGrath, Philadelphia, announces a new and illustrated volume of Poems, -by E. A. S. - - - Books Received. - -From P. O'Shea, New-York. -The Beauties of Faith; or, Power of Mary's Patronage. -Leaves from the Ave Maria. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 272 and 145. Price, $2. - - -From Charles Scribner & Co., New-York. - Liber Librorum; its Structure, Limitations, and Purpose. - A friendly communication to a reluctant sceptic. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 232. Price, $1.50. - - Studies in English; or, Glimpses of the Inner Life of our Language. - By M. Schele de Vere, LL.D. 1 vol. 12mo. Price, $2.50. - - -From D. & J. Sadlier & Co., New-York. -Peter of Castle and the Fetches. -By the Brothers Banim. -1 vol. 12mo, pp. 348. Price, $1.50. - - -From M. Doolady, New-York. -The History of Pendennis, etc. -By W. M. Thackeray. -1 vol. 16mo, pp. 479. Diamond Ed. - - -From the author. -Dion and the Sibyls; a Romance of the First Century. -By Miles Gerald O'Reilly, H. M. Colonial Secretary in Bermuda. 2 vols. 8vo -Richard Bentlev, London. - - -From Leypoldt & Holt, New-York. - Fathers and Sons. A Novel. - By Ivan Sergheievitch Turgeneff. - Translated from the Russian by Eugene Schuyler, Ph.D. - 1 vol. 12mo. Price, $1.50. - - The Man with the Broken Ear; - from the French of Edmond About. - By Henry Holt. 1 vol. l2mo. Price, $1.50. - - -From P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia. - Stories of the Commandments; - The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy; - Caroline, or Self-Conquest. - Being vols. 16, 17, and 18 of the Young Catholic's Library. Price, 50 - cents each. - ------- - -{577} - - The Catholic World. - - Vol. V., No. 29.--August, 1867. - - - Original. - - Guettée's Papacy Schismatic. [Footnote 176] - - [Footnote 176: See The Catholic World, July, 1867.] - - -M. Guettée, it will be remembered, undertakes to establish two propositions ---first, "The bishop of Rome did not for eight centuries possess the -authority of divine right which he has since sought to exercise; and -second, The pretension of the bishop of Rome to the sovereignty of divine -right over the whole church was the real cause of the division," or schism -between the East and the West. To the first proposition, we have replied, -the bishop of Rome is in possession, and it is for the author to prove that -he is not rightfully in possession. This he can do only by proving either, -first, that no such title by divine right was ever issued; or, second, that -it vests in an adverse claimant. He sets up no adverse claimant, but -attempts to make it appear that no such title as is claimed was ever -issued. This he attempts to do by showing that the proofs of title usually -relied on by Catholic writers are negatived by the Holy Scriptures and the -testimony of the fathers and councils of the first eight centuries. We have -seen that he has signally failed so far as the Holy Scriptures and the -fathers of the first three centuries are concerned; nay, that instead of -proving his proposition, he has by his own witnesses refuted it, and proved -that the title did issue, and did vest in St. Peter, and consequently now -vests in the bishop of Rome as Peter's successor. - -This alone is enough for us, and renders any further discussion of the -first proposition unnecessary. After the testimony of St. Cyprian, who is -his own witness, the author really has nothing more to say. He has lost his -case. But, ignorant of this, he proceeds in the fourth division of his work -to interrogate the fathers and councils of the fourth and fifth centuries, -but even less successfully, as we now proceed to show. We only beg the -reader to bear in mind that we are not adducing our proofs of the papacy by -divine right, but are simply examining the proofs the author adduces -against it. We do not put forth the strength of our cause, which is not -necessary in the present argument; we are only showing the weakness of the -case the author makes against us. - -The author attempts to devise an argument against the papal authority from -the sixth canon of the council of Nicaea. This canon, as he cites it, -reads: "Let the ancient custom be preserved that exists in Egypt, Lybia, -and Pentapolis, that the bishop of Alexandria have authority in all these -countries, since that has also passed into a custom for the bishop of Rome. -{578} -Let the churches at Antioch and in the other provinces preserve also their -privileges." It must not be supposed that the author cites the canon with -any degree of exactness, or faithfully renders it; but let that pass. From -this canon two consequences, he contends, necessarily follow: first, That -"the council declared that the authority of the bishop of Rome extended -over a limited district, like that of the bishop of Alexandria; and second, -That this authority was only based on usage," (p. 95.) - -But the authority of the bishop of Rome was not in question before the -council, for that nobody disputed. "The object of the canon," the author -himself says, pp. 93, 94, "was to defend the authority of the bishop of -Alexandria against the partisans of Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, who -refused to recognize it in episcopal ordinations; .... therefore was merely -to confirm the ancient customs respecting these ordinations, and, in -general, the privileges consecrated by ancient usages. Now, according to an -ancient custom Rome enjoyed certain prerogatives that no one contested. The -council makes use of this fact in order to confirm the similar prerogatives -of Alexandria, Antioch, and other churches." - -The question before the council, and which it met by this canon, evidently -was not the primacy of the see of Rome--although it would seem from the -form in which the papal legate, Paschasinus, quoted it, without -contradiction, in the council of Chalcedon, that the council of Nicaea took -care to reserve that primacy--but certain customary rights, privileges, and -dignities which the bishops of Alexandria, Antioch, and some other churches -held in common with the bishop of Rome. As the ancient custom was preserved -in the Roman Church, the council says, so let it be in Alexandria, Antioch, -and other churches. The council refers to the custom in Rome as a reason -for confirming the similar custom which had obtained elsewhere, and which -had been violated by Meletius of Lycopolis in Egypt, and by his partisans. - -To understand this, we must recollect that prior to the fall of the great -patriarchates of Alexandria and the East, the administration of -ecclesiastical affairs was less centralized than at present. Now nearly -all, if not all bishops depend immediately on the Holy See, but in the -early ages they depended on it only mediately. The bishops of a province or -of a patriarchate depended immediately on their exarch, metropolitan, or -patriarch, and only mediately through him on the bishop of Rome. The -appointment or election of the patriarch, and of the exarch or metropolitan -of a church independent of any patriarch, as were the churches of Asia -Minor, Pontus, and Thrace, needed the papal confirmation, but not their -suffragans, or the bishops subject to their immediate jurisdiction. The -patriarch or metropolitan confirmed their election, ordained or deposed -them by his own authority, subject of course to appeal to Rome. Lycopolis, -by ancient custom or canons of the fathers, depended on the bishop of -Alexandria, who was its bishop's immediate superior. For some reason, -Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, had been deposed by the bishop of -Alexandria, and deprived of his functions; but he refused to submit, -ordained bishops by his own authority, contrary to the ancient custom, and -created a schism, was to meet this case, and others like it, that the -council decreed the sixth canon. - -The authority confirmed by that canon was the authority of patriarchs, as -they were subsequently called, and of metropolitans by usage independent of -any patriarchal jurisdiction, and therefore the authority of the bishop of -Rome which it recognized as derived from usage, could have been only his -authority as metropolitan of the Suburbicarian churches, called the Roman -territory, or as patriarch of the West. -{579} -That this authority was limited, and dependent on ancient usage or custom, -nobody disputes; but this is distinct from his authority as supreme pontiff -or governor of the whole church. There are instances enough on record of -metropolitan churches, like Aquileia, and those of Illyrium and Bulgaria, -disputing their immediate dependence on the bishop of Rome, that never -dreamed of calling in question his authority as supreme pontiff, or -governor of the whole church. The schismatic Armenians do not deny and -never have denied the supreme authority in the whole church of the bishop -of Rome; they only assert that the pope gave to their apostle, Gregory the -Illuminator, and to his successors, the independent government of the -church in Armenia. St. Cyprian depended on the bishop of Rome, and -acknowledged the papal authority, but it is questionable if he depended on -him as patriarch of the West. We suspect Carthage was independent of -patriarchal jurisdiction, and that St. Cyprian had no superior but the -pope. However this may have been, the fact that churches did not depend -immediately on the bishop of Rome did not in any sense deny or impair his -universal authority as supreme pontiff. So the argument against the papacy -from the sixth canon of the council of Nicaea, like the author's other -arguments, proves nothing to his purpose. - -M. Guettée, in his blind hatred of Rome, after having alleged the authority -of the council of Nicaea in his own favor, undertakes to prove that it was -no council of the church at all, but merely a council of the empire. He -labors hard to prove that it was convoked by the Emperor Constantine by -virtue of his imperial authority alone, that the emperor presided in its -sessions, and confirmed and promulgated its acts. Does he not see that if -it was so, the council had no ecclesiastical authority, and therefore that -its acts have no bearing on the question before us? If anything is certain, -it is that the church, as a polity, is independent of the state, and that -civil rulers or magistrates, as such, have no authority in her government. -Civil rulers have often usurped authority over the church and oppressed -her: they did so at Constantinople, as Gregory III. complains; they -attempted to do so all through the middle ages in the West, and they do so -now to a most fearful extent in the Russian empire, as in all European -Protestant states; but the authority they exercise is usurped, and is -repugnant to the very nature and constitution of the church. Our Lord said, -"My kingdom is not of this world." The Non-united Greeks as well as -Catholics hold that there is and can be no oecumenical council without the -bishop of Rome to convoke it, preside over it, and to confirm and -promulgate its acts; and hence they confess their inability to hold an -oecumenical council, and therefore really acknowledge that they are not the -Catholic Church in its integrity though they claim to hold the orthodox -faith. They admit the Roman Church is the primatial see, and that the -presidency of a general council belongs to the bishop of Rome by the right -and dignity of his see. If he did not preside in the council of Nicaea in -person or by his legates or representatives, and approve formally or -virtually its acts, it could not, by their own doctrine, have the authority -of a general council. The confirmation and promulgation of its canons by -the emperor might make them laws or edicts of the empire, but could not -make them canons of the church. - -It would be no difficult matter to prove that the author is as much out in -his facts as in his inferences. The universal church has recognized the -council of Nicaea as a legitimate council, and there are ample authorities -to prove that its convocation and indiction were at the request or with the -assent of the Roman pontiff, that he presided over it by his legates, -Osius, bishop of Cordova, and Vitus and Vincentius, two Roman presbyters; -that he virtually, if not formally, confirmed and published its acts; and -that whatever the emperor did was merely executory; but the question is -foreign to our present argument, and we have no space to indulge in -extraneous or irrelevant discussions. -{580} -If we were endeavoring to prove the papacy, we should adduce the proofs; -but our line of argument requires us only to refute the reasons the author -alleges for asserting that the papacy is schismatic. If the council of -Nicaea was simply an imperial council, we have nothing to do with it; if it -was a true general council of the church, it makes nothing for the author, -for the sixth canon, the only one relied on, has, as the author cites it, -no reference to the jurisdiction of the Holy Apostolic See of Rome. - -M. Guettée pretends that the third canon of the second general council, the -first of Constantinople, contains a denial of the papal authority by divine -right. The canon, as he cites it, which is only the concluding part of it, -says: "Let the bishop of Constantinople have the primacy of honor -(_priores honoris partes_) after the bishop of Rome, _because -Constantinople is the new Rome._" Hence he concludes that as the primacy -conferred on the bishop of Constantinople was only a primacy of honor, the -bishop of Rome had only a primacy of honor; and as the primacy of honor was -conferred on the bishop of Constantinople because that city was the new -Rome, so the primacy of the bishop of Rome was conferred because he was the -bishop of old Rome, or the capital of the empire. The reasoning, which is -Guettéean, if we may coin a word, is admirable, and we shall soon see what -St. Leo the Great thinks of it. But the canon does not affect the -authority, rank, or dignity of the bishop of Rome; it simply gives the -bishop of Constantinople the precedence of the bishop of Alexandria, who -had hitherto held the first rank after the bishop of Rome. It conferred on -him no power, and took nothing from the authority of any one else. It was -simply a matter of politeness. Besides, the canon remained without effect. - -From the second general council the author rushes, pp. 96, 97, to the -fourth, the council of Chalcedon, held under the pontificate of St. Leo -Magnus, in 451, and lights upon the twenty-eighth canon of that council, -which, as he gives it, reads: "In all things following the decrees of the -holy fathers, and recognizing the canon just read (the third of the second -council) by the one hundred and fifty bishops well beloved of God, we -decree and establish the same thing touching the most holy church of -Constantinople, the new Rome. Most justly did the fathers grant privileges -to the see of ancient Rome, because she was the reigning (capital) city. -Moved by the same motive the one hundred and fifty bishops well beloved of -God grant equal privileges to the most holy see of the new Rome, thinking, -very properly, that the city that has the honor to be the seat of the -empire and the senate should enjoy in ecclesiastical things the same -privileges as Rome, the ancient queen city, since the former, although of -later origin, has been raised and honored as much as the former. In -consequence of this decree the council subjected the dioceses of Pontus, -Asia, (Asia Minor,) and Thrace to the jurisdiction of Constantinople." - -Of course the author cites the canon with his usual inexactness, and makes -it appear even more illogical and absurd than it really was. The alleged -canon professes to decree and establish the same thing decreed and -established by the one hundred and fifty bishops who composed the second -council, in their third canon, which as we have seen, was simply that the -bishop of Constantinople should have the primacy of honor after the bishop -of Rome, that is the second rank in the church. The canon, therefore, does -not deprive the Roman pontiff of his rank, dignity, and authority as -primate of the whole church, and therefore did not, as it could not, raise -the see of Constantinople to an equal rank and dignity with the see of -Rome. This was never pretended, and is not pretended by the author himself. -{581} -The council never could, without stultifying itself, have intended anything -of the sort, for it gave to the bishop of Rome the title of "universal -bishop," and it says expressly: "We consider the primacy of all and the -chief honor, according to the canons, should be preserved to the most -beloved of God, the archbishop of Rome." [Footnote 177] The Non-united -Greeks and the author himself concede that the Church of Rome was and is -the first church in rank and dignity. - - [Footnote 177: Act, xvi. col. 637. _Apud_ Kenrick.] - -Whatever value, then, is to be attached to this twenty-eighth canon it did -not and was not designed to affect in any respect the rank, dignity, or -authority of the Roman pontiff. What was attempted by it was to erect the -non-apostolic see of Constantinople or Byzantium into a patriarchal see, -with jurisdiction over the metropolitans of Pontus, Asia Minor, Thrace, and -such as should be ordained in barbarous countries, that is, in countries -lying beyond the limits of the empire, and to give its bishop the first -rank after the patriarch of the West. It sought to reduce the bishop of -Alexandria from the second to the third, and the bishop of Antioch from the -third to the fourth rank, but it did not touch the power or authority of -either. It violated the rights and privileges of the metropolitans of -Pontus, Asia Minor, and Thrace, by subjecting them to a patriarchal -jurisdiction from which, by ancient usage, confirmed by the sixth canon of -the council of Nicaea, they were exempt. - -The author relies on this canon because it asserts that the privileges of -the see of Rome were granted by the fathers, and granted _because_ -Rome was the capital city of the empire. This sustains his position, that -the importance the fathers attached to the see of Rome was not because it -was the see of Peter, but because it was the see of the capital--a position -we showed, in our previous article, to be untenable and also that the -authority exercised by the Roman pontiff over the whole church, which he -cannot deny, was not by divine right, but by ecclesiastical right. But even -if this last were so, since there is confessedly no act of the universal -church revoking the grant, the power would be legitimate, and the author -and his friends the Non-united Greeks would be bound by a law of the church -to obey the Roman pontiff, and clearly schismatics in refusing to obey him. -But we have seen from St. Cyprian, the author's own witness, that the -primacy was conferred by our Lord himself on the Roman pontiff as the -successor of Peter to constitute him the visible centre and source of unity -and authority. Besides, a canon, beyond what it decrees or defines, is not -authoritative, and it is lawful to dispute the logic of a general council, -and even the historical facts it alleges, at least so far as they can be -separated from the definition or decree itself. The purpose of the canon of -Chalcedon was not to define or decree that the privileges of the see of -Rome were granted by the fathers, and because it was the see of the capital -of the empire, but to elevate the see of Constantinople to the rank and -authority of a patriarchal see, immediately after the see of Rome, and -simply assigns this as a reason for doing so; and a very poor reason it -was, too, at least in the judgment of St. Leo the Great, as we shall soon -see. - -But there is something more to be said in regard to this twenty-eighth -canon of the council of Chalcedon. The council is generally accepted as the -fourth general council, but only by virtue of the papal confirmation, and -only so far as the pope confirmed its acts. In many respects the council -was a scandalous assembly, almost wholly controlled by the emperor and the -Byzantine lawyers or magistrates, who have no authority in the church of -God. The part taken by the emperor and civil magistrates wholly vitiated it -as a council of the church, and all the authority its acts had or could -have for the church was derived from their confirmation by St. Leo the -Great. But bad as the council was, the twenty-eighth canon never received -its sanction. -{582} -It was introduced by the civil magistrates, and when only one hundred and -fifty bishops, all orientals, out of the six hundred composing the council, -were present, and no more subscribed it. It was resisted by the legates of -the Roman pontiff and protested against; the patriarchal churches of -Alexandria and Antioch were unrepresented. Dioscurus, bishop of the former, -was excluded for his crimes, and Macarius of Antioch had just been deposed -by the emperor and council for heresy and expelled; a large number of -prelates had withdrawn, and only the rump of the council remained. It is -idle to pretend that the canon in question was the act even of the council, -far less of the universal church. - -Now, either Leo the Roman pontiff had authority to confirm the acts of the -council of Chalcedon, and by his authority as supreme pastor of the church -to heal their defects and make them binding on the universal church, or he -had not. If he had, the controversy is ended, for that is precisely what -Mr. Guettée denies; if he had not, as Mr. Guettée contends, then the acts -of Chalcedon have in themselves no authority for the church, since through -the tyranny of the emperor Marcian and the civil magistrates it was not a -free council, and, though legally convoked and presided over, was not -capable of binding the church. The author may take which horn of the -dilemma he chooses, for the pope refused to confirm the twenty-eighth -canon, and declared it null and void from the beginning. - -The fathers of the council, or a portion of them, in the name of the -council, addressed a letter to the Roman pontiff in which they recognize -him as the constituted interpreter of the words and faith of Peter for all, -explain what they have done, the motives from which they have acted, and -pray him "to honor their judgment by his _decrees_"--that is, confirm -their acts. St. Leo confirmed those of their acts that pertained to the -definition of faith, but refused to confirm the twenty-eighth canon, which -he annulled and declared void, as enacted without authority, and against -the canons. - -Mr. Guettée says, pp. 97, 98, that the council did not ask the Roman -pontiff to confirm the canon in question, "but by his own decrees to honor -the judgment which had been rendered. If the confirmation of the bishop of -Rome had been necessary, would the decree of Chalcedon have been a -judgment, a promulgated decision, before that confirmation?" An -authoritatively "promulgated decision" certainly not; but the author -forgets that the canon had not been promulgated, and never became "a -promulgated decision." As to its being a judgment, a final or complete -judgment it was not, and the council, by calling it _nostrum -judicium_, do not pretend that it was. They present it to the Roman -pontiff only as an inchoate judgment, to be completed by his confirmation. -They tell the pope that his legates have protested against it, probably -because they wished to preserve to him its initiation, and that in adopting -it they "had deferred to the emperor, to the senate, and the whole imperial -city, thinking only to finish the work which his holiness, who always -delights to diffuse his favors, had begun." The plain English of which is, -We have enacted the canon out of deference to the civil authority and the -wishes of the imperial city, subject to your approval. "Rogamus igitur, -honora et tuis sententiis nostrum judicium. We pray you, therefore, to -honor our judgment by your decrees." [Footnote 178] If this does not mean -asking the pope to confirm their act or judgment, we know not what would so -mean. It is certain that St. Leo himself, who is one of the author's -anti-papal authorities, so understood it, as is evident from his replies to -the emperor, the empress, and Anatolius, Bishop of Constantinople, the -assertion of M. Guettée to the contrary notwithstanding. - - [Footnote 178: Opp. S. Leo, tom. i. col. 960-962. Migne's edition.] - -{583} - -The Emperor Marcian wrote expressly to St. Leo, begging him to confirm by -his apostolic authority the acts of the council, and especially the -twenty-eighth canon, because without his confirmation they would have no -authority. The Empress Pulcheria wrote him to the same effect, and finally -Anatolius did the same. To the emperor the Roman pontiff replied, and set -forth the reasons why he could not confirm the canon in question. He makes -short work with M. Guettée's doctrine, broached in the second council, and -extended in the twenty eighth canon of Chalcedon, that the rank and -authority of the see derive from the rank, authority, or importance of the -city in which it is established. He denies that the fact that -Constantinople was the second capital of the empire, or the new Rome, was -any reason for elevating its bishop to the patriarchal rank and authority. -"Let, as we desire, the city of Constantinople have its glory, and, -protected by the right hand of God, may it long enjoy the reign of your -clemency; but different is the reason of secular things from the reason of -divine things, and no edifice will be stable unless it is built on that -rock (St. Matthew xvi. 18) which the Lord has laid for a foundation. Who -covets what is not his due shall lose what is his own. Let it suffice this -man, (Anatolius,) that by the aid of your piety and my assent and favor, he -has obtained the episcopate of so great a city. Let him not disdain the -imperial city because he cannot make it an apostolic see; and let him by no -means hope to enlarge his power at the expense of others." - -It is very clear from this that St. Leo did by no means concede that the -bishop of Constantinople was entitled to be clothed with patriarchal power -and take precedence of the patriarch of Alexandria, because he had his see -in what had become the second capital of the empire. "Alia ratio est rerum -secularium, alia divinarum; nec prater illam petram quam Dominus in -fundamento posuit, stabilis erit nulla constructio;" that is, only what is -built on Peter, the rock, will stand, and in vain do you build on the -greatness, splendor, and dignity of earthly cities. [Footnote 179] If M. -Guettée had remembered this, he would never have turned from the chair of -Peter, or allowed himself to be seduced by the nationalism of the Greek -sophists, and the misguided ambition of the bishop of Constantinople. Alas! -he left his father's house, and, famished in the far country to which he -has wandered, he is forced to feed on husks with the swine he tends. What -can that man think of the church of God who holds that the dignity and -authority of its prelates have only a secular origin? - - [Footnote 179: Ibidem, ad Marcianum Augustum, epist. civ.] - -St. Leo unequivocally refuses, in his reply to the solicitations of the -emperor, to confirm the twenty-eighth canon. "And why," asks the author, p. -98, "did he refuse his assent? Because the decree of Chalcedon took from -the bishop of Alexandria the second rank, and the third from the bishop of -Antioch, and was in so far forth contrary to the sixth canon of Nicaea, and -because the same decree prejudiced the rights of several primates or -metropolitans," that is, of Pontus, Asia Minor, and Thrace. This we think -was reason enough, and proves that the Roman pontiff was not only the chief -custodian of the faith, but also of the canons. "The bishop of -Constantinople," says St. Leo, as cited by the author, "in spite of the -glory of his church, cannot make it apostolic; he has no right to -aggrandize it at the expense of churches whose privileges, established by -the canons of the holy fathers, and settled by the decrees of the venerable -council of Nicaea, cannot be unsettled by perversity nor violated by -innovation." St. Leo in the whole controversy appears as the defender of -the canons against innovation, and of the catholicity of the church against -Greek nationalism. - -{584} - -The author continues, same page, "In his letter to the Empress Pulcheria, -St. Leo declares that he has 'annulled the decree of Chalcedon by the -authority of St. Peter.' These words seem at first sight to mean that he -claimed for himself a sovereign [supreme] authority in the church in the -name of St. Peter." Undoubtedly, not only at first sight, but at every -sight. The Pope uses the strongest terms to be found in the Latin language, -and terms which can be used only by one having the supreme authority, -_irritus_ and _cassare_. He refuses to ratify it, declares it -null, and says, "per auctoritatem Beati Petri apostoli," he makes it void. -He could make no greater assumption of authority. "But," adds the author, -upon a more careful and unbiased examination of his letter and other -writings, "we are convinced that St. Leo only spoke as the bishop of an -apostolic see, and that in this character he claimed the right, in the name -of the apostles who founded his church, and of the Western countries which -he represented, to resist any attempt of the Eastern Church to decide alone -matters of general interest to the whole church," pp. 98, 99. If he is -convinced, we are not. If such was St. Leo's meaning, why did he not say -so? Why did he annul when he only meant that the canon was null, because -decreed by Orientals alone; or why did he not assign that reason for -annulling it, and not the reason that it was repugnant to the canons of the -holy fathers and the decrees of the Council of Nicaea? - -"The proof that he regarded matters in this light," (p. 99,) "is that he -does not claim for himself any personal authority of divine origin, -descended to him from St. Peter, but that, on the contrary, he presents -himself as the defender of the canons, and looks upon the rights and -reciprocal duties of the churches as having been established by the fathers -and fixed by the council of Nicaea. He does not pretend that his church has -any exceptional rights, emanating from another source." This proof is -inconclusive. St. Leo had no occasion to claim personal authority for -himself, for whatever authority he had was official, not personal, and -inhered in him as the successor of Peter in the apostolic see of Rome, and -in this capacity he most assuredly did claim to have authority, when he -declared to the Empress Pulcheria, as we have seen, that, "by authority of -Peter, he annulled and made void and of none effect," the decree of -Chalcedon. What the author says he did not do, is precisely what he did do. -He does not annul and make void the decree by authority vested in him by -the canons, or which he holds by ecclesiastical right, but "by the -authority of Peter." He, moreover, was not defending the rights and -prerogatives of his own see, nor his authority as metropolitan, patriarch, -or supreme pontiff, for this was not called in question; the council most -fully recognized it, and in his letter defining the faith against Eutyches, -it professed to hear the voice of Peter. He was defending the canons, not -for himself, nor for churches subjected to him as patriarch of the West, -but for Alexandria, Antioch, and the metropolitans of Pontus, Asia Minor, -and Thrace, which the twenty-eighth canon of Chalcedon sought to subject to -the bishop of Constantinople; and he therefore had no occasion to dwell on -the exceptional rights, or rights not derived from the canons, but from God -through Peter, of the Roman Church. It sufficed him to exercise them, which -he did do effectually. - -"By ecclesiastical right he is the first bishop of the church," the author -continues; "besides, he occupies the apostolic see of the West; in these -characters he _must_ interfere and prevent the ambition of one -particular church from impairing rights that the canons have accorded to -other bishops too feeble to resist." Wherefore must he do so? In these -characters he might offer his advice, he might even refuse his assent to -acts he disapproved; but he could not authoritatively interfere in any -matters outside of his own particular diocese, or his own patriarchate, far -less to annul and make void acts which did not concern him in either of -these characters. -{585} -He had no right to interfere in the way he did, except as supreme pontiff -and head of the whole church, and Roman theologians have never claimed for -the Roman pontiff greater power than St. Leo exercised in the case of the -council of Chalcedon. - -"After reading all that St. Leo has written against the canon of the -council of Chalcedon, it cannot be doubtful what he meant." We agree to -that, nor is it doubtful what he did. He annulled and made void by -authority of Peter an act of a general council, and null and void it -remained. - -"He does not claim for himself the autocracy which Roman theologians make -the groundwork of the papal authority." Very likely not, for nobody claims -it for the Roman pontiff, as we showed in our former article. He is the -supreme pastor, not the autocrat, of the church. "In his letter to the -fathers of the council of Chalcedon he only styles himself 'guardian of the -Catholic faith and of the constitutions of the fathers,' and not chief and -master of the church by divine right." Does he deny that he is chief and -master by divine right? Certainly not, and no one can read his letters -without feeling that in every word and syllable he speaks as a superior, in -the language and tone of supreme authority. His reply to Anatolius is such -as could be written only by a superior not only in rank, but in authority, -and while replete with the affection of a father, it is marked by the -majestic severity of supreme power. - -The refusal of St. Leo to confirm the twenty-eighth canon gave rise to the -report that he had refused to confirm the acts of the council, and the -Eutychians, against whom its definitions of faith were directed, began to -raise their heads and boldly assert that they were not condemned, that the -definitions of the council against them counted for nothing, since the -Roman pontiff had refused to confirm them, as he refused to confirm the -doings of the Ephesian Latrocinium. The imperial court became alarmed, and -the emperor wrote to St. Leo for an explicit statement of what he had done. -St. Leo answers that he has confirmed all the decrees of Chalcedon defining -the faith, but that he has not confirmed the decree erecting the church of -Constantinople into a patriarchal church. This fact does not seem to favor -the author's theory that the Roman pontiff was held to have only a primacy -of honor, nor that St. Leo did not claim universal jurisdiction. - -It will have been observed that the council of Chalcedon undertakes to -support, very illogically indeed, the twenty-eighth canon on the authority -of the third canon of the first council of Constantinople, which gave the -bishop of Constantinople simply the primacy of honor after the bishop of -Rome. But St. Leo, in the letter to the empress just cited, denies the -authority of that canon, on the ground that it had never been communicated -to Rome, and therefore could have no effect. - -We have dwelt at great length on the sixth canon of Nicaea, the third canon -of Constantinople, and twenty-eighth of Chalcedon, because they are the -author's three strongholds, and we have wished to show that they do not in -the least aid him--do in no sense contradict the papal authority, but, as -far as they go, tend to confirm it. The author claims St. Leo as a witness -against the Catholic doctrine of the papal supremacy, and we have thought -it well to show that he has in him about such a witness as he had in St. -Cyprian, or as he would have in our holy father, Pius IX., now gloriously -reigning. Leo Magnus is our ideal of a pope, or visible head of the -universal church, and we cannot sufficiently admire the hardihood or the -stupidity that would claim him as a witness against the primacy he adorned, -and the papal authority which he so gracefully and so majestically wielded, -and with such grand effects for the church and the empire. -{586} -No nobler man, no truer saint, no greater pontiff ever sat in the chair of -Peter, and no higher or more magnificent character is to be found in all -history. _Sancte Leo Magne, ora pro nobis_. - -The author says, p. 102: "The canons of the first oecumenical councils -throw incontestably a strong light upon the prerogatives of the bishop of -Rome. They are the complement to each other. The twenty-eighth canon -contains nothing less than the doctrine we defend, even though the -opposition of the West in the person of the bishop of Rome should strip it -of its oecumenical character, as certain theologians maintain." M. Guettée -finds but two canons that in any respect favor his doctrine, the third of -the second general council, and the twenty-eighth of the fourth, neither of -which was ever accepted by the universal church, and both of which have -remained from the first without Catholic authority. A doctrine sustained or -favored only by irregularity and violent innovation needs no refutation. -"St. Leo," the author continues, "did not protest against it, (the -twenty-eighth canon of Chalcedon,) as opposed to the divine and universal -authority of the see of Rome, _for which he claimed only an -ecclesiastical primacy_, but simply because it infringed upon the sixth -canon of the council of Nicaea." That he claimed only an ecclesiastical -primacy for his see is not true, for he claimed to annul the canon _by -authority of Peter_. Nor did he object to it only because it infringed -the sixth canon of Nicaea, but because it contained a grave innovation in -the constitution of the church, and attempted to found the authority of -bishops on a temporal instead of a spiritual and apostolic basis. It -proposed to change entirely the basis of the pontifical authority, which -had hitherto rested on Peter, and to make it rest on the empire. The church -of Constantinople was not an apostolic see, and only the bishop of an -apostolic see could be clothed with patriarchal authority. This seems to us -to be the great objection of St. Leo. Therefore, he writes to the emperor, -as already cited: "Let not the bishop of Constantinople disdain the -imperial city, which he cannot make an apostolic see." Hitherto only -apostolic sees, and indeed only sees founded by Peter, had been clothed -with the authority of patriarchal sees; and to give to a non-apostolic and -non-Petrine church authority over other metropolitan churches was to strike -at apostolic authority itself, and especially at that of Peter. The whole -organization of the church was from the first based on Peter as the -immediate representative of Christ and prince of the apostles. The -twenty-eighth canon of Chalcedon was therefore aimed at Peter, and in the -name and by the authority of Peter, whom he fully represented, St. Leo -annulled it, and declared it void, and the author, without knowing well -what he concedes, says: "St. Leo was right." - -"One fact is certain, that they (the Roman pontiffs) did not convoke the -first four oecumenical councils, that they did not preside over them, and -that they did not confirm them." This is certain only of the second general -council, or first of Constantinople. But suppose it, what follows? Simply -that they were not councils of the church at all--which will be very -pleasant news to Unitarians and Rationalists, who wish a Christianity -without Christ--and can have the authority of general councils only by the -_ex-post facto_ sanction of the universal church; but, as the two -canons on which the author bases his anti-papal theory have never received -that sanction, they have no authority, and never have had any. Hence, the -author's theory, on any ground he chooses, has nothing in the church to -sustain it. We shall, therefore, pass over what he adduces to prove the -part taken by the civil authority in the councils, with the simple remark -that the acts of several of them depend entirely on the confirmation of the -Roman pontiff and the _ex-post facto_ sanction of the church for their -authority. - -{587} - -M. Guettée's proofs are not seldom proofs of the contrary of what he -alleges. "It is undeniable fact," he says, p. 118, "that the dogmatic -letter addressed by St. Leo to the fathers of the council was there -examined, and approved for this reason: that it agreed with the doctrine of -Celestine [his predecessor] and Cyril, confirmed by the council of -Ephesus." That the letter was read in the council, and that the council -adopted its definitions of faith, is true; but that it was approved for the -reason alleged does not appear from the proofs the author adduces. He -continues, pp. 118, 119: "At the close of the reading, the bishops -exclaimed: 'Such is the faith of the fathers; this is the faith of the -apostles. We all believe thus. Anathema to those who do not thus believe. -Peter has spoken by Leo. Thus taught the apostles. Leo teaches according to -piety and truth, and thus has Cyril taught.'" Any one not bent on proving -the papacy schismatic would gather from this that the bishops approved of -the letter because they recognized in it the doctrine of the apostles and -the tradition of the fathers. - -The author imagines that he gets an argument against the papacy from St. -Leo's refusal to accept the title of _universal bishop_ offered him by -the council of Chalcedon, as we learn from Pope St. Gregory the Great. He -also thinks the argument is strengthened by the fact that St. Gregory -himself disclaimed it; and he therefore claims both of these great pontiffs -and great saints as witnesses against the pretensions of the bishops of -Rome. If they had believed in their jurisdiction by divine right over the -whole church, would they have refused the title of universal bishop? - -John the Faster, Bishop of Constantinople, on some occasion summoned a -particular council, and signed its acts, which he transmitted to Pope -Pelagius II. as universal patriarch, for which, as St. Gregory says, -Pelagius, "in virtue of the authority of the apostle St. Peter, nullified -the acts of the synod." Gregory succeeded Pelagius, and immediately on his -accession to the pontificate wrote to the patriarchs of Alexandria, -Antioch, and Jerusalem, condemning the title, and warning them and the -whole church of the danger it threatened; and also he wrote to John the -Faster himself, admonishing him of the impropriety of the title, not only -as savoring of pride and vanity, but as involving a most serious error -against faith, and beseeching him to lay it aside, lest he be obliged to -cut him off from the communion of the church, and depose him from his -bishopric. He does not at all disclaim his own authority as supreme pastor -and governor of the universal church, but quietly assumes it. Thus, he -writes to the emperor Maurice, as cited by the author: "All who know the -gospel know that the care of the whole church was confided by our Lord -himself to Peter, the first (St. Gregory says _prince_) of all the -apostles. Indeed, he said to him, 'Peter, lovest thou me? Feed my sheep.' -Again he said to him: 'Satan has desired to sift thee as wheat; but I have -prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not; and when thou art converted, -strengthen thy brethren.' It was also said to him: 'Thou art Peter, and -upon this rock will I build my church, and the gates of hell shall not -prevail against it; and I will give thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven, -and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and -whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.' He thus -received the keys of the celestial kingdom; the power to bind and loose was -given him; the care of all the church and the primacy -[_principatus_--principality, or primacy of jurisdiction] were -committed to him, and yet he did not call himself _universal apostle_. -But that holy man John, (bishop of Constantinople,) my brother in the -priesthood, [cosacerdos,] would fain assume the title of _universal -bishop_! O tempora! O mores!" (Pp. 212, 213.) - -"It is certain," St. Gregory continues, "that this title was offered to the -Roman pontiff by the venerable council of Chalcedon, to honor Blessed -Peter, prince of the apostles. -{588} -But none of us has consented to use this particular title, [title of -singularity,] lest by conferring a special matter on one alone, all priests -would be deprived of the honor which is their due. How, then, while we are -not ambitious of the glory of a title which has been offered us, does -another, to whom no one has offered it, have the presumption to take it?" -(Pp. 214, 215.) - -In his letter to Eulogius of Alexandria and Anastatius of Antioch, St. -Gregory is more explicit still, "As your holiness, whom I particularly -venerate, well knows, this title of _universal_, was offered by the -council of Chalcedon to the bishop [pontiff] of the apostolic see, which by -God's grace I serve. But none of my predecessors would use this impious -word, because in reality, if a patriarch be called _universal_, it -takes from all others the title of patriarch." The author, after quoting a -passage from another letter to Eulogius, adds: "Thus did Pope Gregory -condemn even in the person of the bishops of Rome the title of pope and -universal." But in this he is mistaken, as his own quotation shows. -Eulogius answers that he will not give the title of universal patriarch to -the bishop of Constantinople, but that he gives that of universal pope to -the Roman pontiff. "No," says St. Gregory, "if your holiness calls me -universal pope, you deny yourself what I should then be altogether." The -author interpolates in his quotation the copulative _and_, which is -not in St. Gregory's text. It is not to the title of pope that St. Gregory -objects, which was and is applied to simple presbyters, but the title -_universal_, which he will not permit to be applied to any man, -because it excludes others from all participation in the hierarchy, or even -the priesthood. If you call a man a universal presbyter, you deny that any -others are presbyters; if you call any one universal bishop, you exclude -all others from the episcopate; if you call any one universal patriarch, -you deny the patriarchate to all others; and if you call the bishop of Rome -universal pope, since as such he possesses the priesthood, and both the -apostolate and the episcopate in their plenitude, you exclude all others -from sharing the priesthood, the episcopate, or the apostolate, even the -pope himself from the church, and deny the solidarity of apostles, bishops, -and presbyters, asserted, as we have seen, by St. Cyprian. - -Eulogius was priest, bishop, and patriarch, and as such was the brother of -the Roman pontiff. This brotherhood remained all the same, whether the -Roman pontiff had or not supreme jurisdiction over the whole church. When -Eulogius called St. Gregory, not, as the author says, pope _and_ -universal, but universal pope, he denied this brotherhood, and deprived -himself of his own priestly, episcopal, and apostolic character. Hence, St. -Gregory, after saying to him and other bishops. "I know what I am, and what -you are; by your place or office, you are my brothers, by your virtues, my -fathers," he adds, in reference to the title of universal which Eulogius -had given him, "I beseech your holiness to do so no more in future, for you -take from yourself what you give in excess to another. I do not ask to -increase in dignities, but in virtues. I do not esteem that an honor by -which my brethren are deprived of theirs. For my honor is the honor of the -universal church, my honor is the unshaken firmness of my brethren. Then am -I truly honored when to no one is denied the honor that is his due. For, if -your holiness calls me universal pope, you deny that you are yourself what -I should be confessed to be universally. Sed absit hoc, Recedant verba quae -vanitatem inflant, et charitatem vulnerant." [Footnote 180] - - [Footnote 180: Opp. S. Gregorii Magni, lib. viii. epist. xxx. Migne's - edition, tom, iii. col. 953.] - -We may call the bishop of Rome pope of the universal church, but not -universal pope, nor universal bishop, because he only possesses in its -plenitude what is possessed in a degree by every member of the hierarchy, -and even now, as always, the pope addresses the bishops in communion with -him as "Venerable Brethren." -{589} -The argument against the claim of the bishop of Rome to jurisdiction in the -universal church, which the author attempts to build on the refusal of the -title of universal bishop by St. Leo, and that of universal pope, _papa -universalis_, by St. Gregory, is refuted by St. Gregory himself, as -cited in the volume before us, pp. 212, 213. The holy pontiff and doctor, -after asserting that our Lord had given to Peter the primacy of -jurisdiction, and confided to him the care of the universal church, adds -that Peter "did not call himself _universal apostle_." Peter was not -the only apostle, and the others could not be excluded from the -apostleship. He was prince of the apostles, their chief, the centre of -apostolic unity and authority, as St. Cyprian explains, and had the care -and jurisdiction (_principatus_) of the universal church, as Gregory -asserts, but inclusive, not exclusive of the other apostles. Peter held in -relation to the other apostles and the whole church all the supremacy -claimed by Catholics for the bishop of Rome. If, then, the refusal of the -title of universal apostle by St. Peter did not negative his supreme -authority, why should the refusal of the title of universal bishop or -universal pope by the bishops of Rome negative their supremacy, or their -primacy of jurisdiction in the whole church? Peter held that primacy, and -yet was not universal apostle, and why not, then, the bishop of Rome, -without being universal bishop or universal pope? - -The author is unhappy in his witnesses, and they are all too decidedly -Roman to testify otherwise than against him. He cites other eminent fathers -of the fourth and fifth centuries, but he raises no new questions, and -makes no points in his favor not already met and disposed of; and we may, -therefore, pass over what he adduces, since, as we continue to remind our -readers, we are not adducing our proofs of the papal authority, but -refuting his arguments or pretended arguments against it. - -In his fifth division, chapter, or section, the author examines "the -authority of the bishop of Rome in the sixth, seventh, and eighth -centuries." We have anticipated him in regard to St. Gregory the Great, the -most prominent papal figure in these centuries, and shown that this great -pontiff and doctor, who justly ranks along with St. Leo, offers no -testimony in support of the author's vain attempt to prove the papacy -schismatic. We have read this section of his book with care, but we find -that, while he shows very clearly that the Roman pontiff, to save the faith -and the constitution and canons of the church from the attacks of the -heretics and schismatics of the East, was obliged to intervene with his -supreme authority in the affairs of the Eastern churches more frequently -than in earlier ages, he brings forward nothing different from what has -already been refuted to prove that they did not possess the authority which -they exercised by divine right. We may say, then, that the author has -totally failed to establish his first conclusion, that "the bishop of Rome -did not for eight centuries possess the sovereignty of divine right which -he has since sought to exercise." The facts he adduces prove that during -those centuries the popes did exercise all the authority they have as -supreme pontiffs since exercised, and that they professed to exercise it by -divine right, and without any contradiction by the universal church. No -doubt the author has adduced instances in which general councils have -recognized it, and made it the basis of their action; but this does not -prove that the papal authority was conferred by the church, and was held -only by ecclesiastical right. No doubt the civil authority on more than one -occasion recognized it and made it the law of the empire, but this does not -prove that it was held as a grant of the emperor, but the reverse rather. -{590} -The author, then, has not refuted the argument from possession, turned the -presumption against the papacy, or proved that he and his friends the -Non-united Greeks are not decidedly schismatics in resisting the council of -Florence, in which both the East and West were represented and united. - -The author, having failed to establish his first conclusion, -notwithstanding his misquotations, mistranslations, and misrepresentations -of facts, which are numerous and barefaced enough to excite the envy of his -editor, the Protestant Episcopal bishop of Western New-York, cannot prove -his second conclusion, namely: The pretension of the bishops of Rome to the -sovereignty of divine right over the whole church was the cause of the -division. This depends on the first, and falls with it; for it is necessary -to deny the divine authority of the pope to govern the whole church before -his assumption and exercise of that authority can be held to be a -usurpation, and the cause of the divisions which result from resistance to -it. Resistance otherwise is illegal, unauthorized, and conclusive evidence -of schism, or, rather, is undeniably itself schism. The resistance on the -part of the Eastern bishops and prelates to the Roman pontiff in the -exercise of his legitimate authority was schism, as much so as an armed -insurrection against the political sovereign is rebellion, and the rebels -cannot allege that the sovereign in the exercise of his legitimate -authority is the cause of their rebellion, and hold him responsible for it. - -The author, forgetting that the pope is in possession, and that throughout -the presumption is in favor of his authority, argues as if the presumption -was on the other side, and the _onus probandi_ was on us. He, -therefore, concludes that every exercise of papal jurisdiction beyond the -patriarchate of the West is a usurpation, and resistance to it justifiable, -unless we are able to prove the contrary. We deny it, and maintain that it -is for him to prove that jurisdiction is usurped, and not held by divine -right. The laboring oar is in his hands. It is always for those who resist -authority to justify their resistance. The author can justify his -resistance to papal authority only by producing some law of God or some -canon of the universal church that restricts the jurisdiction of the Roman -pontiff to the Western patriarchate, and forbids him to exercise -jurisdiction over the whole church. A law or edict to that effect of the -empire or canon of the Eastern churches alone, could it be produced, would -not avail him; it must be a decision of the universal church, even -according to his own doctrine. He alleges no such act or canon, and can -allege none, for all the acts or canons of the universal church bearing on -the question, unhappily for him, are the other way. - -The author adduces the third canon of the second general council, and the -twenty-eighth of the fourth, but these canons, having never been assented -to by the West, are without the authority of the universal church. And, -besides they do not distinctly deny the supreme authority of the bishop of -Rome, and only profess to confer the first rank and authority after the -Roman pontiff on the bishop of Constantinople. It is a strong presumption -against the author that he does not even allege any law or canon of the -universal church which the popes have violated, and his charge against them -is that of presenting themselves as defenders of the canons against -innovation, as in the refusal of St. Leo to accept the twenty-eighth canon -of Chalcedon. - -But the author, with his usual facility, refutes himself, and shows that it -was not the pretension of the bishops of Rome, but the pretensions of the -bishop of Constantinople and of the secular government that caused the -division. We have seen that the third canon of the second general council, -and the twenty-eighth of the fourth, which was annulled by St. Leo, were in -violation of the canons, but were prompted by the ambition of the bishop of -Constantinople and the secular authority. -{591} -"We can perceive," says the author, p. 100. "in the struggles between the -bishops of Rome and Constantinople, respecting the twenty-eighth canon of -the council of Chalcedon, the origin of the dissensions which afterward led -to an entire rupture." And why did these dissensions lead to an entire -rupture? Certainly because the same parties continued to maintain the same -claims in relation to each other. The ground of the dissension remained -always the same. The question, then, is, which party in the beginning was -in the right, and which was in the wrong? "In principle," says the author -on the same page, "St. Leo was right;" that is, right in defending the -canons of the holy fathers and the decrees of the venerable council of -Nicaea against their violation and subversion by the innovations of -Constantinople and Chalcedon. St. Leo, the author himself says, presented -himself as the defender of antiquity and the canons of Nicaea; he must, -then, have been right not only in principle, but in fact. The real cause of -the division was not the pretension of the bishops of Rome to an authority -which they did not possess, but their refusal to assent to the violent and -shameless usurpations of Constantinople. The attitude of the popes and the -ground on which they resisted from first to last, were distinctly taken by -St. Leo in his letter to the emperor, Marcian, already cited: "Privilegia -ecclesiarum, sanctorum Patrum canonibus instituta et venerabilis Nicaenae -synodi fixa decretis, nulla possunt improbitate convelli, nulla mutari -novitate." [Footnote 181] - - [Footnote 181: Ad Marcianum Augustum, epist. 105, edit. Migne.] - -But St. Leo "could not deny," says the author, "that one general council -had the same rights as another that had preceded it." But, even if so, none -of the innovations proposed by the East and opposed by the bishops of Rome -have ever had the authority of a general council. There is and can be, even -according to the author and his schismatic Greek friends, no general -council without the bishop of Rome; and the canons on which the author -relies were from the first resisted by the Roman pontiff, and, therefore, -could not override or abrogate the decrees of the council of Nicaea. - -The whole controversy originated in the attempt to raise the see of -Constantinople, which was not an apostolic, a patriarchal or even a -metropolitan see, to the rank and authority of the first see in the church -after that of the see of Rome, contrary to the sixth canon of Nicaea, to -the constitution of the church, to ancient usage, and to the prejudice of -the bishops of Alexandria and Antioch, and the metropolitans of Pontus, -Asia, (Minor.) and Thrace. On what ground does the author seek to defend -this attempt, always resisted by the Roman pontiffs and the whole West? -Simply on the ground that the rank and authority of a see are derived from -the splendor and importance of the city in the empire. He assigns and -pretends to assign no other ground. "The Nicaean council," he says, "in -consecrating the usage by which the bishop of Rome was regarded as the -first in honor in the church, had in view not as much the apostolic origin -of his see as the splendor which he acquired from the importance of the -city of Rome. ... Why, then, should not the bishop of Constantinople have -been received as second in rank, Constantinople having become the second -capital of the empire; since the bishop of Rome was first in rank, only -because of its position as the first capital?" (Pp. 100, 101.) - -The argument is worthless, because its premises are false. In the first -place, the question is one of authority as well as of rank. In the second -place, the council of Nicaea did not consecrate the usage by which the -primacy, whether of honor or jurisdiction, was ascribed to the bishop of -Rome, but confirmed the usage by which the bishop of Alexandria, the bishop -of Antioch, and other metropolitans held a certain rank, and enjoyed -certain privileges, and gave as their reason that a like usage or custom -obtained with the bishop of Rome. -{592} -In the third place, the council says not one word about the splendor -acquired by the Roman pontiff from the importance of the city of Rome; and -we have proved that, whatever his rank and authority, he derived it from -the fact that his see was held to be the see of Peter, and he the successor -of Peter, the prince of the apostles. Finally, the author has no ground for -his assertion, except the third canon of the second general council and the -twenty-eighth of the fourth, the latter authoritatively annulled and the -former declared to be without effect by St. Leo, and neither ever receiving -the sanction or assent of the universal church. The ground on which the -bishop of Constantinople based his ambitious pretensions, that of being -bishop of the second capital of the empire, is wholly untenable. "Alia -ratio est rerum secularium, alia divinarum," says St. Leo. "We laughed," -says Pope St. Gelasius as cited by the author, p. 198, "at what they (the -Eastern bishops) claim for Acacius (bishop of Constantinople) because he -was bishop of the imperial city. ... The power of the secular empire is one -thing, the distribution of ecclesiastical dignities is quite a different -thing. However small a city may be, it does not diminish the greatness of -the prince who dwells there; but it is quite as true that the presence of -the emperor does not change the order of religion; and such a city should -rather profit by its advantages to preserve the freedom of religion, by -keeping peaceably within its proper limits." - -From first to last, one is struck, in reading the history of the -controversy, not only with the superior calmness and dignity of the Roman -pontiffs, but with their profound wisdom and catholic sense. They defend -throughout the catholicity of the church against Greek nationalism, and the -independence of the kingdom of Christ on earth against its subjection to -the secular empire, which was attempted and finally succeeded at -Constantinople, and is the case in Russia, Great Britain, and all modern -schismatical and heretical states and empires. The author sees and -appreciates nothing of this; he comprehends nothing of the church as the -mystic body of Christ, the continuous representation of the Incarnation; -his ideas are external, political, unspiritual, and, as far as appears from -his book, pagan rather than Christian. The church he recognizes, as far as -he recognizes any, is national, not catholic, and holds from the imperial -authority, not from Christ, and has no completeness in itself. - -It was precisely in nationalism, in regarding the church as organized for -the Roman empire, not for the whole world, and in recognizing the authority -of the civil power in theological and ecclesiastical matters, as the author -himself unwittingly shows, that the Greek schism originated. The bishop of -Constantinople, having in the hierarchy no apostolic, patriarchal, or -metropolitan rank or authority beyond that which is held by every suffragan -bishop, was obliged, in order to defend his ambitious aspirations to the -second rank in the church, to give the hierarchy a secular origin, and to -fall back on the imperial authority to support him. The idea was pagan, not -Christian, and was but too acceptable to the Byzantine Caesars. In pagan -Rome the emperor was at once imperator and pontifex maximus, and held in -his own person the supreme authority in both civil and religious matters. -He preserved the tradition of this in Christian Rome, and continually -struggled to be under Christianity what he had been under paganism. In the -West the imperial pretensions were in the main successfully resisted, -though not without long and bitter struggles, which have not even yet -completely ended; but in the East, owing to the ambition and frequent -heresy of the bishop of Constantinople, rarely faithful to the church after -Constantinople became an imperial capital, and the great patriarchates of -Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem, weakened by the Arian, Nestorian, -monophysite, and monothelite heresies, and betrayed by the heretics, had -fallen, through the pride, treachery, and imbecility of the Byzantine -court, under the power of the Mohammedans, those bitter enemies of the -cross, the emperor was enabled to grasp the pontifical power, to bring the -administration of religion under his despotic control, to make and unmake, -murder or exile bishops at his will or the caprices of the ladies of his -court. Hence the Greek schism. - -{593} - -And this is what M. Guettée defends; and because the Roman pontiffs did all -in their power to resist such open profanation and secularizing of the -church, he has the impudence to contend that it was the usurpations of Rome -that caused the schism, and he has found a Protestant Episcopal bishop in -Western New-York ignorant enough or shameless enough to endorse him, and to -assure us that he is a Catholic in the true sense of the word! - -Notwithstanding the author defends the usurpations of the imperial -authority and the ambitious pretensions of the courtly bishops of -Constantinople, and maintains that all the general councils held in the -East were convoked and presided over by the emperors, he does not blush to -object to the council of Florence on the ground that the reunion effected -in that council was brought about by the ambition of a few Eastern prelates -and the undue pressure of the emperor of Constantinople. If the -intervention of the emperor did not in his judgment vitiate the third canon -of the first council of Constantinople, or the twenty-eighth canon of -Chalcedon, or the fifth or sixth general council, what right has he to -pretend that a far less intervention on the emperor's part vitiated the -canons of the council of Florence? On the principles he has defended -throughout, the emperor may convoke, preside over a council, dictate and -confirm its acts, without detriment to its authority as a general council. -He is by his own principles, then, bound to accept the canons of Florence -as the voice of the universal church, for they were adopted by the East and -West united, and are and have been constantly adhered to by the West and -the Eastern churches proper, and resisted only by heretics and schismatics, -who have no voice in the church. - -We need proceed no further. We have said enough to refute the author in -principle, and are tired of him, as must be our readers. We said in the -beginning that he had told us nothing in his book that we did not know -before; but we are obliged to confess that the examination of authorities -into which it has forced us has made us feel as we never felt before how -truly the church is founded on Peter, brought home to us the deep debt of -gratitude the world owes to the Roman pontiffs, and enabled us to see more -clearly than we ever had done the utter groundlessness, the glaring -iniquity, and the open paganism of the Greek schism. The author has made -us, we almost fear, an ultra-papist, and certainly has strengthened our -attachment, already strong, to the Holy Apostolic See. He has served to us -the office of the drunken Helotae to the Spartan youth. It is in relation -to its purpose the weakest and absurdest book we have ever read, and has -not, so far as the author is concerned, a Christian thought from beginning -to end. If this book fairly represents the Christian intelligence and -sentiments of the Non-united Greeks, it is hard to see wherein they are to -be preferred to the Turks, or why Christendom should seek their deliverance -from the Mohammedan yoke. - -If M. Guettée's readers will weigh well the arguments for the papacy he -reproduces for the sake of refuting them, and his quotations from the -fathers and the Roman pontiffs for the sake of blunting their force, they -will find that, in spite of misquotations, mistranslations, and -misrepresentations, the book carries with it its own antidote. It can do -real harm only to those who cannot weigh testimony, who never think, and -are utterly unable to reason. - ------- - -{594} - - - Impressions of Spain. - - By Lady Herbert. - - - Excursions Near Seville. - -The excursions in the neighborhood of Seville are full of beauty and -interest of various kinds. One of the first undertaken by our travellers -was to the ruins of Italica, the ancient Seville, formerly an important -Roman city, and the birthplace of Trajan and of Adrian. In the church, half -convent and half fortress, are two very fine statues of St. Isidore and St. -Jerome, by Montanés. Here St. Isidore began his studies. He was hopelessly -dull and slow, and was tempted to give up the whole thing in despair, when -one day, being in a brown study, his eye fell on an old well, the marble -sides of which were worn into grooves by the continual friction of the cord -which let down the bucket. "If a cord can thus indent marble," he said to -himself, "why should not constant study and perseverance make an impression -on my mind?" His resolution was taken, and he became the light of his age -and country. The well which gave him this useful lesson is still shown near -the south door of the church. Here also is the monument of Doña Uraca -Osorio, a lady who was burnt to death by order of King Pedro the Cruel, for -having resisted his addresses. The flames having consumed the lower part of -her dress, her faithful maid rushed into the fire, and died in endeavoring -to conceal her mistress. In the sacristy is a very curious Byzantine -picture of the Virgin. Leaving the church our party went on to the -amphitheatre, which has recently been excavated, and must have contained -ten or twelve thousand people. A fine mosaic has lately been discovered, -which evidently formed part of the ancient pavement. The custode was a -character, and lived in a primitive little cabin at the entrance of the -circus: a moss bed and a big cat seemed the only furniture. He was very -proud of his tiny garden, poor old man! and of his wall-flowers, of which -he gave the ladies a large bunch, together with a few silver coins which -had been dug up in the excavations. - -On their way home they passed by a cemetery in which was a very beautiful -though simple marble cross. On it were engraved these three lines: - - Creo en Dios. - Espero en Dies. - Amo á Dios. - -It was the grave of a poor boy, the only son of a widow. He was not exactly -an idiot, but what people call a "natural." Good, simple, humble every one -loved him; but no one could teach him anything. His intelligence was in -some way at fault. He could remember nothing. In vain the poor mother put -him first to school, and then to a trade; he could not learn. At last, in -despair, she took him to a neighboring monastery, and implored the abbot, -who was a most charitable holy man, to take him in and keep him as a lay -brother. Touched by her grief, the abbot consented, and the boy entered the -convent. There, all possible pains were taken with him by the good monks to -give him at least some ideas of religion; but he could remember nothing but -these three sentences. Still, he was so patient, so laborious, and so good, -that the community decided to keep him. When he had finished his hard -out-of-door work, instead of coming in to rest, he would go straight to the -church, and there remain on his knees for hours. "But what does he do?" -exclaimed one of the novices. -{595} -"He does not know how to pray. He neither understands the office, nor the -sacraments, nor the ceremonies of the church." They therefore hid -themselves in a side chapel, close to where he always knelt, and watched -him when he came in. Devoutly kneeling, with his hands clasped, his eyes -fastened on the tabernacle, he did nothing but repeat over and over again: -"Creo en Dios; espero en Dios; amo á Dios." One day he was missing: they -went to his cell, and found him dead on the straw, with his hands joined -and an expression of the same ineffable peace and joy they had remarked on -his face when in church. They buried him in this quiet cemetery, and the -abbot caused these words to be graven on his cross. Soon, a lily was seen -flowering by the grave, where no one had sown it; the grave was opened, and -the root of the flower was found in the heart of the orphan boy. [Footnote -182] - - [Footnote 182: This anecdote is from the lips of Fernan Caballero.] - -Another morning our party visited the Cartucha, the once magnificent -Carthusian convent, with its glorious ruined church and beautiful and -extensive orange-gardens. Now all is deserted. The only thing remaining of -the church is a fine west wall and rose-window, with a chapel which the -proprietor has preserved for the use of his workpeople, and in the choir of -which are some finely carved wooden stalls; the rest have been removed to -Cadiz, where they form the great ornament of the cathedral. Here and there -are some fine "azulejos," and a magnificently carved doorway, speaking of -glories long since departed. This convent, once the very centre of all that -was most cultivated and literary in Spain, a museum of painting, -architecture, and sculpture, is now converted into a porcelain manufactory, -where a good-natured Englishman has run up a tall chimney, and makes ugly -cheap pots and pans to suit the taste and pockets of the Sevillians. O for -this age of "progress"! It is fair to say that the proprietor, who kindly -accompanied the party over the building, and into the beautiful gardens, -and to the ruined pagoda or summer house, lamented that no encouragement -was given by the Spanish nobles of the present day to any species of taste -or beauty in design, and that his attempts to introduce a higher class of -china, in imitation of Minton's, had met with decided failure; no one would -buy anything so dear. They had imported English workmen and modellers in -the first instance; but he said, that the Spaniards were apt scholars, and -had quickly learned the trade, so that his workmen are now almost -exclusively from the country itself. The only pretty thing our travellers -could find, and which was kindly presented to one of the party, was one of -the cool picturesque-shaped bottles made, like the "goolehs" of Egypt, of -porous clay, which maintains the coldness and freshness of any liquid -poured into it. - -Among the many charming expeditions from Seville, is one to Castilleja, -(the village before alluded to as the scene of the death of Fernan Cortes) -through the fertile plains and vine yards of Aljarafa. Here begins the -region which the Romans call the gardens of Hercules. It produces one of -the best and rarest wines in Spain: the plants having been originally -brought from Flanders by a poor soldier named Pedro Ximenes, who discovered -that the Rhine vines, when transplanted to the sunny climate of Andalusia, -lose their acidity, and yield the luscious fruit which still bears his -name. In the centre of this fertile plain stands a small house and garden, -to which is attached one of those tales of crime, divine vengeance, and -godlike forgiveness, which are so characteristic of the people and country. -About twenty years ago it was inhabited by a family consisting of a man -named Juan Pedro Alfaro, with his wife and a son of nineteen or twenty. -Their quiet and peaceable lives were spent in cultivating their vineyard -and selling its produce in the neighboring town. -{596} -They were good and respectable people, living in peace with their -neighbors, and perfectly contented with their occupation and position. One -thing only was felt as a grievance. A lawyer, of the character of the -"Attorney Case" in our childhood's story, had lately started an obnoxious -new tax on every cargo of wine brought into the city; and this tax, being -both unjust and illegal, they resolved to dispute. One day, therefore, when -the good man and his son were driving their mules to market with their -fruity burden, they were stopped by the attorney, who demanded the usual -payment. The younger man firmly but respectfully refused, stating his -reasons. The attorney tried first fair words, and then foul, without -effect, upon which he vowed to be revenged. The son, pointing to his -Albacetan poniard, on which was the inscription, "I know how to defend my -master." defied his vengeance; and so they parted. But never again was the -poor wife and mother's heart gladdened by the sight of their returning -faces. In vain she waited, hour after hour, that first terrible evening. -The mules returned, but masterless. Then, beside herself with fear, the -poor woman rushed off to the town to make inquiries as to their fate. No -one knew anything further than that they had been at Seville the day -before, had sold their wine for a good price, and been seen, as usual, -returning cheerfully home. She then went to the Audiencia, or legal supreme -court of the city, where the magistrates, touched by her tale, and alarmed -also at the disappearance of the men, who were known throughout the country -for their high character and respectability, caused a rigorous search to be -made in the whole neighborhood; but in vain. No trace of them could be -discovered. By degrees, the excitement in the town on the subject passed -away, and the poor muleteers were forgotten; but in the heart of the -widowed mother there could be no rest and no peace. The mystery in which -their fate was involved was so inexplicable that, the hope of their return, -however faint, would not die out; and for twenty years she spent her life -and her substance in seeking for her lost ones. At last, reduced to utter -misery, and worn out both in mind and body, she was forced to beg her daily -bread of the charity of the peasants: the "bolsa de Dios," as the people -poetically call it, a "bolsa" which, to do the Spaniards justice, is never -empty. The little children would bring her eggs and pennies; the fathers -and husbands would give her a corner by the "brasero" in winter, or under -the vine-covered trellis in summer; the wives and mothers knew what had -brought her to such misery, and had ever an extra loaf or a dish of -"garbanzos" set aside for the "Madre Ana," as she was called by the -villagers. She, humble, prayerful, hopeful, ever grateful for the least -kindness, and willing in any way to oblige others, at last fell dangerously -ill. The curé, who had been striving to calm and soothe that sorely tried -soul, was one day leaving her cottage, when his attention was attracted by -a crowd of people, with the mayor at their head, who were hurrying toward -an olive wood near the village. He followed, and, to his horror, found that -the cause of the sensation was the discovery of two human skeletons under -an olive-tree, the finger of one of which was pointing through the earth to -heaven, as if for vengeance. The mayor ordered the earth to be removed: the -surgeon examined the bodies, and gave it as his opinion that they must have -been dead many years. But on examining the clothes, a paper was found which -a waterproof pocket had preserved from decay. The attorney, who was -likewise present, seized it; but no sooner had his eyes lighted on the -words than he fell backward in a swoon. "What is the matter? what has he -read?" exclaimed the bystanders as with one voice. "It is a certificate -such as used to be carried by our muleteers," exclaimed the mayor, taking -the paper from the lawyer's hand; and opening it, he read out loud the -following words: "_Pass for Juan Pedro Alfaro._" - -{597} - -Here, then, was the unravelling of the terrible mystery: the men had -evidently been murdered on their way home. The attorney recovered from his -fainting fit, but fever followed, and in his delirium he did nothing but -exclaim: "It is not I!--my hands are free from blood. It is Juan Caño and -Joseph Salas." These words, repeated by the people, caused the arrest of -the two men named, who no sooner found themselves in the hands of justice -than they confessed their crime, and described how, having been excited to -do so by the attorney, they had shot both Juan Alfaro and his son, from -behind some olive-trees, on their way home from market, had robbed, and -afterward buried them in the place where the bodies had been found. -Sentence of death was passed upon the murderers, while the attorney was -condemned to hard labor for life, and to witness, with a rope round his -neck, the execution of his accomplices in the fatal deed. The poor "Madre -Ana" had hardly recovered from her severe illness when these terrible -events transpired. The indignation of the peasantry, and their compassion -for her, knew no bounds: they would have torn the attorney in pieces if -they could. The widow herself, overwhelmed with grief at this confirmation -of her worst fears, remained silent as the grave. At last, when those -around her were breathing nothing but maledictions on the heads of the -murderers, and counting the days to the one fixed for the execution of -their sentence, she suddenly spoke, and asked that the curé should be sent -for. He at once obeyed the summons. She raised herself in the bed with some -effort, and then said: "My father, is it not true that, if pardon be -implored for a crime by the one most nearly related to the victims, the -judges generally mitigate the severity of the punishment?" He replied in -the affirmative. "Then to-morrow," she replied, "I will go to Seville." -"God bless you! my daughter," replied the old priest, much moved; "the -pardon you have so freely given in your heart will be more acceptable to -God than the deaths of these men." A murmur of surprise and admiration, and -yet of hearty approval, passed through the lips of the bystanders. The next -day, mounted carefully by the peasants on their best mule, the poor widow -arrived at the Audiencia. Her entrance caused a stir and an emotion in the -whole court. Bent with age, and worn with sickness and misery, she advanced -in front of the judges, who, seeing her extreme weakness, instantly ordered -a comfortable chair to be brought for her. But the effort had been too -much; she could not speak. The judge, then addressing her, said: "Senora, -is it true that you are come to plead for the pardon of Juan Caño and -Joseph Salas, convicted of the assassination of your husband and son? and -also for the pardon of the lawyer, who, by his instigation, led them to -commit the crime?" She bowed her head in token of assent. A murmur of -admiration and pity spread through the court; and a relation of the -lawyer's, who saw his family thus rescued from the last stage of -degradation, eagerly bent forward, exclaiming: "Senora, do not fear for -your future. I swear that every want of yours shall henceforth be provided -for." - -The momentary feebleness of the woman now passed away. She rose to her full -height, and, casting on the speaker a look of mingled indignation and -scorn, exclaimed: "You offer me payment for my pardon? I do not _sell_ -the blood of my son!" - -No account of "life in Seville" would be complete without a bull-fight, -"corrida de toros;" and so one afternoon saw our travellers in a tolerably -spacious loggia on the shady side of the circus, preparing, though with -some qualms of conscience, to see, for the first time, this, the great -national sport of Spain. The roof of the cathedral towered above the arena, -and the sound of the bells just ringing for vespers made at least one of -the party regret the decision which had led her to so uncongenial a place. -{598} -But it was too late to recede. No one could escape from the mass of human -beings tightly wedged on every side, all eager for the fight. Partly, -perhaps, owing to the mourning and consequent absence of the court, there -were very few ladies; which, it is to be hoped, is also a sign that the -"corrida" has no longer such attractions for them. Presently the trumpets -sounded. One of the barriers which enclosed the arena was thrown open, and -in came a procession of "toreros," "banderilleros," and "chulos," all -attired in gay and glittering costumes, chiefly blue and silver, the hair -of each tied in a net, with a great bow behind, and with tight pink silk -stockings and buckled shoes. With them came the "picadores," dressed in -yellow, with large broad-brimmed hats and iron-cased legs, riding the most -miserable horses that could be seen, but which, being generally -thoroughbred, arched their necks and endeavored, poor beasts! to show what -once they had been. They were blindfolded, without which they could not -have been induced to face the bull. The procession stopped opposite the -president's box when the principal "torero" knelt and received in his hat -the key of the bull's den, which was forthwith opened; and now the sport -began. A magnificent brownish red animal dashed out into the centre of the -arena, shaking his crest and looking round him as if to defy his -adversaries, pawing the ground the while. The men were all watching him -with intense eagerness. Suddenly the bull singled out one as his adversary, -and made a dash at a "banderillero" who was agitating a scarlet cloak to -the left. The man vaulted over the wooden fence into the pit. The bull, -foiled, and knocking his horns against the wooden palings with a force -which seemed as if it would bring the whole thing down, now rushed at a -"picador" to the right, from whose lance he received a wound in the -shoulder. But the bull, lowering his head, drove his horns right into the -wretched horse's entrails, and, with almost miraculous strength, galloped -with both horse and rider on his neck round the whole arena, finally -dropping both, when the "picador" was saved by the "chulos," but the horse -was left to be still further gored by the bull, and then to die in agony on -the sand. This kind of thing was repeated with one after the other, till -the bull, exhausted and covered with lance-wounds, paused as if to take -breath. The "banderilleros" chose this moment, and with great skill and -address advanced in front of him, with their hands and arms raised, and -threw forward arrows, ornamented with fringed paper, which they fixed into -his neck. This again made him furious, and, in eager pursuit of one of his -enemies, the poor beast leapt out of the arena over the six-feet high -barrier into the very middle of the crowded pit. The "sauve qui peut" may -be imagined; but no one was hurt, and the din raised by the multitude -seemed to have alarmed the bull, who trotted back quietly into the circus -by a side-door which had been opened for the purpose. Now came the exciting -moment. The judge gave the signal, and one of the most famous "matadores," -Cuchares by name, beautifully dressed in blue and silver, and armed with a -short sharp sword, advanced to give the _coup de grâce_. This requires -both immense skill and great agility; and at this very moment, when our -party were wound up to the highest pitch of interest and excitement, a -similar scene had ended fatally for the "matador"' at Cadiz. But Cuchares -seemed to play with his danger; and though the bull, mad with rage, pursued -him with the greatest fury, tearing his scarlet scarf into ribbons, and -nearly throwing down the wooden screens placed at the sides of the arena as -places of refuge for the men when too closely pressed to escape in other -ways, he chose a favorable moment, and, leaping forward, dug his short -sword right into the fatal spot above the shoulder. -{599} -With scarcely a struggle, the noble beast fell, first on his knees, and -then rolled over dead. The people cheered vociferously, the trumpets -sounded. Four mules, gayly caparisoned, were driven furiously into the -arena; the huge carcass, fastened to them by ropes, was dragged out, -together with those of such of the horses as death had mercifully released, -and then the whole thing began over again. Twenty horses and six bulls were -killed in two hours and a half, and the more horrible the disembowelled -state of the animals, the greater seemed the delight of the spectators. It -is impossible, without disgusting our readers, to give a truthful -description of the horrible state of the horses. One, especially, caused a -sensation even among the "habitués" of the ring. He belonged to one of the -richest gentlemen in Seville, had been his favorite hack, and was as well -known in the Prado as his master. Yet this gentleman had the brutality, -when the poor beast's work was ended, to condemn him to this terrible fate! -The gallant horse, disembowelled as he was, _would not die_: he -survived one bull after the other, though his entrails were hanging in -festoons on their horns, and finally, when the gates were opened to drag -out the carcasses of the rest, he managed to crawl away also and to drag -himself where? To the very door of his master's house, which he reached, -and where he finally lay down and died. His instinct, unhappily wrong in -this case, had evidently made him fancy that _there_, at any rate, he -would have pity and relief from his agony: for the wounds inflicted by the -horns of the bull are, it is said, horrible in their burning, smarting -pain. Fernan Caballero was with the wife of a famous "matador," whose chest -was transfixed by the bull at the moment when, thinking the beast's -strength was spent, he had leant forward to deal the fatal stroke, He -lingered for some hours, but in an agony which she said must have been seen -to be believed. Generally speaking, however, such accidents to the men are -very rare. Carlo Puerto, one of the "picadores," was killed last year by a -very wary bull, who turned suddenly, and, catching him on his horns in the -stomach, ran with him in that way three times round the arena!--but that -was the fault of the president, who had insisted on his attacking the bull -in the centre of the ring, the "picadores" always remaining close to the -screen, so that their escape may be more easily managed. If the sport could -be conducted, as it is said to be in Salamanca and in Portugal, without -injury to the horses, the intense interest caused by a combat where the -skill, intelligence, and agility of the man are pitted against the -instinct, quickness, and force of the bull, would make it perhaps a -legitimate as well as a most exciting amusement; but, as it is at present -conducted, it is simply horrible, and inexcusably cruel and revolting. It -is difficult to understand how any woman can go to it a second time. The -effect on the people must be brutalizing to a frightful extent, and -accounts in a great measure for their utter absence of feeling for animals, -especially horses and mules, which they ill use in a manner perfectly -shocking to an Englishman, and apparently without the slightest sense of -shame. But there is no indication of this sport becoming less popular in -Spain. Combats with "novillos," or young bulls, whose horns are tipped to -avoid accidents, are a common amusement among the young aristocracy, who -are said to bet frightfully on their respective favorites; and thus the -taste is fostered from their cradles. - -{600} - - The Charitable Institutions and Convents of Seville. - -A few days after the holy week, our travellers decided on visiting some of -the far-famed charitable institutions of Seville; and, taking the kind and -benevolent Padre B---- as their interpreter, they went first to the -Hospital del Sangre, or of the "Five Wounds," a magnificent building of the -sixteenth century, with a Doric façade 600 feet long, a beautiful portal, -and a "patio," in the centre of which is the church, a fine building, built -in the shape of a Latin cross, and containing one or two good Zurbarans. -There are between 300 and 400 patients; and in addition to the large wards, -there are--what is so much needed in our great London hospitals, and which -we have before alluded to at Madrid--a number of nicely-furnished little -separate rooms for a higher class of patients, who pay about two shillings -a day, and have both the skill of the doctors and the tender care of the -sisters of charity, instead of being neglected in their own homes. There -was a poor priest in one of these apartments, in another a painter, and in -a third a naval captain, a Swede, and so on. The hospital is abundantly -supplied with everything ordered by the doctors, including wine, brandy, -chickens, or the like; and in this respect is a great contrast to that at -Malaga, where the patients literally die for want of the necessary extra -diets and stimulants which the parsimony of the administration denies them. -In each quadrangle is a nice garden, with seats and fountains, and full of -sweet flowers, where the patients, when well enough, can sit out and enjoy -the sunshine. There is not the slightest _hospital smell_ in any one -of the wards. The whole is under the administration of the Spanish sisters -of charity of St. Vincent de Paul; and knowing that, no surprise was felt -at the perfection of the "lingerie," or the admirable arrangement and order -of the hospital. They have a touching custom when one of the patients is -dying, and has received the viaticum, to place above his head a special -cross, so that he may be left undisturbed by casual visitors. The sisters -have a little oratory up-stairs, near the woman's ward, beautifully fitted -up. An air of refinement, of comfort, and of _home_ pervades the whole -establishment. - -Close to this hospital is the old tower where St. Hermengilde was put to -death, on Easter eve, by order of his unnatural father, because he would -not join the Arian heresy, or receive his paschal communion from the hands -of an Arian bishop. This was in the sixth century; and is not the same -persecution, and for the same cause, going on in Poland in the nineteenth? -[Footnote 183] The old Gothic tower still remains, and in it his close -dungeon. A church has been built adjoining, but the actual prison remains -intact. There are some good pictures in the church, especially a Madonna, -by Murillo; and a clever picture of St. Ignatius in his room, meditating on -his conversion. There is also a fine statue of St. Hermengilde himself, by -Montanés, over the high altar. The good old priest who had the care of this -church lived in a little room adjoining, like a hermit in his cell, -entirely devoted to painting and to the "culte" of his patron saint. St. -Gregory the Great attributes to the merits of this martyr the conversion of -his brother, afterward King Recared, the penitence of his father, and the -christianizing of the whole kingdom of the Visigoths in Spain. - - [Footnote 183: The manner in which, during this very last Easter, the - poor Polish Catholics have been treated and forced to receive - schismatical communions through a system of treachery unparalleled in - the annals of the church, is unfortunately not sufficiently known in - England, where alone public opinion could be brought to bear on the - instigators of such tyranny. The strife between Russia and Poland has - ceased to be anything but a religious struggle: Russia is determined to - quench Catholicism out of the land. But the cry of hundreds of exiled - pastors of the flock is rising to heaven from the forests and mines of - Siberia; in the holy sacrifice (offered in earthenware cups on common - stones) they still plead for their people before the throne of the - great Intercessor. And that cry and those prayers will be answered in - God's own time and way.] - -From thence our travellers went on to the orphanage managed by the -"Trinitarian sisters." The house was built in the last century, by a -charitable lady, who richly endowed it, and placed 200 children there; now, -the government, without a shadow of right has taken the whole of the funds -of the institution, and allows them barely enough to purchase bread. The -superior is in despair, and has scarcely heart to go on with the work. -{601} -She has diminished the number of the child and has been obliged to curtail -their food, giving them neither milk nor meat except on great festivals. -But for the intervention of the Duc de Montpensier, and other charitable -persons, the whole establishment must long since have been given up. There -are twenty four sisters. The children work and embroider beautifully, and -are trained to every kind of industrial occupation. From this orphanage our -party went to the Hospital for Women, managed by the sisters of the third -order of St. Francis. It is one of the best hospitals in Seville. There are -about 100 women, admirably kept and cared for, and a ward of old and -incurable patients besides. The superior, a most motherly, loving soul, to -whom every one seemed much attached, took them over every part of the -building. She has a passion for cats, and beautiful "Angoras" were seen -basking in the sun in every window-sill. - -This hospital, like the orphanage, is a private foundation; but the -government has given notice that they mean to appropriate its funds, and -the poor sisters are in terror lest their supplies should cease for their -sick. It is a positive satisfaction to think that the government which has -dealt in this wholesale robbery of the widow and orphan is not a bit the -better for it. One feels inclined to exclaim twenty times a day: "Thy money -perish with thee!" - -But of all the charitable institutions of Seville, the finest is the -Caridad, a magnificent hospital, or rather "asilo," for poor and incurable -patients, nursed and tended by the Spanish sisters of St. Vincent de Paul. -It was founded in the seventeenth century, by Don Miguel de Mañara, a man -eminent for his high birth and large fortune, and one of the knights of -Calatrava, an order only given to people whose quarterings showed nobility -for several generations. He was in his youth the Don Juan of Seville, -abandoning himself to every kind of luxury and excess, although many -strange warnings were sent to him from time to time, to arrest him in his -headlong, downward course. On one occasion especially, he had followed a -young and apparently beautiful figure through the streets and into the -cathedral, where, regardless of the sanctity of the place, he insisted on -her listening to his addresses. What was his horror, on turning round, in -answer to his repeated solicitations, when the face behind the mask proved -to be that of a skeleton! So strongly was this circumstance impressed on -his mind, that he caused it afterward to be painted by Valdés, and hung in -the council-room of the hospital. Another time, when returning from one of -his nocturnal orgies, he lost his way, and, passing by the church of -Santiago, saw, to his surprise, that the doors were open, the church lit, -and a number of priests were kneeling with lighted tapers round a bier in -perfect silence. He went in and asked "whose was the funeral?" The answer -of one after the other was: "Don Miguel de Mañara." Thinking this a bad -joke, he approached the coffin, and hastily lifted up the black pall which -covered the features of the dead. To his horror he recognized himself. This -event produced a complete change in his life. He resolved to abandon his -vicious courses, and marry, choosing the only daughter of a noble house, as -much noted for her piety as for her beauty. But God had higher designs in -store for him, and, after a few years spent in the enjoyment of the purest -happiness, his young wife died suddenly. In the first violence of his -grief, Don Miguel thought but of escaping from the world altogether, and -burying himself in a monastery. But God willed it otherwise. There was at -that time, on the right bank of the Guadalquivir, a little hermitage -dedicated to St. George, which was the resort of a confraternity of young -men who had formed themselves into brothers of charity, and devoted -themselves to the care of the sick and dying poor. -{602} -Don Diego Mirafuentes was their "hermano mayor," or chief brother, and, -being an old friend of Don Miguel's, invited him to stay with him, and by -degrees enlisted all his sympathies in their labors of love. He desired to -be enrolled in their confraternity, but his reputation was so bad that the -brotherhood hesitated to admit him; and, when at last they yielded, -determined to put his sincerity and humility to the test by ordering him to -go out at once from door to door throughout Seville (where he was so well -known) with the bodies of certain paupers, and to crave alms for their -interment. Grace triumphed over all natural repugnance to such a task; and -with his penitence had come that natural thirst for penance which made all -things appear easy and light to bear, so that very soon he became the -leader in all noble and charitable works. - -Finding that an asylum or home was sadly needed in winter for the reception -of the houseless poor, he purchased a large warehouse, which he converted -into rooms for this purpose; and, by dint of begging, got together a few -beds and necessaries, so that by the Christmas following more than two -hundred sick or destitute persons were here boarded and lodged. From this -humble beginning arose one of the most magnificent charitable institutions -in Spain. The example of Don Miguel, his burning charity, his austere -self-denial, his simple faith won all hearts. Money poured in on every -side; every day fresh candidates from the highest classes pleaded for -admission into the confraternity. It was necessary to draw up certain rules -for their guidance, and this work was entrusted to Don Miguel, who had been -unanimously elected as their superior. Nowhere did his wisdom, prudence, -and zeal appear more strongly than in these regulations, which still form -the constitutions of this noble foundation. Defining, first, the nature of -their work the seeking out and succoring the miserable, nursing the sick, -burying the dead, and attending criminals to their execution--he goes on to -insist on the value of personal service, both private and public; on the -humility and self-abnegation required of each brother; that each, on -entering the hospital, should forget his rank, and style himself simply -"servant of the poor," kissing the hand of the oldest among the sufferers, -and serving them as seeing Jesus Christ in the persons of each. The notices -of certain monthly meetings and church services which formed part of the -rule of the community were couched in the following terms: "This notice is -sent you lest you should neglect these holy exercises, which may be the -last at which God will allow you to assist." Sermons and meditations on the -passion of our Lord, and on the nearness of death and of eternity, formed -the principal religious exercises of the confraternity; in fact, the -Passion is the abiding devotion of the order. - -His hospital built, and his poor comfortably housed and cared for, Miguel -turned his attention to the church, which was in ruins. A letter of his, -still extant, will show the difficulties which he had to overcome in this -undertaking. "We had hoped," he writes, "that one of our brothers, who was -rich and childless, would have given us something to begin the restoration; -but he died without thinking of the church, and so vanished our golden -hopes, as they always will when we put our trust in human means to -accomplish God's ends. I was inclined to despond about it; when, the next -morning, at eight o'clock, a poor beggar named Luis asked to speak to me. -'My wife is just dead,' he said. 'She sold chestnuts on the Plaza, and -realized a little sum of eighty ducats. To bury her I have spent thirty: -fifty remain; they are all I have; but I bring them to you, that you may -lay the first stone of the new church. I want nothing for myself but a bit -of bread, which I can always beg from door to door.'" -Don Miguel refused, the beggar insisted; and so the church was begun: and -the story spread, and half a million of ducats were poured into the laps of -the brothers; but, as Mañara added, "the first stone was laid by God -himself in the 'little all' of the poor beggar." [Footnote 184] - - [Footnote 184: How often, when buying chestnuts of one of the old women - in the Plaza of the Caridad, did the recollection of this story come - into the mind of our traveller!] - - -{603} - -This church was filled in 1680 with the chefs-d'oeuvre of Murillo and of -Valdés Leal: an autograph letter from the great religious painter is still -shown in the Sala Capitular of the hospital, asking to be admitted as a -member of the confraternity. "Our Saviour as a child;" "St. John and the -lamb;" "San Juan de Dios with an angel;" the "Miracle of the Loaves and -Fishes;" but, above all, "Moses striking the Rock," called "La Sed," (so -admirably is _thirst_ represented in the multitudes crowding round the -prophet in the wilderness,) were the magnificent offerings of the new -"brother" toward the decoration of God's house and the cause of charity. -Equally striking, but more painful in their choice of subjects, are the -productions of Valdés, especially a "Dead Bishop," awful in its contrast of -gorgeous robes with the visible work of the worms beneath, and of which -Murillo said "that he could not look at it without holding his nose." Other -pictures by Murillo formerly decorated these walls; but they were stolen by -the French, and afterward sold to English collectors, the Duke of -Sutherland and Mr. Tomline being among the purchasers. After the church, -the most remarkable thing in the Caridad is the "patio," divided into two -by a double marble colonnade. Here the poor patients sit out half the day, -enjoying the sunshine and the flowers. On the wall is the following -inscription, from the pen of Mañara himself, but which loses in the -translation: "This house will last as long as God shall be feared in it, -and Jesus Christ be served in the persons of his poor. Whoever enters here -must leave at the door both avarice and pride." - -The cloisters and passages are full of texts and pious thoughts, but all -associated with the two ideas ever prominent in the founders mind--charity -and death. Over what was his own cell is the following, in Spanish: "What -is it that we mean when we speak of death? It is being free from the body -of sin, and from the yoke of our passions: therefore, to live is a bitter -death, and to die is a sweet life." - -The wards are charmingly large and airy, and lined with gay "azulejos." The -kitchen is large and spacious, with a curious roof, supported by a single -pillar in the middle. Over the president's chair, in the Sala Capitular, is -the original portrait of Don Miguel Mañara, by his friend Valdés Leal, and, -at the side, a cast taken of his face after death, presented to the -confraternity by Vicentelo de Leca. Both have the same expression of -dignity and austerity, mingled with tenderness, especially about the mouth; -and the features have a strong resemblance to those of the great Condé. He -died on May 19th, 1679, amidst the tears of the whole city, being only -fifty-three years of age: but a nature such as his could not last long. A -very interesting collection of his letters is still shown in the hospital, -and his life has been lately admirably translated into French by M. Antoine -de Latour. - -The "Sacré Coeur" have established themselves lately in Seville, through -the kindness of the Marquesa de V----, and are about to open a ladies' -school--which is very much needed--on the site of a disused Franciscan -convent. The archbishop has given them the large church adjoining the -convent; and it was almost comical to see the three or four charming -sisters, who are beginning this most useful and charitable work, singing -their benediction _alone_ in the vast chancel, until the building can -be got ready for the reception of their pupils. - -{604} - -Another convent visited by the ladies of the party was that of Sta. Ines, -which stands in a narrow street near the church of St. Felipe Neri. The -great treasure of this convent is the body of _Sta. Maria Coronel_, -which remains as fresh and as life-like as if she had died but yesterday. -Her history is a tragical one. Pedro the Cruel, falling madly in love with -her great beauty, condemned her husband, who was governor of the Balearic -Islands, to an ignominious death; but then, with a refinement of cruelty, -promised his pardon to his wife on condition that she would yield to his -passion. Maria Coronel, preferring death to dishonor, permitted the -execution of her husband, and fled for refuge to this convent, where the -king, violating all rights, human and divine, pursued her. One night he -penetrated into her cell. Maria, seeing no other mode of escape, seized the -lamp which burnt on the table before her, and poured the boiling oil over -her face, thus destroying her beauty for ever. The king, enraged and -disappointed, relinquished his suit; and the poor lady lived and died in -the convent. In the library of the university is an ancient MS. describing -Pedro the Cruel as "tall, fair, good-looking, and full of spirit, valor, -and talent!" but his execrable deeds speak for themselves. The curious -thing is, that the marks of the boiling oil are as clearly seen on Maria -Coronel's face now as on the day when the heroic deed was committed. The -sisters of this convent are dressed in blue, with a long black veil, and -their cloisters contain some very curious pictures and relics. - -The most interesting visit, however, paid by one of the party in Seville, -was to the strictly enclosed convent of Sta. Teresa, to enter which the -English lady had obtained special papal permission. Of the sorrows and -perils which St. Theresa experienced in founding this house, she herself -speaks in writing to her niece, Mary of Ocampo: "I assure you that of all -the persecutions we have had to endure, none can bear the least comparison -with what we have suffered at Seville." [Footnote 185] - - [Footnote 185: For both this and other quotations regarding St. - Theresa's foundations, the writer is indebted to the charming life of - the saint published by Hurst & Blackett in 1865, and which, from its - wonderful truth and accuracy, is a perfect handbook to anyone visiting - the Carmelite convents of Spain. She trusts that its author will - forgive her for having, often unintentionally, used her actual - expressions in speaking of places and of things, from the impossibility - of their being described by an eye-witness in any other manner.] - -Suffering from violent fever, calumniated by one of her own postulants, -denounced to the inquisition, persecuted incessantly by the fathers of the -mitigated rule, with no prospect of buying a house, and no money for the -purchase, the saint could yet find courage to add; "Notwithstanding all -these evils, my heart is filled with joy. What blessed things are peace of -conscience and liberty of soul!" It reminds one of another occasion, when -it was necessary to begin a foundation which was to cost a great, deal of -money, and the saint had but twopence-halfpenny. "Never mind," she replied -courageously, "twopence halfpenny and Theresa are nothing; but -twopence-halfpenny and God are everything!" And the work was accomplished. -In the case of the Seville house her patience and faith met with a like -reward. On the Feast of the Ascension, 1576, the blessed sacrament was -placed in the chapel of the new convent by the archbishop himself, -accompanied by all his clergy, who wished to make public amends to St. -Theresa and her nuns for the persecutions they had endured; and when -Theresa knelt to ask for his pastoral benediction, the archbishop, in the -presence of all the people, knelt to ask for hers in return, thus -testifying to the high estimation in which he held both her and her work. - -It was this convent, untouched since those days of trial, which our -visitors now entered. There are twenty two sisters, of whom three are -novices, and their rule is maintained in all its primitive severity. They -keep a perpetual fast, living chiefly on the dried "cabala," or stockfish, -of the country, and only on festivals and at Easter tide allowing -themselves eggs and milk. - -{605} - -They have no beds, only a hard mattress, stuffed with straw; this, with an -iron lamp, a pitcher of water, a crucifix, and a discipline, constitutes -the only furniture of each cell, all of which are alike. One or two common -prints were pasted on the walls, and over the doors hung various little -ejaculations: "Jesu, superabundo gaudio;" "O crux! ave, spes unica!" -"Domine, quid me vis facere?" or else a little card in Spanish, like the -following, which the English lady carried off with her as a memorial: - - Aplaca, mi Dios, tu ira, - Tu justicia y tu rigor. - Por los ruegos de Maria, - Misericordia, Señor! - Santo Dios, Santo fuerte, Santo inmortal, - Liberanos, Senor, de todo mal. - -At the refectory, each sister has an earthenware plate and jug, with a -wooden cover, an earthenware salt-cellar, and a wooden spoon. Opposite the -place of the superior is a skull, the only distinction. They are allowed no -linen except in sickness, and wear only a brown mantle and white serge -scapular, with a black veil, which covers them from head to foot. They are -rarely allowed to walk in the garden, or to go out in the corridor in the -sun to warm themselves. Their house is like a cellar, cold and damp; and -they have no fires. Even at recreation they are not allowed to sit, except -on the floor; and silence is rigidly observed, except for two hours during -the day. They have only five hours sleep, not going to bed till half-past -eleven, on account of the office. At eleven, one of the novices seizes the -wooden clapper, (or crecella,) which she strikes three times, pronouncing -the words: "Praise be to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the Blessed Virgin -Mary, his Mother; my sisters, let us go to matins to glorify our Lord." -Then they go to the choir, singing the Miserere. They are called again in -the same manner at half-past four by a sister who chaunts a verse in the -Psalms. At night a sentence is pronounced aloud, to serve as meditation. It -is generally this: - - My sisters, think of this: - a little suffering, - and then an eternal recompense. - -They see absolutely _no one_, receiving the holy communion through a -slit in the wall. The English lady was the first person they had seen face -to face, or with lifted veils, for twelve years. They play the organ of the -chapel, which is a public one, though they themselves are entirely -invisible; and they are not even allowed to see the altar, which is -concealed by a heavy black curtain drawn across the grating looking into -the church. They have an image of their great foundress, the size of life, -dressed in the habit of the order, and to her they go night and morning and -salute her, as to a mother. Their convent is rich in relics, beautiful -pictures, and crucifixes, brought in by different religious, especially the -Duchesse de Bega, who became a Carmelite about fifty years ago. But their -chief treasure is an original picture of St. Theresa, for which she sat by -command of the archbishop, and which has lately been photographed for the -Duc de Montpensier. It is a very striking and beautiful face, but quite -different from the conventional representations of the saint. When it was -finished, she looked at it, and exclaimed naively: "I did not know I was -grown so old or so ugly!" There is also in this sacristy a very beautiful -Morales of the "Virgin and a Dead Christ," and a curious portrait of Padre -Garcia, the saint's confessor. Up-stairs, in her own cell, they have her -cloak and shoes, and the glass out of which she drank in her last illness. -The stranger was courteously made to drink out of it also, and then to put -on the saint's cloak, in which she was told "to kneel and pray for her -heart's desire, and it would be granted to her." - -{606} - -But the most interesting thing in the convent is the collection of MSS. -They have the whole of the "Interior Mansion," written in her own firm and -beautiful handwriting, with scarcely an erasure; besides quantities of her -letters and answers from St. John of the Cross, from St. John of Avila, -from Padre Garcia, and a multitude of others. The superior is elected every -three years, and the same one cannot be reelected till three years have -elapsed. They require a "dot" of 8000 reals, or about a hundred pounds; but -their number is full, and several candidates are now waiting their turn for -admission. The government has taken what little property they once had and -gives them at the rate of a peseta (two reals) a day, so that, poor as -their food is, they are often on the verge of starvation. - -It was with a feeling almost of relief that the English lady found herself -once more in the sunshine outside these gloomy walls; yet those who lived -within them seemed cheerful and happy, and able to realize in the fullest -degree, without any external aid, those mysteries of divine love and that -beauty of holiness which, to our weaker faith, would seem impossible when -deprived of all sight of our Lord in his tabernacle or in his glorious -creations. We are tempted to ask, why it is that convents of this nature -are so repugnant to English taste? Every one is ready to appreciate those -of the sisters of charity. People talk of their good deeds, of the blessing -they are in the hospitals, of the advantages of united work, etc. etc.; but -as for the enclosed orders, "They wish they were all abolished." "What is -the good of a set of women shutting themselves up and _doing -nothing_?" Reader, _do_ they "do nothing"? We will not speak of the -schools; of the evening classes for working women; of the preparations for -first communions and confirmations; of the retreats within their sheltering -walls for those of us who, wearied with this world's toil and bustle, wish -to pause now and then and gain breath for the daily fight, and take stock, -as it were, of our state before God. These and other works like these, form -almost invariably a very important portion of the daily occupation of the -cloistered orders. But we will dismiss the thoughts of any external work, -and come to the highest and noblest part of their vocation. What is it that -is to "move mountains"? What is it that, over and over again in Holy -Scripture, has saved individuals, and cities, and nations? Is it not united -intercessory prayer? Is it nothing to us, in the whirl and turmoil of this -work-a-day life, that holy hands should ever be lifted up for us to the -Great Intercessor? Is there no _reparation_ needed for the sins, and -the follies, and the insults to the majesty of God, and to his sacraments, -and to his Mother, which are ever going on in this our native country? Does -it not touch the most indifferent among us to think of our self-indulgence -being, as it were, atoned for by their self-denial?--our pampered appetites -by their fasts and vigils? It is true that our present habits of life and -thought lead to an obvious want of sympathy with such an existence. It has -no public results on which we can look complacently, or which can be -paraded boastfully. Everything seems waste which is not visible; and all is -disappointment which is not obvious success. It is supernatural principles -especially which are at a discount in modern days! Surely the time will -come when we shall judge these things very differently; when our eyes will -be opened like the eyes of the prophet's servant; and we shall see from -what miseries, from what sorrows we and our country have been preserved by -lives like these, which save our Sodom, and avert God's righteous anger -from his people. [Footnote 186] - - [Footnote 186: In a simple but touching French biography of a young - English lady who lately died in the convent of the "Poor Clares" at - Amiens, the writer's idea is far more beautifully expressed: "A cette - heure de la nuit, peut-ètre qu'une jenne fille du monde, martyre (sans - couronne) de ses lois et de ses exigences, rentre chez elle, épulsée - d'emotions et de fatigues. En longeant le mur du monastère et en - entendant le son de la cloche qui appelle les recluses volontaires à la - prière elle se sera adressée cette question: 'A quoi servent done les - religieuses?' Je vais vous le dire: à _expier_. Après cette nuit - de plaisir que vous venez de passer au théatre ou au bal, viendra une - autre nuit--nuit d'angoisses et de supréme douleur. Vous étes la - étendue sur votre couche de mort en face de l'éternité ou vous allez - entrer seule, et sans appui. Peut-étre vous n'osez, ou vous ne pouvez - prier; mals quelqu'un a prié pour vous, et faisant violence au ciel, a - obtenu ce que vous n'etiez pas digne d'espérer. _Voila d quoi servent - les religieuses._"] - -{607} - -One more curious establishment was visited by our party at Seville before -their departure, and that was the cigar manufactory, an enormous government -establishment, occupying an immense yellow building, which looks like a -palace, and employing 1,000 men and 5,000 women. The rapidity with which -cigars are turned out by those women's fingers is not the least astonishing -part. The workers are almost all young, and some very beautiful. They take -off their gowns and their crinolines as soon as they come in, hanging them -up in a long gallery, and take the flowers out of their hair and put them -in water, so that they may be fresh when they come out; and then work away -in their petticoats with wonderful zeal and good humor the whole day long. -The government makes 90,000,000 reals a year from the profits of this -establishment, though the dearest cigar made costs but twopence! - -And now the sad time came for our travellers to leave Seville. In fact, the -exorbitant prices of everything at the hotel made a longer stay impossible, -though it was difficult to say what it was that they paid for: certainly -_not food_; for, excepting the chocolate and bread, which are -invariably good throughout Spain, the dinners were uneatable, the oil -rancid, the eggs stale; even "el cocido," the popular dish, was composed of -indescribable articles, and of kids which seemed to have died a natural -death. One of the party, a Belgian, exclaimed when her first dish of this -so-called meat was given her at Easter: "Vraiment, je crois que nous autres -nous n'avons pas tant perdu pendant le Carême!" An establishment has lately -been started by an enterprising peasant to sell milk fresh from the cow, a -great luxury in Spain, where goat's milk is the universal substitute; and -four very pretty Alderneys are kept, stall-fed, in a nice little dairy, "à -l'Anglaise," at one corner of the principal square, which is both clean and -tempting to strangers. At every corner of the streets, water, in cool, -porous jars, is offered to the passers by, mixed with a sugary substance -looking like what is used by confectioners for "meringues," but which melts -in the water and leaves no trace. This is the universal beverage of every -class in Spain. - -There is little to tempt foreigners in the shops of Seville, and, with the -exception of photographs and fans, there is nothing to buy which has any -particular character or "chique" about it. The fans are beautiful, and -form, in fact, one of the staple trades of the place; there is also a sweet -kind of incense manufactured of flowers, mixed with resinous gums, which -resembles that made at Damascus. But the ordinary contents of the shops -look like the sweepings-out of all the "quincaillerie" of the Faubourg St. -Denis. - -It was on a more lovely evening than usual that our travellers went, for -the last time, to that glorious cathedral. The sorrow was even greater than -what they had felt the year before in leaving St. Peter's: for Rome one -lives in hopes of seeing again; Seville, in all human probability, never! -The services were over, but the usual proportion of veiled figures knelt on -the marble pavement, on which the light from those beautiful painted -windows threw gorgeous colors. Never had that magnificent temple appeared -more solemn or more worthy of its purpose; one realized as one had never -done before one's own littleness and God's ineffable greatness, mercy, and -love. Still they lingered, when the inexorable courier came to remind them -that the train was on the point of starting, and with a last prayer, which -was more like a sob, our travellers left the sacred building. At the -station all their kind Seville friends had assembled to bid them once more -good-by, and to re-echo kind hopes of a speedy return; and then the train -started, and the last gleam of sunshine died out on the tower of the -Giralda. - ------- - -{608} - - Original. - - Il Duomo - - - A Vision. - - IL DUOMO, being interpreted, signifies "The Cathedral," and the subject - of the following poem is the picturesque and beautiful cathedral of - Milan. This splendid building is adorned externally by nearly five - thousand white marble statues, life size, of knights, martyrs, monks, - etc. etc., the roof being ornamented also externally with sculptured - buds and flowers in great profusion. Upward of fifty massive pillars - support the roof internally, and over the grand altar is suspended a - casket containing a nail from the true cross, and other relics. On the - topmost pinnacle of the cathedral stands, serene and splendid, a - glittering, gilded statue of the Madonna, who, with her eighteen feet - of stature, towers nobly above her magnificent body-guard of saints, - knights, and martyrs. - - - Faint with the sunny splendors of the king of light, - Nature disrobes, and from her wearied shoulders casts - The oppressive mantle of the burning day; - Flings to the glowing west her regal diadem of fire; - Upon her drooping brow all gladly binds - The calm and holy moon; - And with a zone of stars loops round her languid form - The cool sweet robe of night: - The placid moonbeams, o'er that stately fane, - Pour the rich affluence of their silvery light, - And with a chaste soft lustre, tint - The graceful slender spires, - The marble phalanx of the white-robed saints, - The silent knights, the multitudinous flowers, - The mother of our Lord, - And all the wonders of that wondrous roof! - With hushed and reverent step, through the wide doors I passed! - Passed from the outer splendors to the inner mystic gloom - Of the majestic pile; - Through the emblazoned windows streams the tempered light, - Showing dimly forth the shrines of holy men, - The sacred emblems, and the fifty marvellous pillars, - Dumb stony giants, who, with patient strength, - Bear up the ponderous roof; - Upon the altar steps I bend me down, and, awe-struck, rest. - Suddenly, through the deep stillness - Breathed a solemn sound, as sweet as mournful; - A hand unseen ran o'er the organ's keys, - And o'er the broad, dark air the harmonious waves - Rolled grandly on! - Entranced I heard, and soon the subtle strains - Distilled within my soul a deep oblivion - Of things terrestrial. - -{609} - - A vision came upon me, and I saw - The darkness melt, the shades opaque dissolve, - And the dull, sombre midnight change - To day bright lustre! - With soft and lambent flame the fifty columns glowed - From base to branching head, - And with supernal light pierced the thick denseness - Of the arched roof: - And I saw the innumerable leaves, - The sculptured garlands of fair buds and flowers-- - Strewn with such lavish hand o'er all that broad parterre-- - With life-renewing tints endowed: - The sacred vessels on the altar ranged, - The pious gifts of ages passed away, - And all the saintly relics of that holy place - Glittered with new effulgence! - Mine unused eyes drank in amazed the dazzling scene, - And now upon mine ears arose the clang of music, - And the sound of men rejoicing! - From their huge stanchions 'scaped the massy doors, - And through the enfranchised portal paced - A wondrous train! - A thousand mailèd knights, the Duomo's guards, - Strode proudly in! - As when in life they marched, so came they now; - No marble corslets still their lofty hearts, - Rich suits of Milan steel enclasp them round, - Through the gold helmets' bars their dark eyes flash, - Bright banners wave above them, and their hands - Clasp as of old the trenchant blade! - A stately white-robed troop, the Duomo's priests, - The pageant swells. - No rigid garb of stone impedes their solemn steps; - Girt round with high, ecclesial pomp, - The sacred aisles they pace, - The jewelled crosiers grasp, the censers swing, - And, as of yore, the glad "Hosannas" raise! - Again the clash of steel, the armed tread, - The banners' silken folds-- - And twice five hundred warriors - Pass the gaping doors! - Hark! in the air, a choir angelic sings: - - Wake, jubilant harps! peal, ye clarions of silver! - Swell, ye loud organs! for mighty's the theme! - Bend lowly the knee, ye saints, knights, and martyrs, - With offerings of gold let the high altar gleam! - Fill the gemmed censers with myrrh and with amber, - Deck the rich shrines with a splendor ne'er seen, - Raise high the song, the loud hymn of devotion, - Give homage to Mary, our lady, our queen! - -{610} - - Loud glorias peal, and with reverberant blast, - Throughout the illumined space, - The silver trumpets clang! - Doffed is the casque, the mitred head bent low, - The song subsides, and on that marvellous crowd - An awful silence dwells! - A Presence is among them-- - A Being gracious as resplendent. - And the resuscitate host is filled with holy terror! - She smiles benignly on the kneeling throng, - And melts with heavenly look the still, deep fear! - Again the hymn breaks forth, - With heavenly, earthly voices join, - Monks, warriors, martyrs swell the raptured strain! - - Lo! where she comes, all meek, yet all noble, - The glory celestial encircling her brows. - Fall prostrate, ye thousands, all lowly adore her; - Bare your swords, valiant knights, yet once make your vows; - Chant paeans, ye priests; let the harmonies roll - Till the gorgeous temple resounds to its veil. - Through our midst she is moving, the chosen, the holy: - Hail, Mary, Madonna, blest Virgin, all hail! - - The voices ceased, the echoes died away, - The mighty pillars throbbed no more with flame; - The roof closed in, the pageant vanished, - And the darkness swathed once more - The sombre nave. - Still on the air the organ's notes float sad and wailing, - Still through the storied windows streams the moon's soft light, - Still rest the things of earth; - The mute Colossi yet bear up - The vaulted roof; - The shrines still glimmer in the dim night air, - The mystic glories of my vision - Gone! - - Arthur Matthison. - ------- - -{611} - - Translated from Revue des Questions Historiques. - - Americus Vespucius and Christopher Columbus. - - The True Origin of the Name of America. - - - I. - -For three centuries, the world has regarded it as an historical fact that -Christopher Columbus, after enduring many wrongs at the hands of ungrateful -Spain, had the unspeakable mortification of seeing a usurper, screened -behind public injustice, wrest from him not only the honor of bestowing his -name on the world he had discovered, but the reward of glory, and the -supreme consolation of his last days. Fortunately this belief is erroneous. -Neither was Americus Vespucius a despoiler, nor was Columbus the victim of -so poignant an affront. It is true that the great navigator became after -death the subject of shameful misapprehensions; but his countrymen should -be held as free from the responsibility of this injustice as Columbus was -free from suspicion or presentiment of coming evil. The facts are fully -explained by the illustrious Prussian _savant_, who has consecrated -his glorious career in great part to the study of the New World. [Footnote -187] - - [Footnote 187: M. Alexander Von Humboldt, Critical Examination of the - History and Geography of the New World. Vols. iii. and iv. are entirely - devoted to an examination of this problem. We merely offer here an - abstract of this work, which is little known, and, while exceedingly - interesting, demands a very attentive perusal. See also Washington - Irving, History of Christopher Columbus, vol. iv. app. 9, Americus - Vespucius.] - -Americus or Alberic Vespucius, (Amerigo Vespucci,) born at Florence, March -9th, 1451, of an important family, was educated by his uncle, Giorgio -Antonio Vespucci, a Dominican monk, and one of the honorable personages -connected with the _Renaissance_. His fellow-student was René de -Vaudémont, who, later in life, after gloriously defending his duchy of -Lorraine against Charles the Bold, exercised in peace a noble patronage of -science and letters. - -Americus, when about forty years of age, left Italy for Spain, and entered -the flourishing commercial house founded at Seville by his countrymen the -Berardi. At this period a large number of Italians established themselves -in Spain, in Portugal, and even in England. Some became promoters of the -commerce fed by Portuguese discoveries, (the Marchioni at Lisbon;) others -(Cadomosto, the Corte reali) traced out a route along the African coast or -explored the icy barrier that guards the north-west passage; while others -again, (Christopher Columbus, John and Sebastian Cabot,) crossed the -Atlantic ocean, bringing back a wondrous discovery. This was one of the -glories of Italy, so rich in all glory during the fifteenth century. - -At first a clerk, and in 1496 the general accountant of the Berardi, -Americus Vespucius listened with passionate interest to narrations uttered -by the lips of Christopher Columbus himself. He studied astronomy and the -science of navigation, and made four voyages; the first two under -protection of the Spanish flag, the last two under that of Portugal. - -He naturally drew up an account of these expeditions. Like Columbus he -related his foreign experiences to friends and patrons; first, in three -successive letters, describing his first three voyages, written to the -Florentine, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici; and later, after his -fourth expedition, in a single narrative, containing a _résumé_ of all -his travels, addressed simultaneously, but not in the same form, to another -countryman, the gonfalonniere Piero Soderini, and to the Duke of Lorraine, -René II. This last was similar in tenor to a narrative sent by him a short -time before to Ferdinand the Catholic. - -{612} - -These four voyages, so soon made famous, are extracts, varied by Vespucius -according to the correspondents for whom they were destined. He drew them -from a complete and detailed account, written according "to the weakness of -his puny talent," [Footnote 188] as his overstrained modesty expresses it; -a work executed with assiduous care, "in order that coming generations -might remember him," but which he never published. It has not yet been -brought to light. - - [Footnote 188: "Juxta ingenioli mel tenuitatem." Crit. Exam, vol. iv. - p. 170, n. 1.] - -It is, then, only by those of his printed letters that have come down to -us--and they are not all preserved--that we know the dates and -circumstances of his voyages. - -In the first voyage, which took place between May 20th, 1497, and October -15th, 1499, he recognized the coasts of Surinam and of Paria, at the mouth -of the Orinoco. In the second, dated from May 6th, 1499, to September 8th, -1500, he crossed the equator and saw Cape St. Augustine off Brazil; and -from there sailed north to Paria and Hispaniola. The dates of these two -expeditions contradict each other; for, according to them, his second -voyage must have begun five months before the first ended. Moreover, the -date 1497 for the beginning of the first voyage is inadmissible. The -registers of the Spanish administration (La Casa de Contratacion at -Seville) prove that, from April, 1497, to May, 1498, Americus Vespucius was -detained at Seville and San Lucar, occupied with preparations for the third -voyage of Christopher Columbus. [Footnote 189] - - [Footnote 189: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. pp. 267, 268. This third voyage - took place from May 30th. 1498, to November 25th, 1500.] - -For this reason the Florentine has been accused of fabricating this -pretended voyage by disguising a few incidents drawn from the second; and -of having antedated his departure from Spain, in order at one stroke to -earn the credit of first touching terra firma at Paria, and deprive -Christopher Columbus of that honor. We shall discuss this question later. - -It is a singular fact that, without attributing to himself any share in the -command, and even while distinctly stating that he was there under orders -"to aid in making discoveries," [Footnote 190] he does not name the chiefs -under whose authority he was placed. - - [Footnote 190: M. Von Humboldt supposes him to have been the astronomer - of the expedition. Crit. Exam, vol. iv. p. 189, and following. In - several instances the other mariners failed to mention the name of - their captains.] - -But, in spite of this reticence, we gather from the deposition of Alonzo de -Hojeda in the lawsuit brought against the crown by the son of Columbus in -1508, that Vespucius served on the squadron of Hojeda. [Footnote 191] - - [Footnote 191: He states that on this voyage (May 20th, 1499, to June, - 1500) he took with him Juan de la Cosa, pilot, Morigo Vespuche, and - other pilots. (Crit. Ex; vol. iv. p. 188.)] - -A comparison between the narratives left by both leads to the conclusion -that the first voyage of Americus, so inaccurately dated, must be -identified with that of Alonzo. [Footnote 192] - - [Footnote 192: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. pp. 195-200.] - -But, instead of accompanying the latter during the entire expedition, -Vespucius, after exploring the coast of Paria with him, left him at -Hispaniola at the end five months. Then, having been absent only from May -5th to October 15th, 1499, he must have returned to Spain in time to embark -in the December of that year with the expedition Vicente Yanez Pinzon. -[Footnote 193] - - [Footnote 193: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 290.] - -This expedition, which ended in September, 1500 agrees in a host of details -with the second voyage of Vespucius. [Footnote 194] - - [Footnote 194: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. pp. 293-316; vol. v. pp. 61-69, - 212-213. M. Von Humboldt shows that the circumstances of each of the - two first voyages of Vespucius bear too distinctive a character to - render admissible the idea that they were but one voyage, that is, the - voyage which the Florentine is accused of calling the second, while its - elements, divided by him with more or less art, furnished fallaciously - the material for a first supposed voyage, bearing the false date of - 1497. The first voyage was confined entirely in the northern - hemisphere, the second extended to southern regions.] - -{613} - -These enterprises aroused the attention of the King of Portugal, Emmanuel -le Fortune, in whose service our traveller let himself be enrolled. He -joined a squadron (May, 1501, to Sept. 1501) sent to reconnoitre the land -of Santa Cruz, or Brazil, discovered April 22d, 1500, by the Portuguese -Admiral Alvarez Cabral, who, while on his way to the Cape of Good Hope and -the East-Indies, had been dragged westward by winds and currents. In this -voyage Americus Vespucius passed the equator by a distance which he values -at 52°. On this he boasts of having traversed one fourth of the world (40° -lat. north of Lisbon to the equator 50° lat. south; total 90°, or the -quarter of a meridian.) He gives a brilliant description of the -inhabitants, of natural features in that region, and of southern -constellations. The leader of this expedition is not known. One remarkable -fact, the encounter at Cape Verd with the vessels of Alvarez Cabral, -returning from Malabar to Lisbon, and the details which Vespucius received -from a member of that expedition concerning the admiral's adventures in the -Indies, and transmitted to Pierfrancesco de' Medici, [Footnote 195] prove -the habitual veracity of the Florentine navigator, confirmed and attested -in this instance by Portuguese documents. [Footnote 196] - - [Footnote 195: Letter dated at Cape Verd, June 4th, 1501.] - - [Footnote 196: Crit. Exam. vol. v. pp. 69-107 and 213-215.] - -The fourth voyage, (June, 1503, to June, 1504,) made probably under the -direction of Gonzalo Coelho, had an object which Americus extols beforehand -without clearly explaining it: "I shall do many things," he writes to -Medicis, "for the glory of God, the good of my country, and the perpetual -commemoration of my name." It appears that the king of Portugal wished to -discover a passage to the Indies further south than Brazil; and, if it be -true that Vespucius had already penetrated to the fiftieth degree of -southern latitude, he must have just missed giving his name to the straits, -whose discovery twenty years later immortalized Magellan. But results -disappointed these cherished hopes and anticipations. The incapacity of the -commander-in-chief, whose name the narrator conceals while roundly abusing -his presumption and folly, rendered it disastrous. - -Emmanuel, occupied at that period with grand projects of conquest in -Oriental India, abandoned all attempts directed to the West. Vespucius on -his side, disgusted with the barren service of Portugal, lent ear to King -Ferdinand's solicitations, and, with a facile change of patron not without -precedent among his contemporaries, returned to Castile. We find him -leaving Seville for Valladolid, where the court was assembled, bearing an -introduction to Diego, son of Christopher Columbus, from the admiral -himself. Columbus recommends him (February 5th, 1505) as a man "to whom -fortune has been adverse, and who has not enjoyed the legitimate fruit of -his labors." - -He received a commission to equip a squadron destined to seek a western -route to the "land of spices." But after two years of preparation, -Ferdinand, wearied with dissensions with his son-in-law Philippe le Beau, -abandoned the design. At all events, on the 2d of March, 1508, he appointed -Americus Vespucius to be pilot-in-chief (_piloto mayor_) at Seville, -with a salary of fifty thousand maravedis, with these duties: first, to -make sure that the pilots understood the use of astrolabe and quadrant; -second, to make out a table of positions, to bear the name of _Padron -real,_ and serve the sole purpose of fixing maritime routes; third, to -oblige pilots after each voyage to explain, in the presence of the officers -of _La Casa de Contratacion_ and of the _piloto mayor_, the exact -position of the newly discovered lands, and also any corrections in the -bearings of coasts, in order that all necessary changes might be recorded -in the _Padron real_.[Footnote 197] - - [Footnote 197: Crit. Exam. vol. v. pp. 167, 168.] - -It was while filling this eminent position that Americus Vespucius died at -Seville, on the 22d of February, 1512, aged sixty-one years, without having -made another voyage. - -{614} - - II. - -Thus lived Americus Vespucius, joining actively and honorably for the last -twenty years of his life in the gigantic labors by which the mariners of -Castile and Portugal wrenched one by one her secrets from the sea. - -Valued and sought by kings as well as by the most illustrious men, a little -vain himself, proud of the early education that had raised him above the -generality of navigators, with a mind rather commonplace than brilliant, -nowhere does he give evidence in his narratives of a dishonest leaning -toward usurpation; nor does a single act accuse him of such desires. - -And yet usurpation there was. Let us discover its source and the manner of -its consummation. - -The Italian friends with whom Americus was in correspondence probably took -upon themselves to publish his letters. The first one put in print was the -letter to Pierfrancesco de' Medici, containing an account of his third -voyage. Rich in curious details, and in vivid pictures of habits and -manners, this little work was the more striking to imaginations already -overwrought, that the narrator's explorations had embraced vast coast -regions of southern latitudes. [Footnote 198] - - [Footnote 198: The fact that these discoveries of Americus had taken - place in southern regions added to their interest. Many persons still - persisted in the error of ancient cosmography, that the two temperate - zones, north and south of the equator, were alone habitable, and could - never hold communication with each other because of the burning - atmosphere of the torrid zone. We find a ludicrous and remarkable - specimen of this blind spirit of conservatism in a certain Zachariah - Sillus, who writes at Paris in 1515, that is to say, twenty-three years - after the first voyage of Christopher Columbus and seventeen years - after Vasco de Gama's expedition to the Indies: "Between the torrid - zone and the glacial zones, two zones only are habitable. By whom is - the one corresponding to our own inhabited? Macrobius affirms it; no - one has ever known, no one ever will know. For the torrid zone placed - between them interdicts all intercourse between the men of these two - regions. The superior zone, then, only is inhabited, I mean the one - lying between the northern and equatorial regions." (Bibliothèque - Magazine, No. 16169.) Others understood no better the antipodes, the - men of the opposite hemisphere standing head downward. The voyages of - Vespucius contributed largely toward the solution of these problems.] - -The first publication of this third voyage appears to have been made in -Italy. The Latin language served it for a passport beyond the Alps, and -furnished the type for numerous French and German translations. The first -Latin edition known is without date, and bears the name of the publisher -Lambert, in Paris. Afterward came those of Otmar, in Augsburg, 1504, -published previously under the title of _Mundus Nova_, an expression -used by Americus himself; and those of Strasburg, published by Hupfuff, in -1505; those of Leipzig, 1506. - -Soon the Italians with their _génie d'ensemble_ gather together into -ever-increasing collections various narratives published separately. First -appeared the "Book of all the Expeditions of the King of Spain among the -newly discovered Islands and Mainlands," (printed in Venice, 1504, in -quarto,) by Albertine Vercellese di Lisona. This collection comprises only -the first three voyages of Christopher Columbus, with those of Pietro -Alonzo, and of Pinzon. Three years later, the great collection of Vicenzo -absorbs all these, adding to the voyages made by Spaniards those made by -the Portuguese, and placing _en vedette_, as we say nowadays, the name -of Americus Vespucius: _Mondo Novo e Paesi Nuovamente ritrovati da -Alberico Vespuxio, Florentine_, 1507. The author, who writes -anonymously, was Alessandro Zorzi. - -This book was also translated into Latin at Milan, 1508; into German by -Jobst Ruchamer, of Nuremberg, 1508; and into French, by Mathurin du -Redouer, of Paris, without date. Of the French version, several editions -followed each other in rapid succession about the year 1516. - -Thus popularity became rapidly attached to the name of Americus Vespucius. -These collections, disseminated through the learned nations of Europe, gave -the Florentine the fame of having traversed a greater extent of newly -discovered country than any other man, and predisposed public opinion to -give him all the credit of the essential discovery. - -{615} - -But the decisive influence came from a remote corner of the Vosges. - -René II., Duke of Lorraine, the old school companion of Vespucius, shared, -as has been already said, the elevated tastes natural to princes of the -Renaissance. He followed with attentive eye the explorations of navigators, -and favored the progress of geographical science. - -Americus Vespucius addressed to him, as we know, from Lisbon, in 1504, an -account or rather an abstract of his four voyages. - -There lived in those days in Lorraine, in the little town of Saint Dié, a -learned bookseller, a native of Fribourg-en-Brisgau, and an ancient student -in the university of that town. Following a custom of the time, he had, by -a Greek transformation, translated his name from Martin Waldsee Muller to -Martinus Hylacomylus. [Footnote 199] He prepared an edition of Ptolemaeus. -The mathematician of Alexandria, the last exponent of geographical -knowledge and of cosmography among the ancients, had been successively the -oracle of the immovable middle ages and of the invincible pioneers who -opened the modern era. The world was never weary of making reprints of his -writings, adding in a supplement what antiquity had not known of our globe, -or as the saying went, of lands outside Ptolemaeus, (_regiones extra -Ptolemaeum._) - - [Footnote 199: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 99 and following. See the - positive and sagacious researches which led M. Von Humboldt to discover - the true name of Hylacomylus. The passage is of great interest, not - only on account of the problem whose solution it presents, but as - showing with what persevering ardor the illustrious author devoted - himself to the elucidation of the truth.] - -But before entering upon his great work, Hylacomylus published an -introduction to the cosmography, and as an addition precious as it was -novel, enriched it with the four voyages of Americus Vespucius, under this -title "Cosmographiae introductio cum qui busdam geometriae ac astronomiae -principlis ad eam rem necessariis. Insuper quatuor Americi Vespucii -navigationes." He wrote anonymously, revealing his name only with the -second edition in 1509. - -From whom did he obtain these four voyages, never before printed? No doubt -from the Duke of Lorraine. But he is silent upon that point, limiting -himself to the information that they had been translated from Italian into -French and from French into Latin. - -Here and there in the nine chapters that compose his work Hylacomylus -alludes to the discoveries of Americus Vespucius, extolling their extent -and their scientific importance. "The torrid zone," he says, "is habitable -and inhabited. The Golden Chersonesus and Taprobane contain many human -beings, as well as a very considerable portion of the country entirely -unknown until lately, when it was discovered by Americus Vespucius." - -Further on, in a more decided manner, after mentioning the seven climates -described by Ptolemaeus, and named after several remarkable towns, -mountains, or rivers of the northern hemisphere, Hylacomylus opposes to -them six others recently recognized in the southern hemisphere. The names -of the first five repeat those of the north in symmetrical opposition. -[Footnote 200] In the sixth, toward the antarctic region and the extremity -of Africa, he places Zanzibar, discovered shortly before, the islands of -Java Minor, (Sumatra,) Seula, (Ceylon,) with the fourth part of the world; -"and this quarter, since Americus discovered it, we may be allowed to call -the land of Americus, or America." - - [Footnote 200: "Pari modo dicendum est de eis quae sunt ultra - sequinoctialem ad austrum quorum sex contraria nomina habentia sunt - lustrata: et dici possunt antidia Meroes, antidia Alexandrias, antidia - Rhodon, antidia Rhomes, (sic,) antidia Borischener, (sic,) a graeca - particula antiquae oppositum vel contra denotat."-Ch. vii.] - -Finally, and it is here that this obscure author decides the question for -future ages, he enumerates the countries comprised in Europe, Asia, and -Africa. -{616} -He reminds us that Europe and Asia are the names of two queens, and -continues: "Now these three portions have been explored to their utmost -limits; and another, a fourth, has been discovered by Americus Vespucius, -(as we shall see later.) Now I see no grounds upon which opposition can be -made to naming it America, or the land of Americus, after its discoverer, -Americus, a man of sagacious genius, since Europe and Asia owe their names -to women." - -Two series of distichs precede and announce the four navigations. We -mention them merely for the characteristic enthusiasm that they exhale in -honor of the fortunate mariner. He alone who sang the maritime adventures -of the Trojan hero, says the poet in closing his verses, could worthily -celebrate this theme. [Footnote 201] - - [Footnote 201: The poetical part of the Cosmographiae Introductio is by - Philesius, (Ringmann,) a friend of the editor.] - -This, then, was the baptism of the new-born world. It was in one of the -humblest cities of Lorraine that an unknown bookseller bade Europe and Asia -hold it with him over the font, inscribing it in the classic family by a -name thenceforth imperishable. - - - III. - -This name became quickly famous in the Old World. Its birth in Lorraine was -an advantage in the beginning. This country was fortunately placed for -facilities of intercourse between France and Germany, very near the Rhine, -along whose banks were crowded so many famous towns from Bâle to Rotterdam, -and close to Strasburg, that centre of powerful radiation. - -From the presses of Grieninger, or Gruninger, issued, in 1509, the second -edition of the Cosmography, bearing this time the author's name affixed to -the dedication. Piquant selections were made from the four voyages of -Americus, and many persons, allured by its success, falsely claimed the -paternity of the book. [Footnote 202] Long after the death of Hylacomylus -his work was destined to be reprinted at Venice in 1535 and in 1554. The -suffrage of Italy served not a little the popularity of the navigator and -the name of America. - - [Footnote 202: Hylacomylus complains of this in a letter to Philesius, - dated 1509.] - -Everywhere an irresistible and universal concurrence enhanced the renown of -Americus Vespucius, as wave after wave bears its tribute to the rising -tide. From the time of the appearance of that first edition, (1507,) maps -and globes were printed in Strasburg and sold at low prices, bearing -indication of the discoveries of Americus Vespucius, with his name. -[Footnote 203] - - [Footnote 203: Crit. Exam, vol iv. pp. 140-142. Letters of the - Benedictine Trithemius, Aug. 12th, 1507. Humboldt shows that this - letter is often dated incorrectly 1510. Trithemius makes Vespucius a - Spaniard.] - -In 1509, the same year when the second edition of Hylacomylus appeared, an -anonymous _opvscule_, another product of John Grieninger's active -press, called, "Globus mundi declaratio, sive descriptio mundi et totius -orbis terrarum," sanctions the proposition of the scholar of Saint-Dié. -This is the first geographical treatise in which the name of America takes -undisputed possession as the designation of the New World. The phraseology -in which it is couched is fantastic, and, independently of its -significance, merits a moment's attention. - -"Doctors," saith the cosmography "compare our earth to the human frame as -possessing all the parts contained in a body. First, the flesh is the earth -itself; blood corresponds to water, bones to stones, veins to mountains. -The head is the East, or Asia; the feet are the West and America lately -discovered. Africa is the right arm, and our own continent of Europe the -left." - -Science in her first essays was sometimes satisfied with very naive -puerilities, and young America was received under strange auspices. But at -that time, perhaps, this was an advantage. The author of the Globus shows -himself more rational while undertaking to demonstrate clearly, even to -persons of small education, the existence of antipodes whose feet are -opposed ours; and the possibility of life in any portion of the globe, -because the sun shines upon all parts of the earth--problems that disturbed -many minds. - -{617} - -Nevertheless, great as is his admiration for Americus Vespucius, and for -"the fourth part of the world by him discovered, that island larger than -Europe whose shores develop westward with relation to Europe and Africa," -the geographer of Strasburg does not inscribe the name of America on his -map. He is content with the appellation of the _New World_. [Footnote -204] Pierre Apier, in 1520, was the first to enroll the name of America on -a map of the world added to an edition of Solinus. [Footnote 205] - - [Footnote 204: Newe Welt. The indications on this map of the Globus are - in German.] - - [Footnote 205: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 255; vol. v. pp. 174, 188.] - -Then comes the author who, adding practice to precept, should have -anticipated others--we mean Hylacomylus. - -His ambition, like that of every cosmographer, was to re-edit the -mathematician of Alexandria. The magnificent bounty of René II. furnished -the funds for the preparatory labors and provided for the engraving of -maps. But death interrupted the work in 1508 by snatching away its noble -patron. [Footnote 206] - - [Footnote 206: We find in a treatise of 1511, composed of a tract chart - of Europe by Hylacomylus, with a description of the same continent by - his friend Philesius, an interesting tribute to the memory of René II. - Hylacomylus dedicates this map, of which he is very proud, to Duke - Antony, René's son and successor. He observes that the late duke was - "the first among the first of princes to favor the liberal arts, full - of the love of letters and of lettered men. We ourselves remember the - indulgent ear, the smiling countenance, and the good grace with which - he received the general description of the globe, and other monuments - of our literary labors offered by us to him." This book (Biblio. - Magazine, No. 16169) is entitled: Instructio manuductionem praestans in - cartam itinerariam Martini Hilacomile, cum luculentiori ipsius Europae - enarratione à Ringmanno Philesio conscripta. Strasbourg Imprimerie - Grieninger, April, 1511.] - -In the language of the editors, two ecclesiastical dignitaries of -Strasburg, it was aroused from its sleep among the rocks of the Vosges only -after six years of neglect. It was published at Strasburg in the year 1513, -under the superintendence of Philesius. The maps do not present the name of -Americus, nor the body of the work that of Hylacomylus. But, following -those belonging to the geography proper of Ptolemaeus, there is a rich -supplementary atlas, which represents the geographical state of the world -in the sixteenth century, and offers us two very curious maps; a map of the -world, entitled "Orbis typus universalis juxta hydrographorum traditionem," -with the profile of the western mainland and several islands of the -Antilles and a special map of discoveries, Tabula Terre Nove, loaded with -names that mount in a grand scale up to the fortieth degree of south -latitude. This place is eminently suited to introduce the name of America, -[Footnote 207] but we seek it in vain. It was destined to appear in a -posthumous work of the bookseller of Saint-Dié. - - [Footnote 207: On the contrary, we find this inscription: _Haec terra - cum adjacentibua insulis inventa est per Columbum Januensem ex mandate - Regis Castellae._ Elsewhere the preface of the supplement contains - this singular phrase _à propos_ of the map of the world: "Charta - autem marina quam hydrographiam vocant per admiralem quondam - serenissimum _Portugaliae regis Ferdinandi_ caeteros denique - lustratores verissimis peragrationibus lustrata." (Folio, Imperial - Lib., G. 10.) How place Ferdinand on the Portuguese throne then - occupied by Emmanuel? Who is this admiral? Remark that the names of - locality on the second map are Spanish. This extraordinary confusion of - names of kings will serve to explain other errors in after times.] - -In 1522, Laurentius Phrisius, who must not be confounded with Philesius, -published a new edition of Ptolemaeus at John Grieninger's in Strasburg. -Hylacomylus was dead; but how could they do better than employ the maps -prepared by him in his lifetime? "That we may not seem," says Phrisius to -the reader, "to arrogate to ourselves another's merit, know that these maps -have been lately prepared by Martin Hylacomylus, dead in Christ, and -reduced to dimensions smaller than their first form. If they are good, to -him then, and not to us, peace and place among the celestial hierarchy, in -the bosom of him who separated the edifice of this world by spaces so -marvellous. For the remainder that follows, know that it is our own work." -[Footnote 208] - - [Footnote 208: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 116.] - -Now, upon this map of the world, which is the work of Hylacomylus, and, is -entitled as in the Ptolemaeus of 1513, "Orbis typus universalis juxta -hydrographorum traditionem," is displayed the name of America. -{618} -And what a triumphant commentary upon it is given in the preface written by -Thomas Aucuparius! "Not less worthy of panegyric are those who, since the -days of Ptolemaeus, have succeeded by an incredible effort of genius in -exploring new countries and islands. And in the first rank among them, and -deserving an extraordinary fame, stands Americus Vespucius, the illustrious -and eminent man who discovered and explored and was the first guest of the -land of America, called to-day America, or the New World, or the fourth -part of the world; as well as of other new islands adjacent to it or lying -at no great distance." - -This enthusiasm was not free from confusion. The _savans_ on the -borders of the Rhine received by repercussion the echoed reports of these -wonderful Portuguese and Spanish discoveries, without distinguishing quite -clearly the name and extent of each one. For instance, this Ptolemaeus of -1522 repeats the map of 1513, with the indication that the continent in -question with its neighboring islands was discovered by the Genoese -Columbus under orders of the King of Castile. [Footnote 209] - - [Footnote 209: We have not been fortunate enough to find the Ptolemaeus - of 1522. But there exists in the Bibliothèque Sainte Geneviève (G. 8) - an edition of 1525, made by Bilinald Pirckeymer, at Grieninger, in - Strasburg. The atlas, in the second part of the volume, evidently - repeats in a smaller form that of 1513. The maps are identical. Now, - the last Orbis typus universalis juxta hydrographorum traditionem - exactissime depicta bears, with the sacramental date of 1522, the name - of America upon the great tract of country in the south-western part of - the Western ocean. This, then, is the first document. After the date - come the initials L. P. (Laurentius Frisius. Frisius, another form of - Phrisius.)] - -The same legend, under date of 1497, adjoining the words America provincia, -on Apian's map, appears in the edition of Pomponius Mela, by Vadianus, -(Joacquin de Watt,) Bâle, 1522. Yet the first pages in the book reproduce a -letter from Vadianus to a friend, concerning the discovery of America by -Vespucius, and the remarkable proficiency in mathematics of this navigator. -The editor does not remark that the name of America upon the map is in -contradiction with that of Columbus in the legend, or that elsewhere he -attaches erroneously to the third voyage of Columbus, during which the -great navigator touched Paria, the pretended date (1497) of the discovery -of Americus Vespucius. [Footnote 210] - - [Footnote 210: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 144. Columbus discovered the - terra firma of the delta of the Orinoco, (Isla Santa,) August 1st, - 1498. The third voyage lasted from May 30th, 1498, to November 25th, - 1500.] - -This discrepancy among Rhenish geographers was not of long duration. - -Simon Grynaeus, author of a collection of voyages, (Orbis Novus, Bâle, -March, 1532,) in which he inserts the four voyages of Americus Vespucius -and only the first of Columbus, does not hesitate in deciding their -respective importance; witness the following words in a little treatise by -Sebastian Munster, placed at the head of the collection: "There has been -discovered in our own day in the Western ocean, by Americus Vespucius and -Christopher Columbus, what one may call a new world, and very correctly the -fourth part of the globe, so that our earth no longer consists of three -parts, but of four; because these Indian islands surpass Europe in size, -especially the one which takes its name of America from Americus, who -discovered it." The same Munster writes in his Cosmography: "What shall I -say of these great islands America, of Paria, Cuba, Hispaniola, Yucatan?" -And again, upon a map giving the southern part of the New World: "Atlantic -Island, called Brazil and America." - -The collection of Grynaeus was reprinted in Paris about the month of -November, 1532, and several times afterward. - -Apian and Phrisius, the same who worked upon the Ptolemaeus of 1522, say in -their Cosmography: "America takes its name from Americus Vespucius, who -discovered it: others call it Brazil. Is it a continent or an island? We do -not yet know." Of Columbus not one word. - -These references to Christopher Columbus, evoked _à contretemps_, are -only exceptions of ever lessening frequency. -{619} -The name of America in a few years had taken possession of maps and of -science, and passed into a brilliant and resonant notoriety with the -public. The erudite, those who controlled the printing press, and those -who, in the centre of Europe, formed opinions almost uninfluenced by Spain, -and whose admiration, more or less enlightened, created fame, were fairly -dazzled by Americus Vespucius. Columbus, after being faintly discerned from -time to time, at last disappeared, and was lost like a satellite in the -nimbus of a principal star planet. No doubt he could lay claim to a few -islands; but he who, unveiling the vast expanse of southern shores, had -discovered a new world, was beyond dispute Americus Vespucius, the noble, -the illustrious traveller _par excellence_--egregius et nobilissimus -inventor, visitator et primus hospes. - - - IV. - -But why this silence respecting Christopher Columbus? Whence this apparent -conspiracy against a man who in our own day rears himself like a giant -above all those who navigated the route opened by his genius? Where shall -we seek the cause of the ingratitude no longer peculiar of Spain, but -attributable to all Europe, that pains our hearts? - -The truth must be told: he himself was one of its principal causes. - -The illustrious Genoese never courted publicity. The only papers printed -during his life, concerning his discoveries, were his first voyage, taken -from his letter of March 14th, 1493, to the treasurer Sanchez; and his -fourth, an account of which he addressed to the kings in a letter from -Jamaica, (July 7th, 1503;) [Footnote 211] the one in Latin at Rome, (1493,) -the other at Venice, translated into Italian, (1505.) The title of -_Lettera rarissima_ by which this last document is designated, shows -plainly that it was not for general distribution. Of the writings of -Columbus these are all that were published up to the close of the -eighteenth century. [Footnote 212] - - [Footnote 211: First voyage from August 3d, 1492, to March 15, 1493: - discovery of the Bahama islands, and of Hayti. Fourth voyage from May - 11th, 1502, to November 7th, 1504; discovery of the coast of the - continent from Honduras to Puerto de Mosquitos, at the end of the - Isthmus of Panama. First notion of the existence of another sea to the - west.] - - [Footnote 212: Crit. Exam. vol. ii. p. 330; vol. iv. p. 72 and note.] - -This great man thought it for his interest to keep the secret, if not of -his discoveries, at least of the route he had followed. As his treaty of -Santa Fé with Isabella and Ferdinand secured to him the government and a -part of the fruits of the lands discovered by him, he had not cared to -provoke or facilitate competition. Indeed we have two letters from -Isabella, (September 5th, 1493, and August 16th, 1494,) reproaching him for -leaving the degrees of latitude blank, and asking for a complete chart of -the islands with their names and distances. [Footnote 213] He became still -less communicative after the crown of Castile violated its engagements with -him, (1495,) and when his enemy Fonseca gave up his charts to the navigator -Hojeda. They had reduced him, he said, to the position of a man who opens -the door for others to pass through. Silence may, then, have seemed to him -a means of defending his legitimate possessions, or, at least, of -diminishing the force of attacks upon his just rights. - - [Footnote 213: Crit. Exam. vol. iii. p. 340. We hear of a chart given - at Rome, in 1505, by Bartholemew Columbus, the admiral's brother, to a - canon of St. John of Lateran, and given by him to Alessandro Zozi, - author of the collection of 1507. Its fate is unknown. Crit. Exam. vol. - iv. p. 80, note. This does not look like publicity.] - -Besides, though his discovery anticipated by six years the arrival of the -Portuguese in the East-Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, it was eclipsed by -the brilliant voyages of Vasco de Gama and Alvares Cabral, followed as they -were by immediate results. What were Spaniards and Portuguese in search of? -The Indies, the empire of Cathay, or of China, those regions depicted by -antiquity and by the travellers of the middle ages as gorged with precious -metals, with pearls and diamonds, with spices and glittering tissues. -{620} -Now, the Portuguese had been wafted to the very source of these treasures. -In the earliest years of the sixteenth century, their fleets returned laden -with spoils from kingdoms of sonorous names, rendered famous by the songs -or by the ambition of the poets and conquerors of classic antiquity. All -this time the Spaniards, following the steps of Christopher Columbus, were -groping in the western seas among remote regions supposed by them to belong -to extreme Asia, finding only savage tribes where they had looked for -imposing monarchies. They had picked up a few pearls, a little gold, and -some slaves, and had returned to Europe, unable to conceal from themselves -the fact that their rivals of Lisbon owed more to Vasco de Gama than -Castile to Christopher Columbus. - -If, then, in the eyes of history, the glory of the immortal Genoese lies in -having sought with a reflective and discerning boldness, and discovered -more than he sought, namely, an unknown world independent of all other -lands, at a time when the only aim in view was to open a western route to -the "land of spices," in the beginning his voyage looked like a half -successful enterprise. Was the talk of discoveries, properly speaking? What -were a small number of islands compared with that southern country coasted -by Americus to the fiftieth degree of south latitude without finding its -termination? - -The discovery of the Southern sea by Balboa at the Isthmus of Panama, -(1513,) the extraordinary conquests of Mexico and Peru, the adventures of a -Cortez and of a Pizarro, chilled yet more the public opinion toward him -whose works, considered then so humble, had given the impetus to these -prodigious enterprises. - -A little while yet, and he was considered a simpleton for believing that -his navigation from east to west had brought him to Asia, and for having -found what he did not seek. John Beller, in reprinting at Anvers (1584) the -Cosmography of Apian and Frisius, adds a description of the Indies, drawn -from the Cosmography of Jerome Girava, of Tarragona. The latter, _à -propos_ of Cuba, explains that under the name of Indies are comprehended -all the lands recently discovered. "This name," he says, "comes from the -fact that the Genoese, Christopher Columbus, a distinguished mariner and a -poor cosmographer, [Footnote 214] having obtained in 1492 the favor and aid -of Ferdinand the Catholic and of Isabella to go in search of regions until -then unseen and unknown, called them the Indies. After making the -discovery, he returned in the same year, saying that he had found the -Indies. Therefore have these lands retained the name." - - [Footnote 214: Naucierus insignia ac mediocriter cosmographia peritus, - p. 167, Biblioth Magazine, 15824.] - -Thus did Christopher Columbus lose ground so materially in the admiration -of his contemporaries that his end was obscure and almost overlooked. Peter -Martyr of Anghiera, who is called his friend, but hardly seems to have -merited the title, for two months and a half saw him upon the bed of pain -to which the last great crisis nailed him at Valladolid. He does not speak -of this illness in his letters, nor of his death which took place May 20th, -1506, short time after his own departure. His Oceanic Decades mention it -incidentally several years later.[Footnote 215] - - [Footnote 215: It was between the years 1510 and 1514 that Pierre - Martyr thought proper to remember the great man's death.] - -Why wonder, then, that the editors of Vicenzo's collection in 1507, and the -translator of this collection into Latin in 1508, inform us that at the -moment they write the admiral and his brother are living honorably in the -splendid court of Castile? Grynaeus in 1532 speaks in the same terms in his -Orbis Novus. [Footnote 216] So had fame abandoned the life and the grave of -Christopher Columbus. - - [Footnote 216: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. pp. 24, 124.] - -{621} - - V. - -So far we have traced the principal features of the nautical career of -Americus Vespucius. Still following the light of Humboldt's brilliant -researches, we have found in the bookstore of Saint-Dié, the inventor of -the name of America; we have shown how and at what period this appellation -passed from the _Introduction of the Cosmography_ on to maps and into -public use; and how motives personal to Christopher Columbus, and the -astounding exploits of Portuguese or Spanish conquerors, threw into the -shade the services and genius of the most daring mariner the world has ever -seen. - -We have shown that a strong current of public opinion, self-formed in a -certain sense, had developed, without leaving room to suppose or suspect -any culpable participation in Americus Vespucius. Strictly speaking, this -should absolve us from all obligation to justify him further from the -reproach of usurpation. Yet it is our intention to conclude with a review -of that side of the question. - -To begin with, there exists no proof or presumption that he had any hand in -the publication of his voyage. The work contains details such as he would -certainly not have consigned to a writing intended for the public; as, for -example, when speaking of the second voyage, he complains, in a letter to -Soderini, that the Queen Isabella had taken from him a shell to which were -found attached one hundred and thirty pearls. "After that," he continues: -"I took good care how I showed her such precious things." - -Does not he himself tell us that he has in reserve the project of -publishing a complete and extended narrative, the object of his assiduous -cares, and the hope of his future glory? So scrupulously, it appears, he -observed Horace's precept, (nonumque prematur in annum,) that death -surprised him while still hesitating to bring it to the light. Its destiny -is unknown. - -Living and writing at Seville, in the very centre of the excitement of -discoveries, among a crowd of seafaring men who had seen, accompanied, or -talked with Christopher Columbus, whom he survived only six years, how can -we suppose that he could conceive the plan of attributing to himself an -honor known by all to belong to the admiral? And if he had dared to do so, -how could he with impunity have attempted it before such judges, without -calling forth a cry of indignation that should resound to the furthest -extremities of Europe? - -It is said that he gave to his first voyage, which really dates from May -20th, 1499, the fraudulent date of May 20th, 1497, in order to rob Columbus -of priority in the discovery of terra firma. [Footnote 217] But in that -case, would he not have adjusted his dates more adroitly? Would he have -committed the gross blunder of assigning the end of this voyage to October -15th, 1499, mentioning directly afterward that he began the second in May, -1499, [Footnote 218] that is to say, five months before his return from the -first? What answer could he have made to those who had the registers of La -Casa de Contratacion in hand, [Footnote 219] and, armed with universal -testimony, would have told him that, pending the pretended duration of this -first expedition, all Seville and Cadiz had seen him occupied with -preparations for the third voyage of Columbus, who set sail May 30th. 1498. - - [Footnote 217: Remember that Columbus touched terra firma at the delta - of the Orinoco, August 1st, 1498.] - - [Footnote 218: The edition of Hylacomylus bears date 1489, a printer's - error.] - - [Footnote 219: These registers bear their testimony at the present day. - We had occasion to refer to them in the first part of this article.] - -Moreover, these errors in dates were extremely common at the commencement -of the sixteenth century. Education was incomplete. The means of -verification were hard to obtain concerning expeditions that crossed each -other in every sense. Thus, in the eighteen years following Vasco de Gama's -expedition, the king of Portugal sent no less than 294 vessels to India and -to the land of the Holy Cross, (Brazil.) The fourteen expeditions that -sailed from Spanish ports between 1496 and 1509, though less numerous, -followed each other as closely, and were no less difficult to disentangle. - -{622} - -The hurry of copying and of printing multiplied errors. - -The different editions of the voyages of Vespucius are full of -contradictions in dates, a confusion that seems to exclude all reasonable -suspicion of intentional falsification. [Footnote 220] Christopher -Columbus erred as to the duration of the two passages of his first -expedition, and that at the very moment, when toward its close, he -approached the shores of Europe. [Footnote 221] The most exact and -attentive historians err constantly as to well-authenticated facts, as, for -instance, Orviédo, the official historian of the Indies, in asserting as a -notorious fact that Columbus discovered the Indies in 1491. [Footnote 222] - - [Footnote 220: Crit. Exam. vol. v. p. 111.] - - [Footnote 221: Ibid. vol. v. p. 201.] - - [Footnote 222: Instead of 1492. M. Humboldt cites many similar errors.] - -Not daring to misrepresent the facts in Andalusia, did Americus induce the -editors in Lorraine to tell falsehoods at a distance, acting in his stead? -Or, to speak more correctly, did he get them to decree to him the honors of -the discovery, and suggest to them the name of America? We have absolutely -no ground for the supposition. Nowhere do the numerous publications taking -their origin from the Cosmography of Hylacomylus allude to any relation -direct or indirect with the Florentine. If the maps of the editions of -Ptolemaeus in 1513 and 1522, had resulted from interested suggestions on -the part of Americus Vespucius, we should not find upon them, in large -characters, the indication that the great southern country was discovered -by Christopher Columbus, the Genoese. This southern country would assuredly -have extended to that famous fiftieth degree of south latitude, of which -Americus was so proud, instead of ending somewhere about the fortieth -degree. The editors of 1513 would not have fallen into the singular blunder -of making Ferdinand the Catholic, king of Portugal. Some explanation would -be needed, too, of the impostor's having selected as an accomplice an -obscure scholar in a still more obscure town of Lorraine, (which an eminent -representative of the scientific world tried lately to locate in the depths -of Hungary,) [Footnote 223] where he had many Italian friends to whom he -would more naturally have addressed himself. And one might reasonably ask -why the good people of Saint-Dié and Strasburg (whom one cannot know -through their writings without conceiving a high opinion of their character -and of their devotion to science) could have participated so coolly in a -dishonest action, or even have entered hoodwinked into a snare spread for -their ingenuousness--a snare, too, of which no trace remains. - - [Footnote 223: Navarrete. Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 103.] - -To this accusation consisting of gratuitous and baseless assertions, there -is a crowd of real motives to be opposed. - -It is far more natural to admit, taking into consideration the extreme -difficulties of communication at that period, that the enthusiasm of -Hylacomylus and his Strasburg neighbors was spontaneous. Such is certainly -the character of the extracts we have presented to the reader. It is -extremely probable that Americus Vespucius never saw the Cosmography of -1507 or the Globus of 1509, and that he was to the end unconscious of the -dangerous honor bestowed upon him at Saint-Dié. As to the maps illustrated -with his name, they appeared in 1520 and 1522, eight and ten years after -his death. - -But for the tyranny of habit, which demands a response, point for point, to -charges once preferred against an individual, we should have suddenly -adopted a more radical system, and have declared not only that Americus -Vespucius did not entertain the vile and criminal intentions ascribed to -him with regard to Christopher Columbus, but that, at the stage of ideas -and of science existing in his day, he could not have conceived them. - -{623} - -In using the expression New World, or the fourth part of the world, we -attach to it the precise sense of the vast American continent. Our eyes -instinctively behold that colossal dike, which, stretching, so to speak, -from pole to pole, restrains and divides the two oceans facing easterly -toward Europe and Africa, and westerly toward Asia, but separated by -enormous distances from all three. - -We must set aside this preconceived idea, and return in thought to the -latter days of the fifteenth century. - -The ancients and the travellers of the middle ages prolonged Asia -indefinitely eastward; and when at last they set a term to that country by -India, the Mangi and Cathay, (China,) they continued it again by sowing in -handfuls through the neighboring seas innumerable archipelagoes. It was -while more especially acting upon the words of antiquity that Christopher -Columbus braved the awful solitudes of the Atlantic, and, bearing directly -westward, sought the Indies by another route than that used by the -Portuguese. When the unknown land, the prize of his divination, rose from -the bosom of the waters, the admiral never for an instant doubted that he -was about to plant the standard of Castile upon an Asiatic island. He took -Cuba for the very continent of Asia, _the end and the beginning of the -Indies_. "I have discovered," wrote he to Pope Alexander VI. (February, -1502,) "333 leagues of the terra firma of Asia." On his third voyage, the -spectacle of the immense flood of the Orinoco having suggested to him the -very rational idea that such a river must belong to a large country, he -made of it the India of the Ganges. In this conviction he lived and died. - -In the same way Americus Vespucius, during his second voyage, coasting -along the country destined to bear his name, fully believed himself to be -in Asia. He tried to find Cape Cattigara in the great gulf of Ptolemaeus; -[Footnote 224] and followed for 400 leagues a shore which was, he said, the -end of Asia, by the eastern side, and the commencement by the western side. -"This expedition has lasted thirteen months, during which we have run the -greatest risks, and discovered an infinite stretch of the land of Asia as -well as a number of islands." [Footnote 225] In passing over to the -Portuguese service afterward, it was with a hope of pursuing his -investigations, and of "finding the Island of Taprobana, (Ceylon,) situated -between the sea of the Indus and the sea of the Ganges." His fourth had for -its object the Molucca Islands, the land of spices, and Malacca. - - [Footnote 224: Sinus Magnus. Ptolemaeus took the Indian ocean for a - sea, bounded on the north by Asia, and on the south by Africa, the - latter continent widening from west to east, to form the southern - barrier of the Indian ocean.] - - [Footnote 225: "Discoprendo infinitissima terra de l'Asia e gran copia - d'isole."--Crit. Exam. vol. iv. p. 299 and note, et passim.] - -The conviction of these two men decided general opinion, as is attested by -the name of the Indies applied to the western lands. Both had passed away -before Balboa's march to the great ocean (1513) and Magellan's voyage -unsealed all eyes and dissipated the dreams of Ptolemaeus. - -Now, since it is an indisputable fact that Christopher Columbus and -Americus Vespucius never had an intuition of their veritable discovery, and -that for the rest of their lives both of them firmly believed that they had -reached the extreme end of the continent of Asia, how could the one have -planned to frustrate the other of the glory of having revealed a new world -whose existence they neither of them suspected? How could Vespucius -undertake to slip surreptitiously into history, and impose a contraband -name upon a continent that only seemed to him susceptible of bearing the -name of Asia? Moreover, what personal advantage could he hope to reap from -fraudulently dating his arrival at Paria during his first expedition, 1497, -when the discovery of Oriental Asia was looked upon as accomplished by -Christopher Columbus five years before? - -{624} - -Let us also take these expressions of _fourth part of the world_ and -_new world_ according to their original sense, and not with the -absolute signification attached to them at the present day. In the mouth of -Americus Vespucius, the former meant simply that he had passed over, -between Lisbon and the extreme point of his explorations, an arc of 90°, -whether the quarter of a grand circle or of the terrestrial circumference -from one pole to the other. As to the latter, it was quite natural that the -extraordinary and unexpected extent of the Asiatic lands, contemplated for -the first time, and the aspect of a nature of which nothing European could -give an idea, with inhabitants of a strange color and of cannibal habits; -it was quite natural, we repeat, that the navigator should exclaim that -before him lay a new world. - -Cosmographers in their turn were struck by the interminable succession of -shores, whose development south of the equator resolved, contrary to old -prejudices, the problems so long agitated concerning the torrid zone and -the second temperate zone, and the question whether or not the sun -enlightened the southern hemisphere in the same manner as the northern. -Such a theatre suddenly thrown open to geographic science appeared to them -worthy to rival Europe by its gigantic proportions, and to be accounted a -new part of the world. And yet it was not considered the New World, as we -understand it, until the time when, explorations being completed, it was -known to have nothing in common with the continent or the archipelagoes of -Asia. If precaution had been taken to disengage this idea, the accusation -against Americus Vespucius would have died a natural death in the -beginning. - -But we are told that he abused his office of _piloto mayor_, and his -right of rectifying the maps by inserting his own name upon them. - -This assertion is not sustained by the shadow of a proof. Mariners were not -in the habit of giving their own names to the lands they discovered, -whether Americus Vespucius, Columbus, Balboa, or Magellan. Had he done so, -it would have had only the very restricted and allowable signification of a -name applied to one of the numerous islands near Asia that seemed to spring -from the sea on all sides to greet the eyes of navigators. The scholars of -Lorraine and Alsace had no other view in selecting for this destiny the -largest southern country. They treated as coequals in importance the great -island of America and the islands of Paria, Cuba, Hispaniola, and Yucatan. -[Footnote 226] Finally, the name of America, applied to the whole of the -New World, resulted from the mistake by which the island (Cuba) was taken -for the mainland, and the mainland (Paria) for the island. When with time -the first error was recognized, they extended to the whole the appellation -given to what had proved to be the principal part. - - [Footnote 226: Cosmography of Munster, quoted above.] - -For this Americus Vespucius could not have been responsible. He deserves, -then, to preserve in the estimation of posterity the esteem accorded to him -by all his contemporaries. He was loved and respected during his life, and -from this fact we shall in conclusion draw a new testimony. - - - VI. - -In the first place, Americus Vespucius possessed the friendship of -Christopher Columbus. At the commencement of our article we saw Vespucius -going to Toro, (where was assembled the court of Castile,) recommended by -the admiral to his son Diego. We give the letter entire: - -{625} - - SEVILLE, Feb. 5, 1505. - - "My Dear Son: Diego Mendez [Footnote 227] left here Monday, the 3d of - this month. Since his departure I have talked with Amerigo Vespuchy, who - is going to court, called thither by business concerning navigation. He - has always shown a desire to please me; and he is a very able man. - Fortune has shown herself adverse to him as to many others. His labors - have not proved so profitable to him as should have naturally been the - case. He is going to court in my behalf, and with an ardent desire of - effecting something useful to me, if occasion should offer. While in this - place I cannot specify in what way he can serve us, not knowing how they - stand affected toward him, but he is quite determined to do all in his - power for my good. You will see for yourself how you can best employ him, - for he will speak and set everything at work; I want it to be done - secretly, that nothing may be suspected. I told him everything I could - concerning our interests." [Footnote 228] - - [Footnote 227: A faithful servant of Columbus.] - - [Footnote 228: Crit. Exam. vol. iv. pp. 29,30, and Washington Irving, - vol. iv. App. No. 9.] - -He who expressed himself thus concerning Americus had known him not merely -a day or two, but for long years. - -But let us admit that he was the dupe of a consummate hypocrite. The -traitor was to be unmasked when death should relieve him of the obstacle -who had been a source of such insupportable impatience to him. Witnesses -there were, however, to denounce him. Let us hear them: - -Sebastian Cabot, a worthy rival of the most illustrious navigators of his -day, had been summoned from England to Spain about the year 1512, to -succeed Americus as corrector of geographic tables. Three years later he -took occasion to bear testimony to his expertness in the determination of -latitudes. - -Peter Martyr, whose hand falls willingly on all whom he suspects of -intrigue, whether correctly or incorrectly, has only words of praise for -Vespucius, _à propos_ of his knowledge of nautical astronomy and of -the art of navigation. - -Ramusio, who employed thirty-four years of his life (1523-1557) in -preparing and publishing his great collection of travels, and knew how to -wither with his indignation all who enviously cavilled at Columbus, -[Footnote 229] speaks five times in terms of high esteem, "of that high -intelligence, of the excellent Florentine endowed with such fair genius, -_il signor_ Amerigo Vespucio." - - [Footnote 229: Those who maintained that Columbus had stolen the - knowledge of the New World from a pilot who died in his house. Oviedo - echoed this calumnious report. (History of the West-Indies, 1535.)] - -But a discordant voice arose. Michel Servet, in re-editing the geography of -Ptolemaeus at Lyons (1535, 1541,) says severe things of Americus, but not -without making mistakes. "Columbus," he says, "discovered during a new -voyage the continent and many more islands, of which the Spaniards are now -completely masters. They then are totally misled who would call this -continent America, since Americus never touched it until long after -Columbus, and since he went there not with the Spaniards, but with the -Portuguese, and to make trade." - -Without pausing to notice details, we will confine ourselves to the -morality of Vespucius which the author does not attack. He only blames -those who invented the name of America. [Footnote 230] - - [Footnote 230: M. Von Humboldt, vol. iv. p. 137, note, corrects - Servet's inaccuracies. Vespucius made a voyage for Spain with Hojeda in - 1499. It was assuredly not in the character of a merchant, but probably - of an astronomer. A striking circumstance! this edition of 1535 - contains after all the map of 1522, bearing the name of Americus.] - -To this accusation, such as it is, the History of India, by Gomara, (1551,) -answered contemptuously: "There are persons who enjoy blackening Alberico -Vespucio's reputation, as may be seen by some editions of Ptolemaeus in -Lyons." - -Now, having seen the proofs drawn from those who have spoken, let us look -at the counter-proofs of those who have not spoken--a testimony not without -significance. - -Witness, for example, Oviedo, who systematically cries down Christopher -Columbus. He is silent as to the supposed pretension of Vespucius to -priority in the discovery of the mainland. Is it to be supposed that, if -the Florentine had actually claimed this honor, Oviedo would not have taken -him under his protection, and used his claim to make a breach in a -reputation that annoyed him? - -{626} - -But there is another silence more decisive. Two years after the death of -Christopher Columbus, that is to say in 1508, Don Diego, his eldest son, -brought a lawsuit against the crown before the council of the Indies, to -recover dignities and privileges that had been guaranteed to the admiral in -the treaties acceded to by Ferdinand and Isabella. It was essentially -important to the fiscal to prove that Columbus had been anticipated by some -one else in Paria, in order to deprive the heirs of all claim to the -revenues drawn from that country at least. Nor, although in this debate -efforts were made to draw from the seamen testimony inimical to Columbus, -and although the fiscal disdained to use no rumor, however vague or futile -it might be--descending to every refinement of deceit and fraud, and -pushing the hostility of the investigation even to extravagance, according -to Las Casas; yet neither Americus Vespucius, who was still alive during -the first four years, nor John Vespucius, his nephew, a renowned pilot, -ever brought forward any claim to priority in the discovery. They were not -called up as witnesses; the cosmographies printed in other countries in his -honor were not mentioned; [Footnote 231] and the lawsuit came to an end in -1527, after nineteen mortal years, without the name of Vespucius having -been brought forward in opposition to the great victim of injustice. - - [Footnote 231: It is quite possible that they had not been seen in - Seville. This furnishes a strong though indirect proof that Vespucius - did not know of their existence.] - -About the year 1513, Fernando Columbus, the admiral's second son, put the -last touches to the history of his father. An openly expressed and pious -indignation animated him against those who had embittered with so many -mortifications that illustrious career. He leaves the memory of Americus -Vespucius in peaceful repose. Evidently there was nothing to avenge in that -quarter. - -Sole and last of his contemporaries, finishing in extreme old age, at -eighty-five, in the year 1559, a general history of the Indies, Las Casas -accuses Vespucius of having falsified the date of his first voyage, and -given the number 1497 to the editors of Lorraine, with the premeditated -design of robbing Christopher Columbus of a glory so dearly acquired. -[Footnote 232] Nevertheless, he does not prove this, nor try to do so. Las -Casas was in fact mistaken. Americus Vespucius was a posthumous usurper, -and absolutely irresponsible. - - [Footnote 232: Humboldt shows that mistakes in dates occur in Las Casas - as in all the works of that day. Vol. iv. p. 139; vol. v. p. 191. - Charlevoix (History of St. Domingo,) says that Diego Columbus, in - gaining the suit raised by the fiscal, condemned Vespucius. Diego - simply proved that the admiral was the first to touch the coast of - Paria, 1498. He never thought of condemning Vespucius, who did not - appear in the case. The records of the lawsuit were not printed before - 1829. Crit. Exam. vol. v. p. 204, and note 2.] - -But a reaction came to the public conscience in favor of Christopher -Columbus. To ingratitude, to the base passions and mean motives so cruelly -leagued against him, there succeeded a more sound appreciation, in -proportion as, further removed by time, perspective views re-established -matters in their true position. He, who in 1492, had found the small island -of San Salvador in the little group of the Bahamas, was not known to have -that day discovered the New World. And yet it was another man's name that -his discovery was destined to immortalize! Then opinion, deceived in the -first instance about Christopher Columbus, erred in regard to Americus -Vespucius. The latter had to bear the weight of an error he had not -provoked, and, condemned without a hearing by a sort of universal consent, -to incur the sad celebrity of imposture unveiled. - -But to-day, we believe, a more enlightened judgment has acquitted him. His -fame is pure. Christopher Columbus does not accuse one who was his friend. -One glory does not mar another. It is sweet to have at least one injustice -less to inscribe in the martyrology of great initiators. - ------- - -{627} - - Translated from the German. - - Three Leaves From an Old Journal. - - - I. - - Milan, May 4, 1811. - -I arrived at Milan, at eight P.M., two days ago. I had never before seen -the magnificent cathedral, and I had everything to set off the picture on -which I came unexpectedly. The slender sickle of the new moon hung in the -violet sky, crimsoned in the west with the lingering sunlight: the -street-lamps, just lighted, threw before me a line of red glow; the bronze -statue surmounting the lofty obelisk rose in the clear blue above; around -it silence, with a tumult below of a crowd hurrying to the theatre. While I -stood lost in admiration, I saw two men, dressed for travel like myself, -emerge from the shadow of one of the pillars. Their voices as they -approached told me who they were, though I had not seen them in five years. - -"Hermann! Adolph!" I exclaimed; and they greeted me with joy. - -In a few moments we were seated at a table near the door of the nearest -cafe, flasks of the Lombard champagne, the foaming wine of Asti, before us, -each telling his adventures since our separation. From the same Fatherland, -we had travelled far in different directions. They had just come from the -Tyrol; from beholding the holy strife waged against the overbearing power -of France by those brave sons of the mountains. We talked of those events, -of those true-hearted patriots, and of our trust in justice human and -divine. Adolph had visited the noble hero, Hofer, and read us a poem he had -composed in his dwelling. I took a copy of the verses. - -We had little thought of our imprudence in thus discoursing, as we talked -till midnight, when the people were returning from the theatre. With -promises of another meeting, we then parted and I went to my lodgings. -Before I had walked far, I heard heavy, jingling steps close behind me, -and, turning, saw a French gendarme. I crossed toward a side street; he -followed, and suddenly seized me by the arm. "_Monsieur, votre -portefeuille_." he said; and, when I gave it up, bade me follow him. - -He led me to a lofty old building, the large door of which was secured with -heavy bolts. When it swung open, I saw French soldiers on guard. My captor -spoke apart with an officer, who presently gave me in charge to two -soldiers. A turnkey, bearing a lamp, preceded us, and, going up-stairs, we -entered a gloomy gallery. An iron-barred door was opened, and I was thrust -into a narrow cell, ventilated only by a small grated window, through which -gleamed a ray of starlight. The gendarme then came in, searched me, and -took away my papers, handing back my watch and purse. I was then asked if I -wanted anything; to which I replied with a bitter laugh; and with a not -uncourteous "_au revoir_," the soldiers departed. - -I threw myself on the straw mattress, and ruminated in the darkness on my -own imprudence and my probable fate. I was only twenty-one, and full of the -hope of great deeds in my country's service. I had parents, sisters, and -one dearer than all; yet, for my love to them and to my native land, I -should, no doubt, on the morrow be forced to kneel and receive the fire of -the soldiers. Thought was agony, but I could not help thinking. Suddenly -the dead silence of night was broken by a tone of melody so soft, so -exquisite, so melancholy, that it penetrated my soul. It was no song; it -was simply a strain of melody--such as brought tears to my eyes--such as -was never heard before. -{628} -Orpheus might have drawn it forth! It was--yes, I was sure it was--the -sound of a violin! - -Only a violin and yet such music--in my cold despair, with the galleys or -death before me--it raised me to the summit of rapture! With the -profoundest feelings of solemnity, it blended all the joy of freedom! How -it stole on the stillness of night, wafted through the bars of my window; -clear, softly swelling, plaintive, imploring like a prayer of -love--yielding like the timid bride--how did that wondrous harmony possess -my soul! Various airs were apparently improvised; sometimes the tones -glided like magic; then rising into power, they melted into the most -enchanting melody; ever clear, as if the notes had been distinct -pearl-drops. Then the rhapsodical strains passed, by a strange but charming -transition, into deep and wonderful pathos. It was full of sadness sweet -and tender, like a mourner's sigh; now it rose into silvery richness, now -gradually faded away; the melancholy plaint of an imprisoned king! It -filled me with calmness and trust in the midst of misfortunes. - -The music continued at intervals. I knew not whether to wonder most at the -composition or the execution of the player. Then he passed into strange -combinations, into bolder and wilder flights; his music was full of fire; -he seemed under the influence of inspiration. He seemed to create -difficulties only to triumph over them, and surpassing harmony was in all. -I had played the violin, (I have never attempted it since,) and could never -have imagined the instrument capable of what I heard. When the music -ceased, it lingered unforgotten in my soul. - -At daylight I heard the beating of a drum, and I climbed to my window to -see what was going on. It overlooked the court, and I saw a company of -soldiers, with three prisoners standing in front of them. The officer gave -a sign, and they marched away. Just then, my cell door was opened by the -jailer, who, in reply to my questions, said: "Those prisoners are to die in -an hour. They are suspected of treason; of having favored the insurrection -among the Tyrolese." - -These words were my death-warrant. I listened, shuddering, but with -composure. The jailer then informed me that the prisoners were allowed to -go into the court at that hour, and I could descend if I chose. I did so. I -found myself in a crowd of rough men, collected out of Lombardy, as its -scum, by the energy of the French government. At a distance from the -others, leaning against a pillar, his eyes turned toward the rising sun, I -saw a young man about twenty-five, apparently worn out with suffering. His -form was emaciated, his face deadly pale; his eyes were sunken; his nose -was aquiline; his forehead broad and high; and his tangled mass of black -hair, with a long beard, gave him a wild aspect. But there was a touching -interest in the sorrowful expression of his chiselled mouth and the lines -of his blanched face. He noticed no one, and was quite unconscious of my -long, earnest gaze. - -Suddenly he went up to the guard who had charge of the cells, and spoke to -him earnestly in Italian. I heard his voice in moving accents of entreaty. - -"No, you cannot!" replied the old man, sternly. "And if you are not quiet -of nights, I will even cut your last string for you." - -"It is the musician!" I cried to myself, and I hastened to speak to him. -But my steps were checked by hearing my own name pronounced behind me. The -gendarme who had arrested me stood there, and sternly bade me follow him. I -dared not hesitate. We went out of the door, and I saw a carriage in -waiting. My conductor motioned me to get in, and followed me. After a short -drive the carriage stopped before a handsome house. The French soldier -alighted, held the door open for me, and led me up the steps and into the -house. We stood in the hall some time; at length a door opened, and a voice -cried, "_Entrez!_" I went in alone. - -{629} - -A gentleman in military dress stood in the room, and extended his hand to -me. I recognized him at once. Four years before, in Berlin, General K. had -been brought wounded to the house of my father. Though a political enemy, -he had received tender care and nursing till restored to strength. - -He grasped my hand cordially. "You have been imprudent, my young friend," -he cried. "Had I not occupied this post, nothing could have saved your -life. You are now at liberty." - -"And Hermann--and Adolph," I questioned. - -"They are free also." - -I poured out thanks, which the general interrupted. "You must all be my -guests to-day," he said. "To-morrow I leave Milan with my troops, and you -must depart, or your adventure might still have serious consequences. I -have had your passports made out--to Germany." - - - II. - - Paris, April 13, 1814. - -A distinguished musical amateur--an intimate friend, to whom I had told -the story of my imprisoned violinist, and who thought it a romance highly -colored by imagination--sent me a note to say that I was to be treated to a -violin concert, by way of curing my enthusiasm. Lafont had promised to give -it; my friend took him at his word. It was to come off that evening, and -Baillot, Kreuzer, and Rode were invited to take part in the music. - -During the last four years I had heard the best violin players in the -different cities where I had sojourned, but none even approached the -unknown performer. Now, my ideal was to be tested by hearing the four most -celebrated masters in the world! - -The saloon was brilliantly lighted, and filled with a crowd of the artistic -and fashionable. The splendor was distasteful to me; I thought of the -dungeon in Milan, and the melody that seemed wafted from heaven. - -After the overture, Lafont opened the concert. He displayed the most -finished grace in andante as in allegro; the most exquisite polish and -silvery clearness of tone; but his playing--compared to my prisoner's--was -like a delicate miniature beside a grand historical painting. - -Kreuzer played next. His tones were full and clear, and rose into rare -boldness and strength; many passages were brilliant as a string of -diamonds; but it was the brilliancy of polished metal or jewels, not the -living beam that penetrates the soul. - -Next we heard Baillot. His performance glowed with a noble fire. He drew -forth a full, energetic harmony that thrilled me; it was glorious! He ruled -the realm of sound like a monarch. But my prisoner ruled it like a god! - -Rode appeared last. His form was impressive in grace and dignity; his -features were expressive and full of magnetic attraction. I started when he -began to play; for he stirred memory to its depths. He seemed to embody the -picture that had been floating before my fantasy. His music breathed the -same fire and fervor, restrained by kindred power. At one moment, he rose -to a height that seemed to equal the stranger's; but he could not sustain -it. I felt the difference. In Rode it was a wonderful, a masterly effort-- -that which my prisoner accomplished with perfect ease. _His_ chainless -spirit would have soared upward and onward, seeking prouder heights, more -fathomless depths. _He_ swept the empyrean till nearing the confines -of purer worlds, and gave back to men in unrivalled melodies the music -heard from other spheres. - -After the concert was over, my friend M---- introduced me to the celebrated -artists, to whom I was bound to praise their admirable performances. I said -nothing of my adventure in Milan; but Lafont, who had heard of it from -M----, questioned me, and then I related the occurrence. -{630} -They all laughed except Rode. I tried to describe the mysterious music, -mentioning peculiar difficulties overcome in a wonderful manner by the -prisoner. "Oh! you are jesting!" exclaimed Lafont. They did not believe me. -I was not well pleased, and soon after took my leave. Some one followed me -as I walked from the house. It was Rode. - -He expressed himself deeply affected by what I had told them, and asked me -if it was certainly true. I assured him it was. - -"I can believe you," he said, "and, furthermore, I am sure there is but one -man on earth who can be your mysterious prisoner. I heard him myself -fifteen years ago. I was in Genoa, and going home late one evening, when I -heard a violin played in a manner that filled me with surprise. The music -was enchanting. At length I discovered the performer to be a youth hardly -grown out of boyhood. He stood on a garden wall, and was looking up toward -a window, while he drew from the instrument sounds which revealed mysteries -in music of which I had never dreamed before. I stood in the shadow and -listened. The moon came out from behind a cloud, and shone full on the -boy's face and form; he was like what you have described. - -"When he ceased playing, the window was softly opened, and the face of a -young girl appeared. The next moment I heard a harsh voice exclaim: -'_Traditore! pel diavolo!_' The boy sprang from the wall into the -street, plunged into a dark alley, and disappeared. A head peered over the -wall, and oaths and menaces were profusely poured forth. The light in the -window had been quickly extinguished. Some love affair, of course! After -waiting some time, I went on, and as I passed by the wall trod upon -something. It was a violin bow, no doubt dropped by the lad as he leaped -from the wall. I kept the bow in hopes of finding the owner. It was marked -with a P. But I could not trace him; I had to leave Genoa, and have heard -nothing of him since. But to him I owe the improvements I have introduced -into my performance, for I never lost the impression of his music. I call -it a revelation: I owe to it the best part of my fame!" - -I listened to the great artist with astonishment. Then I told him of the -strange, fitful resemblances I had found in his playing to that of the -stranger. Both of us cherish the hope that we shall yet discover him. So -mighty a genius must one day sway the world. - - - III. - - Berlin, March 30, 1829. - -After my long residence in the north, I returned here yesterday. It was -half-past eight when I had changed my travelling dress and dined. I asked -the butler if there was anything new at the theatre. "Nothing, _mein -Herr_," he replied. "But the concert is an attraction. There is a violin -player--" - -"I have had enough of violin players." - -"This one, sir, is called a wonder. See, in the paper, here, what the -critic--Rellstab--says of him." - -"Never mind, I care little for the critic's praise. What is the name of -this wonderful performer?" - -"His name? I will tell you directly. Strange--it has just gone out of my -head! He is an Italian--" - -"An Italian?" I exclaimed, starting up. - -"Yes--and the name .... it begins with a P." - -"With a P! I must go instantly Where can I procure a ticket?" - -"At the bureau opposite." - -In a moment I had rushed across the street, and had the ticket. - -At the door of the concert hall I found the crowd so great I could not -force my way in. I was compelled to stand outside with the others. -Gradually I edged myself nearer. The tutti of the last composition was -ended; the solo--apollacca--began. - -{631} - -The tones struck deep in my heart. I had heard them before; they were -unforgotten. But what a miracle! Do two play--or three? That I have never -heard. No, I could not trust my ears. If I might but see the player! but -gain one look! In vain! the crowd surged against the open door, yet none -could make way through the swaying mass. At least I could hear now--and I -lost not one note. - -The music ceased, and a thunder-burst of applause shook the building. I -pressed forward again, striving to get a sight of the player; but others, -equally eager, pushed before me. I was again disappointed. With swelling -heart I waited, impatient to hear him commence again. - -At last: "Now he plays on the G string," said some one near me. He began. I -was not deceived. That was the very melody I heard in prison! Those were -the self-same tones that once--calming, elevating, faith-inspiring, as if -sent direct from heaven--sent light into my gloomy soul! - -With renewed efforts I forced my way into the hall. I saw once more the -pale, melancholy brow, the sunken eyes, the long, dark hair, the attenuated -cheeks, the enfeebled aspect of the whole person. It was HE! The mystery of -eighteen years was at length solved. The stranger who had so charmed my -soul, filling me with feelings unutterable--who had ceaselessly accompanied -me since, like a veiled phantom--familiar, yet from which I could not tear -the covering stood before me. I heard--I saw--PAGANINI! - ------- - - Original. - - Mary's Dirge. - - By Carolus. - - - "Manibus date lilia plenis." - - O THOU, whose awful mandate goes - Throughout a wondering world of woes, - Mysterious, still the same, - In moments such as this, we feel, - When grief is boundless, we must kneel - And bless THY holy name. - - Ah, MARY! what avails thee now - Thy radiant eyes, thy classic brow, - And form of queenly mould; - The charms of polished culture's art, - Thy trusting, noble woman's heart, - Now pulseless, senseless, cold? - - What now avails it to have stood, - In mind's keen conquest of the good, - Peerless among thy mates? - Or that a widowed mother wound, - Like NIOBE, her arms around - Her last, whom death awaits? - -{632} - - Alas! when heaven such gifts bestows, - It would, to earth-stained souls, disclose - A gleam of its own light, - But ere we learn how dear the prize, - All fades before our longing eyes, - Save sorrow, dreams, and night. - - But where can friends so stricken find - A solace for the anguished mind, - Except in Him who sends - The grief that clouds, the joy that cheers, - The course of checkered, fleeting years. - And whilst he smites befriends? - - As now I stand beside thy form, - So late in youth and beauty warm, - And sad, hushed vigil keep, - The eye would be as rayless grown, - As tearless, MARY, as thine own, - Could see--and could not weep. - - Behold that lovely ruined shrine, - That marble waste where thought divine - Still seems to sit enthroned; - Those pallid lips whose every word, - Like sweet aëolian music heard, - A hymn to nature toned. - - In pity, strew the virgin flower, - By virgin hands, in tender shower - Upon her virgin breast; - There sleeps she, purity's picked rose-- - An angel snatched from earthly woes - To calm, eternal rest. - - Though death's resistless, ruthless might - Sweeps beauty's loveliest forms from sight, - The soul retains her love, - And MARY'S spirit, ever near - The friends her young life cherished here, - Will lead their thoughts above. - - -Pittsburg, Jan. 21, 1867. - ------- - -{633} - - Abridged from the Dublin University Magazine. - - Sir Thomas More. - - -Sir Thomas More did not account his own death an evil; not only, in his -last moments, did he mention the king with sweet loyalty, but he also -displayed a cheerfulness which has scandalized some writers. Holinshed, for -instance, charges him with having been "a jester and scoffer at the houre -of his death." This mirthful disposition of More's has made his character -an interesting subject of inquiry. But irreverence has nothing in common -with that genial tendency which Southey has called pantagruelism, and the -desirability of which he has advocated. For pantagruelism is not -buffoonery, levity, cynical insensibility; neither does it consist in mere -play of wit, intellectual tumbling, and playful freaks of fancy. Jests are -but its effects, the ripples, fitfully reflecting the sunlight on the -surface, and showing that the underlying mass is a running stream and not a -stagnant fen. Music and prayer are sisters; cheerfulness is the music of -life, and harmonizes human passions into rest; it is most consistent with -that holy creed, the apostle of which taught men to "rejoice evermore;" it -is an ascensional force, a verbum, as the old mystics would have said, -which carries the spirit upward, and turns human nature toward the bright -side of things. He who was the teacher of its outwardly most grotesque -aspect has by implication defined pantagruelism as a "marvellous contempt -and holding cheap of fortuitous things," (Introd. to Gargantua;) its basis -is a want of love for the things that are in the world; its effect is, -therefore, a sweet smile at the contrast, perpetual in this earthly life, -between aspirations and realities. Hence More's pleasantry, always harmless -and free from sarcasm--sparks issuing from a healthy and beautiful spirit. -Pantagruelism itself becomes linked, in some natures, to a gentle -melancholy, the sadness of the soul exiled from its eternal birthplace; in -northern minds especially is this solemnity of reverie frequent; More, to -whom religion was a daily food, evinced this dreamy pensiveness, side by -side with his mirth, from his youth to his death. It also seemed as if, -gifted with the sagacity of a Machiavel, but without craft, he had in the -most prosperous moments of his life a power of intuition which could divine -his fate, and thus cast a softening radiance over what to other men would -have appeared a most dazzling brightness of worldly success. Hence there is -in the expression of his features a sort of anxiety mixed with -cheerfulness; the penetrative and humorous nose is like that of Erasmus; -but the bony, caustic traits of the humorist have otherwise an expression -very different from the melancholy which tempers More's face, the open gray -eyes, that seem anxiously anticipating the future or contemplating -religious things, the lips that half project in that pouting way to be -noticed on many Saxon types of countenances. - -When Henry VIII. ascended the throne, More ventured to express, in a poem -which attracted the royal favor, a conceit which was at once a criticism of -the past reign, a hope, and a foreboding for the future: - - "So after six and thirty thousand year All things shal be the same which - once they were; After the Golden came the Silver age: Then came the - Brass, and Iron the last stage. The Golden age is revolv'd to your reign: - I now conceive that Plato did not feign." - -From that time began the prosperity of More; but his previous life had been -both happy in a domestic capacity, and remarkable in a literary point of -view. He had already been an ascetic, a husband, and a poet. -{634} -As Disraeli remarks, "More in his youth was a true poet; but in his active -life he soon deserted these shadows of the imagination." - -Whether in poetry or in prose, More was to fulfil Cardinal Morton's -observation, that "The child here waiting at table, whomever shall live to -see it, will prove a marvellous man." It was at the archbishop's that More -won his first spurs in wit, devising pageants and allegories. But while his -airy character early manifested itself, his early poems also reflect a vein -of ascetic thoughtfulness; as in the Ruful Lamentacion he wrote on the -death of Queen Elizabeth, mother to King Henry VIII: - - "O ye that put your trust and confidence - In worldly joy and frayle prosperite, - That so lyve here as ye should never hence, - Remember death, and joke here uppon me. - Ensaumple, I thinke there may no better be. - Yourself wotte well that in this realme was I - Your quene but late, and lo, now here I lye. - - "If worship myght have kept me, I had not gone; - If wyt myght have me saved, I neded not fere; - If money myght have helpe, I lacked none. - But, good God, what vayleth all this gere? - When deth is come, thy mighty messengere, - Obey we must there is no remedy. - Me hath he summoned, and now here I ly. - - "Yet was I late promised otherwyse, - This yere to live in welth and delice. - Lo, whereto cometh thy blandishyng promyse, - O false astrology and devynatrice, - Of Goddes secrets makyng thyselfe so wyse. - How true is for this yere thy prophecy-- - The yere yet lasteth, and lo, nowe here I ly." - -Rhenanus, Brixius, Erasmus, commended his early poems; he was admitted -among the brotherhood of those who cultivated lettered lore. This was a -period of general renovation throughout Europe. For good or for evil, the -torch of knowledge had been lighted. Vocabularies and lexicons had reached -a fearful multiplication in Germany and Italy toward the close of the -fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth century. Nuremberg, Spires, Basil, -teemed with rudimentary treatises, dictionaries, and grammars; men were -feeding on Latin and Greek, studying eight or ten hours at a stretch. -England and Italy surpassed France in the literary movement; and Budé -complained that, in his countrymen's estimation, philological studies were -the hobbies of a few monomaniacs. More began his contributions to the -learning of the age by translating Lucian and Augustine's City of God. -Erasmus, in a letter to Hutten, described him as a unique genius in -England. But he gave his attention to religion no less than to literature. -"Erudition," Stapleton quaintly remarks, "however varied and extensive, is, -without piety, like a golden ring in the nostrils; there is nothing more -absurd than to set a precious jewel in a decaying piece of wood. Knowledge -is ill suited to a corrupt breast." To knowledge without goodness, Plato -had denied the name of wisdom, and given the inferior designation of -cleverness. But the youthful More was no less eager to attain piety than to -become proficient in learning. He manifested these aspirations according to -the tenets of his creed; he wore a hair-shirt, he slept on the bare floor, -his head resting on a wooden block; he restricted his hours of rest to four -or five at longest; acquainted with watchings and fastings, he nevertheless -made no ostentatious display of these and similar austerities--often, on -the other hand, concealing them under as conventional an appearance as it -was possible to bear. - -Finding it useful to have some great man as an ideal, he translated Pico -della Mirandola's life. At that time, Colet, dean of St. Paul's, was -preaching in London; More derived much comfort from his friendship, and -compared himself to Eurydice following Orpheus, but in danger of falling -back into the realms of darkness. In a letter to the dean he thus -expatiates upon the annoyances of life in London: "The roofs intercept a -great portion of the light, and do not allow a free view of the sky. The -air is not bounded by the circle of the horizon, but by the housetops. -Therefore I the more willingly bear with you for not repenting of your -residence in the country, where you see good people around you, void of the -cunning of towns; where, whithersoever you turn your eyes, the bland face -of the earth delights you. -{635} -There you see nothing but the benignant gifts of nature, and, as it were, -the sacred vestiges of innocence." As for his literary study, Lilly and -Tonstall were his associates--Linacre and Grocinus his tutors. Now began -that series of friendships which he was through life always willing to -contract with educated men, such as Crooke, or Croke, one of the greatest -students of the sixteenth century, who wrangled at Leipzig, "de -dogmatibilitatibus" and other long things--schools then disputed on the -weight of Hercules's club and the size of Diogenes's tub--who taught Greek -to Henry VIII., and succeeded Erasmus in the chair of Greek at Cambridge; -Lee, who wrote against Erasmus; Fisher, who wrote sturdily against -reformers; Dorpius, who was shocked at the new classical studies, hearing -people swear "by Jove," and was desirous of limiting Grecian studies to the -works of Chrysostom and the Eastern fathers; Goclenius, who professed for -twenty years; Cornelius Crocus, who wrote Latin with Terentian elegance, -and became a Jesuit when fifty years old; Grynaeus, who taught Greek, who, -although a reformer, never insulted his antagonists and discovered six -books of Livy; Peter AEgidius, or Giles, whom Erasmus called a most -agreeable host, and who wrote a Greek lexicon while Luther was bewailing -his sins in a convent cell; Paulus Jovius, who spent twenty-seven years in -writing his Latin history, was esteemed by Leo. X. above Livy, and wanted a -great lady to send him some jam from Naples, because he was getting sick of -new-laid eggs; Vives, who was one of the literary triumvirs of the age, and -who, at his lectures at Corpus Christi College, was often applauded by -Henry and Queen Catherine. In the mean while he had, in a more practical -sphere, taken the virile gown, before practising as a barrister, and at -twenty-eight years of age been elected to the office of perpetual -"shyrevus" or sheriff. His business was to "administer justice" for the -subordinate sheriffs, "_pro istis shyrevis_" (Stapleton,) who were -incompetent in matters of law. While he was filling this office, a riot -took place in the city. For several years past there had been a great -increase of foreign workmen, to the great annoyance of the native working -classes. A popular preacher of the day, Dr. Bell, preached a sermon, in -which he urged the people to expel the foreign usurpers. Apprentices and -artisans, therefore, agreed that on the first of May, after business, there -should be a massacre of the foreigners. This trades' demonstration, -however, was baffled through the foresight of More. He issued an edict, -enjoining all well-disposed persons to stay within doors after nine o'clock -on the first of May. On that day there was no disturbance. A few days -after, however, several riotous crowds of working-men gathered in their -thousands, rushed to Newgate, and set free some tiny minorities of swains -who had been locked up for robbing, murdering, or otherwise annoying the -foreigners. Hour by hour they mustered in huger strength; angry shouts in -homeliest Saxon rang through the air; the whirligig was getting louder and -louder to one's ears. It seemed at one time rather hard to say how all this -would end. More, being loved by the town mob, tried to speak to the crowd -of small boys, big men, and roughs. Was it a Saturday night, that there -should be such noise in the streets? Did the working-men forget their duty? -They did; and it was at last needful to send for the red coats, who, with -queer-looking harquebuses, soon put the mob to flight. Thirteen ringleaders -were arrested and condemned to death; one only, however, was executed, the -others being saved through the intercession of three queens and the -influence of More. - -In 1503 he was made a member of Parliament, and opposed a grant of money to -Henry VII. That monarch, who has been compared to Louis XI. of France, was -not to be bearded in this manner, and More was obliged to fly to the -continent. -{636} -But when Henry VIII. began his reign, More became the object of royal -favor. His literary talent and jovial mood were qualities too valuable not -to be appreciated by the king, who was surrounding himself with all -varieties of genius. Like Gargantua, the young king was athirst of all that -could adorn his court; More was therefore bound to the court by a golden -chain. He was made a knight, and one of the privy council. In return for -the royal favor he had to enliven the king with witty sayings, until this -yoke became almost too heavy for him. He had scarcely any time left for his -home enjoyments and his literary pursuits. In self-defence he was at last -driven to a kind of stratagem; he affected dulness, and tried as much as he -possibly could to become a bore. At last he succeeded and was allowed more -freedom and privacy. - -At that period he resided in Chelsea, then a fashionable suburb. There Sir -Thomas lived in a semi-patriarchal fashion. So strict was he in religious -observances in his family that his house has been compared to a kind of -convent or religious abode. Meekness, order, industry characterized the -inmates. He set every one an example of gentleness and wisdom. Roper says -that, during sixteen years spent with Sir Thomas, he never saw the latter -in a "fume." A young lady who had been brought up in the family used to -behave badly for the sole purpose of being chid by More, whose gentle pity -and gravity were delightful to observe. In his second wife, Mrs. Alice -Middleton, who had an acrid and disagreeable temper, he had an opportunity -for taming a shrew, and had performed that feat with more credit to his -skill and patience than pleasantness to himself. He used to give his wife -and children plenty of sound ethical advice: "It is now no mastery -(difficulty) for you children to goe to heaven," he would say, "for -everybody giveth you good counsel and good example. You see virtue rewarded -and vice punished, so that you are carried up to heaven as it were by the -chins." He would encourage them to bear diseases and afflictions with -patience, and to resist the devil, whom he would compare to an ape--"for as -the ape, not well looked to, will be busie and bold to do shrewde turnes, -and contrarily being spyed and checkt for them, will suddenly leap back and -adventure no further; so the devil," etc. Thus at dinner and supper did he -entertain his family with high moral purpose; he allowed them, for their -recreation, to sing or to play on "violes." Some biographers allege that he -once cured his daughter of the sweating sickness. Ellis Haywood published -at Florence a little book called "Il Moro," in which many details are given -respecting the home life of More. Thus he is represented as entertaining -six guests at dinner. After the meal the party ascend the mound in the -garden, and, sitting on a greensward, they admire the meanderings of the -river, the hills undulating on the horizon, the turf and flowers of the -river side. His establishment, in its simplicity, greatly contrasted with -Wolsey's household, and its five hundred dependents, chancellors, -chaplains, doctors, ushers, valets, and others. More, however, a jester, -the middle-ages custom of keeping a "fool" not yet having been -discontinued. Henry VIII. had his Somers, Wolsey his Path, and More his -Patterson. - -Sir Thomas was desirous of appropriating his leisure to the production of -some notable work. Already, while still unnoticed by Henry, he had written -a History of Richard III., in which he gave the following portrait of that -king: - - "Ill fetured of limmes, croke backed, his left shoulder much higher than - his right, hard-favoured of visage ... he was malicious wrathful, - envious, and from afore his birth, ever frowarde. ... Hee was close and - secrete, a deepe dissimuler, lowlye of countenance, arrogaunt of heart, - outwardly coumpinable where he inwardly hated, not letting to kisse whome - hee thoughte to kyll; dispitious and cruell, not for evill well alway, - but after for ambition, and either for the suretee or encrease of his - estate. Frende and foo was muche what indifferent, where his advantage - grew; he spared no man's deathe whose life withstoode his purpose. He - slewe with his owne handes King Henry the Sixt, being prisoner in the - Tower, as menne constantly saye." - -{637} - -Shakespeare no doubt borrowed from this sketch some of the traits with -which he depicted the ambitious monarch. On the other hand, Horace Walpole, -in his "Historic Doubts," will have it that this history was written "from -a most corrupted source." - -More now began to concentrate his energies for a work of more universal -interest. He became more abstemious than ever in his food and sleep; he -snatched as many hours as possible from his official pursuits, in order to -cultivate literature. The result of this labor was the famous "Utopia," -composed in 1516. In a letter to Peter Giles or AEgidius, he describes the -manner in which that work was written: "After having been engaged in -pleading or hearing causes, either as judge or arbiter, there is left me -but scant opportunity for literature. I return home; I must talk with my -wife, amuse my children, confer of household affairs with my dependents. It -is necessary to do all this unless you are to be a stranger in your own -house. ... When therefore can I write? Neither have I mentioned the time -necessary for sleep or food." ... In fact he used at that time to rise at -two o'clock in the morning, writing till seven. Under these difficulties he -effected his purpose--he completed a work which won him a European -reputation. - -Poets and philosophical dreamers react in their speculations against the -barrenness or terror of reality; and the more striking is this background, -the more impressive is the effect of the whole. More's book had an -appropriate practical contrast in the political circumstances of the time. -There were rumors of great wars; the Moslem emperor was threatening -Christendom. This fact, perhaps, not less than the intrinsic merit of the -book, explains the brilliant success of the "Utopia." Every educated man -read it. Morus [sic] was greatly delighted, and candidly gave expression to -his feelings. He was, he averred, more pleased with Tunstall's appreciation -than if he had received an Attic talent. Sometimes he fancied that his -Utopians were about to elect him their king for ever. In reality, he was -highly praised by AEgidius, Jovius, Busleyden, Paludanus, and others. The -new republic, these friendly critics averred, transcended the polity of -ancient Athens or Rome. A way had been shown toward the attainment of true -happiness. The book was a masterpiece of erudition, philosophy, knowledge -of the world. All this approbation was the more acceptable to More, that he -had been somewhat diffident concerning the reception of his work. In a -letter to Peter AEgidius, or Giles, of Antwerp, he had indulged in that -superciliousness toward the multitude which is the besetting temptation of -solitary thinkers. He complained of the discordances of criticism, the -small qualification of many for the exercise of lettered appreciation: - - "The tastes of men are very different; some are of so morose a temper, so - sour a disposition, and make, such absurd judgments of things, that men - of cheerful and lively tempers, who indulge their genius, seem much more - happy than those who waste their time and strength in order to publishing - a book; which, though of itself it might be useful or pleasant, yet - instead of being well received, will be sure to be either laughed at or - censured. Many know nothing of learning, others despise it; a man that is - accustomed to a coarse and harsh style thinks everything is rough that is - not barbarous. Our trifling pretenders to learning think all is slight - that is not dress'd up in words that are worn out of use; some love only - old things, and many like nothing but what is their own. Some are so sour - that they can allow no jests, and others so dull that they can endure - nothing that is sharp; while some are as much afraid of anything gay and - lively, as a man with a mad dog is of water; others are so light and - unsettled, that their thoughts change as quick as they do their postures. - Some, again, when they meet in taverns, take upon them, among their cups, - to pass censures very freely on all writers, and with a supercilious - liberty to condemn everything they do not like; in which they have an - advantage, like that of a bald man, who can catch hold of another by the - hair, while the other cannot return the like upon him. They are safe, as - it were, from gunshot, since there is nothing in them solid enough to be - taken hold of; others are so unthankful, that even when they are well - pleased with a book, yet they think they owe nothing to the author." - -{638} - -Although More did meet with some of these ignorant or malevolent critics, -he must have been gratified at finding himself exalted into a modern Plato. -Nor was the praise he received partial or exaggerated. He had expressed the -leading idea of the time. Casting a general glance over the social field, -he had applied the newly arisen spirit of research and criticism to the -survey of society. Judging the actual, he had also evolved the ideal, which -the humanitarians of the age had more dimly viewed. Being a man of genius, -he had expressed a certain order of thought--concisely, but not the less -comprehensively--for all ages; and modern Positivists, Owenists, -Fourierists, and many other ists, might, from a study of the "Utopia," -gather another illustration of the great truth that there is nothing new -under the sun. - -The plan of the work is as follows: More supposes himself in Flanders, in -the capacity of ambassador to Charles the Fifth, and in the company of -"that incomparable man, Cuthbert Tonstal, whom the king, with such -universal applause, lately made master of the roles." At Antwerp, they -become acquainted with Peter Giles, or AEgidius, "a man of great honor and -of good rank in his town, though less than he deserves;" and they make -another acquaintance in this wise: "One day, as I was returning home from -mass at St. Mary's, which is the chief church, and the most frequented of -any in Antwerp, I saw him (Petrus AEgidius, or Giles) by accident, talking -with a stranger, who seemed past the flower of his age; his face was -tanned, he had a long beard, and his cloak was hanging carelessly about -him; so that by his looks and habits I concluded he was a seaman." This -ancient mariner, however, turns out to have travelled as an observer and -philosopher as well as a naval man; his name is Raphael Hythloday. He is a -Portuguese, who has travelled with Americus Vespucius. It is in -conversation with the stranger that More becomes acquainted with the -history and manners of the Utopians. In the first part of the book, Raphael -censures the polity of ordinary countries; he complains that "most princes -apply themselves more to affairs of war than to the useful arts of peace; -they are generally set more on acquiring new kingdoms, right or wrong, than -on governing well those they possess." Such opinions had a peculiar -pungency at a time when Selim was threatening to root out the Christian -name from Europe. Raphael criticises those in power, and their conservative -spirit; he betrays an implacable hostility toward those who "cover -themselves obstinately with this excuse, of reverence to past times;" he -had, he said, met with them chiefly in England, where he happened to be -when the rebellion in the west was suppressed, "with a great slaughter of -the poor people that were engaged in it." When relating his sojourn in -England, Raphael also indulges in the eulogy of that reverend prelate, John -Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury--in whose house More had been brought up-- -"A man, Peter, (for Mr. More knows well what he was,) who was not less -venerable for his wisdom and virtues, for the high character he bore: he -was of a middle stature, not broke with age: his looks begot reverence -rather than fear; his conversation was easy, but serious and grave; he -sometimes took pleasure to try the force of those that came as suitors to -him upon business, by speaking sharply though decently to them, and by that -he discovered their spirit and presence of mind, with which he was much -delighted, when it did not grow up to impudence, as bearing a great -resemblance to his own temper, and he looked on such persons as the fittest -men for affairs. -{639} -He spoke both gracefully and weightily; he was eminently skilled in the -law; had a vast understanding, and a prodigious memory; and those excellent -talents with which nature had furnished him were improved by study and -experience. When I was in England, the king depended much on his councils, -and the government seemed to be chiefly supported by him; for from his -youth he had been all along practised in affairs; and, having passed -through many traverses of fortune, he had with great cost acquired a vast -stock of wisdom; which is not soon lost, when it is purchased so dear." -More's talent for keen observation and portraiture is also evinced in the -delightful sketch of the lawyer whom Raphael observes at Archbishop -Morton's. This gentleman "took occasion to run out in a high commendation -of the severe execution of justice upon thieves, who, as he said, were then -hanged so fast that there were sometimes twenty on one gibbet; and upon -that he said he could not wonder enough how it came to pass that, since so -few escaped, there were yet so many thieves left who were still robbing in -all places." Raphael, who in that nineteenth century which takes upon -itself to realize almost all the visions of dreamers, would have been a -zealous advocate for the abolition of capital punishment, objects that -"this way of punishing thieves was neither just in itself, nor good for the -public; for as the severity was too great, so the remedy was not effectual; -simple theft not being so great a crime that it ought to cost a man his -life; no punishment, how severe soever, being able to restrain those from -robbing who can find out no other way of livelihood. Not only you in -England, but a great part of the world, imitate some ill masters that are -readier to chastise their scholars than to teach them." Here is included -the modern fallacy about reforming criminals, which has been so much -insisted on, as if that reformation was so easy a task, as if so many -probabilities were not against it, as if it was not better for poor -criminals to be sent to a better world, than to be left open in this life -to almost irresistible temptations. However, that form of sentiment called -humanitarianism--which would spare the wicked and lost, while the honest -and useful are left to slow tortures, as in the case of merchant -sailors--that humanitarianism is continually displayed by this Raphael, in -a completeness and energy beyond which no later speculations have attained. -The lawyer maintains about the thieves that "there are many handicrafts, -and there is husbandry, by which they may make a shift to live, unless they -have a greater mind to follow ill courses;" and Raphael's rejoinder -discloses a state of things which was not very well calculated to make the -army popular: "That will not serve your turn, for many lose their limbs in -civil or foreign wars, as lately in the Cornish rebellion, and some time -ago in your wars with France, who, being thus mutilated in the service of -their king and country, can no more follow their old trades, and are too -old to learn new ones. He owns, however, that wars do not occur every day. -The following opinion of his may be advantageously recommended to the -careful study of enlightened and disinterested democrats, who, by the -magical power of their thought, can amplify it, transmogrify it, intensify -it for the benefit of their country's flesh and blood: "There is a great -number of noblemen among you, that are themselves as idle as drones; that -subsist on other men's labors, on the labor of their tenants, whom, to -raise their revenues, they pare to the quick." Applying this to his theory -of thieves, Hythlodoeus says that these noblemen keep a great number of -servants who, on their master's death, are turned out of doors and betake -themselves to larceny. The lawyer, in nowise disconcerted, answers that -these tatterdemalions, constitute a capital recruiting-ground for the army. -Raphael retorts that a converse metamorphosis of efficient soldiers into -able robbers is liable to take place. -{640} -He also inveighs against France for keeping up a ruinous military -establishment: "But this bad custom, so common among you, of keeping many -servants, is not peculiar to this nation. In France there is yet a more -pestiferous sort of people; for the whole country is full of soldiers, -still kept up in time of peace, if such a state of a nation can be called -peace; and these are kept in pay upon the same account that you plead for -those idle retainers about noblemen, this being a maxim of those pretended -statesmen, that it is necessary for the public safety to have a good body -of veteran soldiers ever in readiness. They think raw men are not to be -depended upon, and they sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they -may train up their soldiers in the art of cutting throats; or, as Sallust -observed, for keeping their hands in use, that they may not grow dull by -too long an intermission. But France has learned to its cost how dangerous -it is to feed such beasts. The fate of the Romans, Carthaginians, and -Syrians, and many other nations and cities, which were both overturned and -quite ruined by those standing armies, should make others wiser." And -Hythloday in his enthusiasm adds a stinging taunt, the truth of which, -however, subsequent agitations and rebellions have not confirmed: "Every -day's experience shows that the mechanics in the towns or the clowns in the -country are not afraid of fighting with those idle gentlemen." He further -attributes the great number of thieves to the increase of pasture, "by -which your sheep, which are naturally mild and easily kept in order, may be -said now to devour men and unpeople not only villages, but towns;" land was -enclosed, tenants turned away, and Hythlodoeus points out a cattle plague -among the results of this state of things, adding somewhat fiercely: "To us -it might have seemed more just had it fell on the owners themselves." He -does not seem to perceive that by this enclosure the land is saved from -that exhaustion which must ultimately reduce Europe to a barren state, and -thus annihilate civilization; but humanitarianism was never remarkable for -excess of foresight. The lawyer is about to reply in a speech divided into -four points, but the humane archbishop interferes, and "eases him of the -trouble of answering;" unfortunately, however, or perhaps from a relish for -humor, he allows Raphael to indulge in a long speech on the reasons against -putting thieves to death. Hythloday recommends a punishment which no -sensible thief would prefer to death, namely, that the criminal should be -made to work all his life in quarries or mines. But as this was the ancient -Roman method, it is not perfect enough for the ingenious Raphael, who would -much prefer a scheme according to which the thieves are let loose in the -daytime, engaged in working for the public; and, although liable to be -whipped for idleness, these debonair convicts punctually return to prison -every evening, and answer to their names before being locked up for the -night. The reformer adds somewhat naively, "the only danger to be feared -from them is their conspiring against the government." The unfortunate -lawyer, rather taken aback at the idea of London being full of convicts -with cropped ears and a peculiar dress, playing the part of commissionaires -or otherwise making themselves generally useful to Londoners, says that he -fears this could not take place without the whole nation being endangered; -the sensible cardinal avoids this slight exaggeration, and answers with -quiet irony that it is not easy to form a judgment with respect to the -success of this scheme, since it is a method that has never yet been tried. -If, in this exquisite scene, which evinces such dramatic genius, there is -any trace of a lyrical element, this is most likely to be found in the -cardinal's verdict, who is confessedly the most honored and reverend -personage, and withal one with a real prototype. There is no reason to -suppose that Morus was a Hythloday; of course, reflecting the thoughts of -his age, he had entertained similar ideas; but instead of petrifying them -in his mind, he vaporized them, dramatized them, as it were, in the -character of Hythloday, contemplated their embodiment or type in an -objective, extraneous form, and thus remained, as to his inner self, -impartial and moderate. - -{641} - -Now, however, the Pantagruelistic element tends to predominate, and More -will expend some humor in satirizing friars, those _bétes noires_ of -educated men in the sixteenth century. A jester who is standing by gives it -as his opinion that mendicants should become monks and nuns. A friar says -that even that transformation would not save the kingdom from beggars; the -jester calls the friars vagabonds; the friar falls into a passion and -overwhelms the fool with epithets. Notwithstanding a scriptural reminder -from the jester, "in patience possess ye your souls," the friar wrests the -words of Scripture to the purposes of his anger. The cardinal courteously -exhorts him to govern his passions; "but," answers the friar, "holy men -have had a good zeal--as it is said; the zeal of thine house hath eaten me -up." "You do this perhaps with a good intention," replies the cardinal; -"but in my opinion, it were wiser in you, and perhaps better for you, not -to engage in so ridiculous a contest with a fool." The friar retorts that -"Solomon, the wisest of men, said to answer a fool according to his folly," -and asserts that "if the many mockers of Elisha, who was but one bald man, -felt the effect of his zeal, what will become of one mocker of so many -friars, among whom there are so many bald men? We have likewise a bull, by -which all that jeer at us are excommunicated." Seeing the matter is not -likely soon to end, the archbishop sends the jester away and changes the -subject. - -After criticising the policy by which Henry VII. extorted money from his -subjects, Raphael Hythlodoeus, the radical, freely avows his opinion, that -"as long as there is any property, and while money is the standard of all -other things, I cannot think that a nation can be governed either justly or -happily; not justly, because the best things will fall to the share of the -worst men; nor happily, because all things will be divided among a few, -(and even those are not in all respects happy,) the rest being left to be -absolutely miserable." An Owenite of the nineteenth century could not -express himself more plainly. Again, he asserts that "till property is -taken away, there can be no equitable or just distribution of things, nor -can the world be happily governed; for, as long as that is maintained, the -greatest and the far best part of mankind will be still oppressed with a -load of cares and anxieties. I confess that, without taking it quite away, -those pressures that lie on a great part of mankind may be made lighter; -but they can never be quite removed." - -In the second book Raphael gives up criticising the established order of -things, and describes the condition of Utopia. That island, once called -Abraxa, lies on the other side of the Atlantic. In days of yore it was -conquered and redeemed from a barbarous condition by the great legistor -Utopus. There are fifty-four cities in the island, and Amaurot is the -metropolis. All these towns are as like one another, in outward -conformation, laws, and customs, as possibility will admit. Farm-houses -fill up the rural part of the island. Agricultural business is carried on -by means of a kind of transportation from the cities; parties of -inhabitants, in families of forty, are sent to rusticate for two years, -after which lapse of time they return to town and others are sent out. -There is in this manner a continual and well regulated supply and demand in -agricultural labor; and the pursuits of tillage are conducted so -intelligently as to avoid that scarcity of corn which would occasion -unpleasant complications in so well-regulated a country. Among these -husbandmen's devices is a plan for the artificial hatching of eggs. -{642} -So wonderful a system of Fetichism prevails in Utopia that "he that knows -one of their towns knows them all, they are so like one another, except -where the situation makes some difference." Raphael describes Amaurot, -where he has resided for not less than four years. "Their buildings are -good, and are so uniform that a whole side of a street looks like one -house. The streets are twenty feet broad; there lie gardens behind all -their houses, which are large but inclosed with buildings, that on all -hands face the street, so that every house has both a door to the street -and a back door to the garden." The magistrate was, of old, called the -syphogrant, but is now designated as the philarch; and over every ten -syphogrants is a higher functionary anciently called the tranibore, and now -the archphilarch. The syphogrants elect the prince by ballot--"they give -their voices secretly so that it is not known for whom every one gives his -suffrage." The prince is elected for life, with, however, this -reservation--"unless he is removed upon suspicion of some design to enslave -the people." The syphogrants in their council have it for their peculiar -mission to prevent any conspiration being formed by the prince and the -tranibores for the enslavement of the nation. Mechanics in Utopia have -their day's work limited to six hours; the rest of the twenty-four hours -being by them devoted to hearing lectures if they are of a studious turn, -or to reading, eating, sleeping, etc. After supper, they go in winter to -music halls; in summer, to gardens; or they divert themselves with games, -"not unlike our chess," between "virtues and vices," in which are -represented, in a manner combining instruction with amusement, "the methods -by which vice either openly assaults or secretly undermines virtue; and -virtue on the other hand resists it." There are no taverns or ale-houses. -The Utopians prefer iron to gold or silver; they make their commonest -utensils of what to other nations are the precious metals; of silver and -gold they also make chains for slaves, adding to the infamy of convicts by -making them wear golden earrings or coronets. Pearls they find on the -coast, and diamonds on the rocks. The ambassadors of Anemolia were -therefore disappointed when, thinking to astonish the Utopians by a profuse -display of gold ornaments, they were only derided by this utilitarian race -as wearers of useless metal. - -As to knowledge, the Utopians are fortunate in having all the wisdom of the -ancients without the trouble of being acquainted with dead languages; for -it seems that they themselves have made "the same discoveries as the -Greeks, both in musick, logick, arithmetick, and geometry." Their habit of -mind, unlike that of the Scotch, is rather outer than inner, objective than -subjective, inclined to practical science rather than to metaphysics; they -would be unable to understand a definition of man in the "aibstract." They -are acquainted with astronomy, but eschew divination by the stars. Touching -the causes of things, and the problems of moral philosophy, there is by no -means a perfect agreement among them: they have a tendency toward the -'happiness' principle. Such is their aversion to war that, when compelled -to enter the field, they immediately set a price on the head of the enemy's -king, or of any of his ministers who may have been instrumental in bringing -about the outbreak of hostilities. The admirers of More have been somewhat -shocked at this practice, more utilitarian than honorable; but there is no -reason to suppose he would have consented to such a course in a similar -conjuncture; it is as an artist, and to complete the necessary development -of the Utopian character, that he has imputed to them this utilitarian, -positivistic device; a nation which could be brought to regard war as an -evil, damaging the happiness of the greatest number, would not stick at -sacrificing a few princes in a quiet way in order to secure the advantage -of the many through the ruin of the few. -{643} -Here's account of the high esteem in which the Utopians hold their priests, -is, perhaps, more lyrical than consistent with the character of that -imaginary nation; he makes them go so far in their reverence as to bring no -sacerdotal criminals to account, the punishment of these offenders being -"left to God and to their own consciences." It must be recollected, -however, that they have but few priests, and those chosen with great -caution. The Utopians have ritualistic tendencies. "They burn incense, and -other sweet odors, and have a great number of wax lights during their -worship; not out of any imagination that such oblations can add anything to -the divine nature, which even prayers cannot do; but as it is a harmless -and pure way of worshipping God, so they think those sweet savors and -lights, together with some other ceremonies, by a secret and unaccountable -virtue elevate men's souls and inflame them with greater energy and -cheerfulness during the divine worship." The priests' vestments "are -parti-colored; and both the work and colors are wonderful. ... They say -that, in the ordering and placing those plumes, some dark mysteries are -represented, which pass down among their priests in a secret tradition -concerning them; and that they are as hieroglyphics, putting them in mind -of the blessings that they have received from God, and of their duties both -to him and to their neighbors." Raphael concludes the book by saying that -"there are many things in Utopia which I rather wish than hope to see -followed in our governments;" and this hint shows the dreamy nature of the -scheme. The Utopia is, indeed, a mere philosophical romance, in which More -sacrificed to the humanitarian tendencies of the age, but which left his -deep and inner convictions unshaken. His after life showed that he was free -from any tendency to realize the Utopian idea; and the more so, perhaps, -because he had written the Utopia; for there is in the utterance of thought -a peculiar virtue which clears the mind from the effects of a lingering and -stagnating condition of ideas. Like Plato's Atlantis, the Utopia is an -ingenious play of fancy rather than a production intended to convey serious -truths under a veil; it is alike removed from the earnest intensity of -thought pervading Cicero's Republic, and the semi-prophetic rapture of -Bacon's New Atlantis. And in relation to our age, the Utopia serves to show -that what enthusiasts have imagined, under the influence of the modern -sceptical spirit, had been foreshadowed and included at the very dawn of -that spirit, by the comprehensiveness of genius; and that the class of -schemes which are designated by the name of Sir T. More's production, are -as far from their practical fulfilment now as they were three hundred or -three thousand years ago. - -Like every successful author, More had his literary quarrels. The favor -with which the Utopia had been received, excited the gall of a French man -of letters, who had already broken a few lances with More. This Brixius, -Brice, or Brie according to Rabelais, published a book called Anti-Morus, -in which he carefully raked up every mistake in grammar and quantity to be -found in More's early Latin poem. He punned on More's name, likening it to -Môros, the Greek word for madman. Erasmus wrote to this critic, charging -him with being a very child compared with More. Sir Thomas speedily -prepared an answer, but Erasmus advised him to meet the attack with silent -contempt. There is nothing so galling to fools. More perceived that to be -attacked by dunces is an advantage rather than otherwise. - -It was about that period that Oxford was convulsed by the introduction of -Grecian studies. The "Trojans," as they called themselves, evinced an -implacable hostility toward the "new learning." Priam, Hector, Paris, waged -war against Hellenic writings. -{644} -But the tide of grammars, aorists, accents, was no more to be staid than -the hosts of real invaders at the siege of Troy. More played the part of -Sinon. He wrote to the Oxonians that Greek was being learned at Cambridge, -that the king and Wolsey were in favor of Greek; that in the end the -Trojans would have to be wise; and at last the reactionists gave in. - -In 1523, Sir T. More was appointed speaker of the house of commons. This -advancement he accepted with some reluctance. In his opening speech, he -besought the clemency of the king in behalf of any man who, in the house, -should chance to speak unadvisedly and roughly: "Such is the weight of the -matter, such is the reverent dread that the timorous hearts of your -naturall subjects conceive towards your highnesse, (our most undoubted -soveraign,) that they cannot in this point rest satisfied, except your -gracious bounty therein declared, put away the scruple of their timorous -mindes, and animate and encourage them from all doubt; may it therefore -please your majesty, (our most gracious king ) of your great goodnesse, to -pardon freely, without doubt of your dreadful displeasure, whatsoever shall -happen any man to speak in the discharging of his conscience, interpreting -every man's words, how unseemly soever couched, yet to proceed of good zeal -to the prosperity of the kingdome, and the honour of your royall person." -Not long after, a grant of money being before parliament, the cardinal, -fearing it would not pass the lower house, bethought himself of attending -the debate. Previously there had been a slight disagreement or "garboyle" -between the cardinal and the honorable members, with whom Wolsey was -displeased, because they were addicted to revealing in ale-houses what had -been said within the walls of parliament. On this occasion, therefore, the -new speaker urged the necessity of the cardinal's entering the house in -full pomp: "Masters," said Sir Thomas, "for as much as my lord cardinall, -not long since, as ye all know, laid to our charge the lightnesse of our -tongues, for things spoken out of this house; it shall not, in my judgment, -be amisse to receive him with all his pomp; his maces, his pillars, his -pole axes, his crosses, his hat, and great seal, too; that so if he blame -us hereafter, we may be the bolder to excuse ourselves, and lay it upon -those that his grace bringeth hither with him." The house agreed to this, -and the cardinal, in a "solemn oration," gave many reasons for granting the -money; but the house remained silent. He made another appeal: "Masters, you -have many wise and learned men among you, and since I am, by the king's own -person, sent hither unto you for the preservation of yourselves and all the -kingdome, I think it fit you give me some reasonable answer." Still every -man held his peace, so that he called them by name. Mr. Murray (afterward -Lord Murray) and several others of "the wisest of the house," when -challenged in this way, returned no answer, "being before agreed." The -cardinal expressed his surprise at "this marvellous obstinate silence," and -called on the speaker to answer. Sir Thomas, first meekly kneeling upon his -knees, pleaded that the house was abashed by so illustrious a presence as -the cardinal's; showed that, besides, the ancient liberty of the house -allowed the members to be silent; averred that he was quite unable to speak -in their name, "except every one of them could put their several wits into -his head." The poor cardinal retired in despair, and afterward gave vent to -his grief by saying to More, in the gallery at Whitehall: "Would to God, -Mr. More, you had been to Rome when I made you speaker!" "Your grace not -offended, so would I too, my lord." rejoined Sir Thomas. Then, with his -usual kindly tact, he changed the subject. - -{645} - -And now More was to enter on the fiercer struggles of the theological -arena. He was to write in a weighty, but also nervous and popular manner, -often condescending to the humorous anecdote, or "merrie tale," those ample -controversial treatises in which was laid the broad foundation stone of -English prose. Even for so dreamy and gentle a thinker, there could be no -avoiding the contests of the age. The times were too stirring for mere -literary dilettanteism. As Le Bas has remarked, "Things which, for many a -century, had been deemed by multitudes immutable as the laws of nature, -were now found to contain within themselves the elements of a change. The -supremacy of the Roman pontiff, more especially, had till then been very -generally regarded as a fundamental principle of revealed religion. Yet -this was precisely the principle against which the first violence of the -spirit now abroad was vehemently directed; and, what was still more -astounding, the assault against it was either directed or assisted by men -who had pledged themselves to its maintenance by the most solemn sanctions -which religion can impose. All this cannot have happened without a perilous -convulsion of the public mind. It may be said, without the smallest -exaggeration, that no disturbance in the order of the physical world could -have produced, in many a heart, much more confusion and dismay than that -which was occasioned by this rupture of immemorial prejudices and -associations. The fountains of the great deep were breaking up before their -eyes, and the summits of ancient institutions seemed in danger of -disappearing beneath the deluge." (Le Bas's Life of Cranmer.) More answered -an attack which Luther had made on the king. In 1525, he wrote a very acrid -letter against the Reformers, urging Erasmus to more decided action. But -the humanitarian had small anxiety for engaging in these disputes. More -soon found abundant work for himself. In 1524 or 1525, there was published -an anonymous tract, entitled the Supplycacion of Beggers, which was a -virulent attack on the clergy. - -Erasmus had said that, under a religious veil, the Reformation movement was -the quarrel of those who had not against those who had. This, the opinion -of most educated men in the sixteenth century, appeared to be confirmed by -this tract, which urges a severe blow against the church, not on religious -grounds, but in behalf of the poor. In the Supplycacion the king is advised -to take the wealth of the monasteries and give it to the poor. In this -singular production the long-winded sentences of the opening are the very -whine of mendicants: - - "Most lamentably complayneth theyre wofull misery unto your highness, - your poore, the wretched hidous monsters, (on whom scarcely for horror - any dare loke,) the foule unhappy sort of lepers, and other sore people, - nedy, impotent, blinde, lame, and sike, that live only by almesse, name - that theyre nombre is daily so sore increased that all the almesse of all - the well-disposed people of this youre realme is not halfe ynough for to - susteine theim, but that for very constreint they die for hunger. And - this most pestilent mischief comen uppon youre saide poore by the reason - that there is yn the tyrnes of youre noble predecessours passed craftily - creypt ynto this your realme another sort (not of impotent but) of strong - puissant and counterfeit holy and idell beggers and vacabundes, which - syns the tyme of theyre first entre by all the craft and wilinesse of - satan are nowe encreased under your sight not onely into a great nobre - but also ynto a kingdome. These are (not the herdes, but the ravinous - wolves going in herdes clothing devouring the flocke) the bisshoppes, - abbottes, priours, deacons, archedeacones, suffraganes, prestes, monkes, - chanons, freres, pardoners, and somners. ... The goodliest lordshippes, - maners, landes, and teritories, are theyrs. Besides this they have the - tenth part of all the corne, medowe, pasture, grasse, colts, calves, - lambes, pigges, gese, and chickens." - -He calculates the salaries paid to the clergy as amounting to one hundred -and thirty thousand angels. "Whereof not foure hundreth yeres passed they -had not one peny." He gives historical illustrations to show the -desirableness of being freed from such tributes: "The nobill king Arthur -had never ben abill to have caried his armie to the fote of the mountains -to resist the coming downe of Lucius the emperoure if such yerely exactions -had ben taken of his people. -{646} -The Grekes had never ben abill to have so long continued at the siege of -Troie if they had had at home such an idell sort of cormorantes to finde. -The auncient Romains had never ben abil to have put all the hole world -under theyre obeisance if theyre people had byn thus yerely oppressed. The -Turke nowe yn your tyme shulde never be abill to get so moche groande of -Cristendome if he had yn his empire such a sort of locustes to devoure his -substance." As it proceeds, the tract becomes more and more nervous and -truculent. Irritated by the utterance of this "beggars' proctour," More in -1529 replied in his Supplycacion of Soules. - -This purports to be an appeal from the "holy souls in purgatory" to all -good Christians. The Supplicacion of Beggars is called "an unhappy boke." -It is urged that "lacke of belief in purgatory bringeth a man to hell." He -refutes the "beggars' proctour" by showing that Peter's pence was paid -before the conquest, and exclaims: "Oh! the grevouse shipwrak of the comen -weale; he sayeth that in auncient time before the coming of the clergye -there were but few pore people, and yet thei did not begge, but there was -gyven them ynough unasked, because at that time he saith there was no -clargy. ... In thys place we let pas his threfold foly." He says that this -"beggars' proctour" should have concluded his "supplycacion" in such terms -as these: "After ye the clergy is thus destroied and cast out, then shall -Luther's ghospel come in; then shal Tyndal's testament be taken up; then -shal false heresies bee preached; then shal the sacramentes be set at -naught; than shal fasting and prayour be neglected; then shal holy saints -be blasphemed;... then shal the servantes set naught by theyr maysters, and -vnruly people rebell against their rulers; then wyll ryse vp ryflyng and -robbery, murther and mischief, and playn insurreccion. ... all which -mischief may yet be withstanden easilye, and with Godde's grace so shal it, -yf ye suffer no such bold beggars to seduce you with sedycyouse billes." -More girds on the most substantial armor in the Dialogue concerning -Heresies, and other polemical treatises. He maintains that the church -cannot err in the interpretations of Scripture; that according to the -teaching of early doctors it is lawful to venerate images and render homage -to relics. He argues for the real presence, comparing it with St. -Chrysostom to one man's face reflected in several mirrors; all the hosts, -although in different places, are but one body and divine oblation. He -adduces as one of the reasons for which Tyndal's New Testament was burned, -that in that version the words priests, church and charity, are -respectively rendered "seniours," "congregation," and "love." The word -senior, he maintains, would apply "Englishly" rather to aldermen of towns -than to priests of the church. The word congregation can be applied equally -to a company of Christians and a company of Turks though the church is -indeed a congregation, yet every congregation is not the church. "Lyke -wysedom was there in the change of this word (charitie) into love. For -though charitie be alway love, yet is not, ye wote well, love alway -charitie." He blames that "greate arche heretike Wickliffe" for having -taken it upon himself to make a new translation of the Scriptures. "Whereas -ye hole byble was long before his dayes by vertuous and wel learned men -translated into ye English tong, and by good and godly people with devocion -and sobrenes wel and reverently red." He sees no reason why Scripture -should not be read in the vulgar tongue. Luther's books, however, should be -proscribed, "because his heresies be so many and so abominable;" a "ich and -tikling of vanite and vain glory has set hym besyde hys minde." He shows -that "it is a great token that the world is nere at an ende while we se -people so farre fallen fro God, that they can abide it to be content with -this pestilent frantike secte;" that "fayth may be without charitie, and so -fervent that it may suffer a payneful death, and yet for fault of charitie -not sufficient to salvacion." -{647} -He establishes that "princes be bounden to punish heretykes." He charges -heretics with being wont to perpetrate "outrages, and temporall harmes" -with "destroying Christe's holy sacramentes, pulling down Christ's crosse, -blaspheming his blessed saints, destroying all devocion." He contrasts -"Saynt Cypryane, Saynt Chrisostome, Saynt Gregory, and al the vertuous and -cunning doctours by rowe," with the doctors "of this newe secte, frere -Luther and his wyfe, frere Lambert and his wife, and frantike Tyndall." It -must be remembered that the excesses and seditions brought forth by the -Reformation in Germany were calculated to establish an association between -the ideas of religious reformer and of rebel; nor does the experience of -succeeding centuries go very far toward destroying this link. As a -statesman, therefore, if on no other ground, More was inclined toward the -display of an uncompromising severity. Nor was he alone in this tendency. -Both in England and on the continent, heresy was a crime punishable by law. -At the same time, there is no reason for thinking that More carried his -doctrines on that point into practice, as Fox, Burnet, and others have -asserted. This theory is based on a passage of Erasmus, which declares that -while More was chancellor no one was put to death in England for adherence -to the new doctrines. (Nisard.) In his apology, written after his fall, -More candidly exposes both his opinions and the facts of his -administration. He vindicates himself from the "lies neither fewe nor -small" which certain "blessed brethren" had industriously spread concerning -him. "Dyvers of them have said that of suche as were in my house while I -was chauncellour, I used to examine theym with tormentes, causynge them to -bee bounden to a tree in my gardeine, and there pituously beaten." "Of very -truth, albeit that for a greate robbery, or an heighnous murder, or -sacriledge in a church, I caused sometyme suche thynges to be done by some -officers of the marshalsie, with which orderynge of them by their well -deserved paine, and without any great hurt that afterward should sticke by -them, I founde out and repressed many such desperate wretches as elles had -not failed to have gone farther abrode, and to have done to many good folke -a greate deale much more harme." - -Only twice did he punish any heretic in this manner--a boy and a lunatic, -whose case he thus relates: - - "Another was one whiche, after that he had fallen into that frantik - heresies, fell soone after into plaine, open fransy beside; and albeit - that he had therefore bene put up in Bedelem, and afterward by beating - and corecion, gathered his remembrance to him, and begaune to come again - to himself, being thereupon set at liberty, and walkinge aboute abrode, - his olde fransies begaune to fall againe in his heade, and I was fro - dyvers good holy places advertised, that he used in his wandering about - to come into the churche, and there make many mad toies and trifles, to - the trouble of the good people in the divine service, and specially would - he be most busye at the time of most silence, while the priest was at the - secretes of the masse, about the levacion. ... whereupon I, being - advertised of these pageauntes, and being sent unto and required by very - devout, religious folke, to take some other order with him, caused him as - he came wanderinge by my doore, to be taken by the counstables and - bounden to a tree in the streete before the whole towne and ther they - stripped him with roddes therefore till he wared weary, and somewhat - longer; and it appeared wel that his remembrance was goode enoughe, save - that it went about in grasing till it was beaten home; for he could than - verie well reherse his fautes himselfe, and speake and treate very well, - and promise to doe afterward as well, and verylye, God be thanked, I - heare none harme of him now; and of al that ever came into my hand for - heresye, as helpe me God, saving, as I said, the sure keping of them, and - yet no so sure neither, but that George Constantine could stele away; els - had never any of them any stripe or stroke given them, so much as a - fylyppe on the forehead." - -{648} - -He also gives an amusing instance of the manner in which slanderous -accusations were fabricated against him. Simon Fryth, author of the -"Supplication of Beggars," charged More with having said that "his heresye -shoulde coste him the best blude in his body." More answers that: - - "Some truthe they might happe to heare, whereupon they myghte buylde - theyr lye. For so was it that on a tyme one came and showed me that - Frithe laboured so sore that he sweat agayne, in studieng and writing - against the blessed sacrament; and I was of trouth verie heavy to heare - that the younge fooly the felowe shoulde bestowe suche labour about suche - a develyshe woorke. For if that Fryth (quoth I) swete in laboring to - quench that faith that al true Christen people have in Christe's blessed - body and bloude, which all Christen folke veryly, and all good folke - frutfuly receive in the fourme of bread, he shal laboure more than in - vayne; for I am sure that Frith and al his felowes, with al the friendes - that are of theyr affiniti, shal neither be able to quench and put out - that faith, and over that if Frythe labour about the quenching thereof - till he sweate, I would some good friend of his shoulde showe hym that I - feare me sore that Christe wyll kyndle a fyre of fagottes for hym, and - make hym therin sweate the bloud out of his bodye here, and straight from - hence send hys soule for ever into the fyre of hell. Nowe in these wordes - I neyther ment nor meane that I would it wer so. For so help me God and - none otherwyse, but as I would be glad to take more labour, losse, and - bodelye payne also, then peradventure many a man would wene to winne that - yonge man to Christe and hys true faythe agayne, and thereby to preserve - and keepe hym from the losse and peryll of soule and body both." - -And in another part of the same treatise he declares that - - "as touching heretikes, I hate that vice of theirs, and not their - persons, and very faine would I that the one were destroied, and the - tother saved ... and if all the favour and pity that I have vsed among - them to theire amendement were knowen, it woulde I warrant you well and - plaine appere, whereof if it were requysite I could bring forth witnesses - more than men would wene." - -In these earnest words is reflected his innocence of persecution. These -apologies for his career as chancellor were written after his fall. - -In 1529, More had been made lord high chancellor of England. The new -dignitary had been sounded by the king concerning the matrimonial cause. -Although Sir Thomas excused himself from giving an opinion, on the plea -that he was no divine, he was evidently expected ultimately to concur in -forwarding the accomplishment of the king's wishes. But More was too candid -and unworldly to adopt a policy of self-interest. He had foreseen the -danger of his elevation, and in his opening speech had alluded to the sword -of Damocles. One evening he had confided to Roper that he would gladly be -tied up in a sack, and thrown into the Thames, if only there could be peace -on earth, unity in the church, and a good termination of the divorce -question. At last the decisive moment came, and Henry requested More to -take the proposed divorce into consideration. The chancellor, falling on -his knees, lamented his inability to serve the king in this matter with a -safe conscience; he had, he said, borne in mind the words uttered by his -majesty on More's first entering office, namely, first to look unto God, -and after God unto the king. Henry, concealing his vexation, expressed a -hope that More could serve him in other instances. - -Then Cranmer broached his plan, and the universities began to dust folios -and hold grave deliberations on the matrimonial cause. Not only Oxford and -Cambridge, but Paris, Anjou, Bruges, Orleans, Padua, Toulouse, summoned -their doctors, regents, and canons, to weigh and consider the important -question. There was "much turning and searching of bookes;" divine law, -civil law, were carefully discussed and examined. "There was in the realme -much preching, one lerned man holding against another," (Holinshed.) -Foreseeing the impending harvest of determinations and arbitraments, More -perceived that the king would marry Anne Boleyn at any cost. In May, 1532, -he tendered his resignation. Henry accepted it in an affable manner, and a -weight fell from More's heart--for the nonce he gave himself up to his -harmless gaiety. -{649} -Lady More lectured him severely for not having taken care of his pecuniary -interests when in office, and for relinquishing place through a selfish -love of ease, without thinking of the children. "Tilly vally, what will you -do, Mr. More?" cried Lady Alice; "will you sit and make goslings in the -ashes? it is better to rule than to be ruled." More, quietly turning to his -daughters, asked whether they did not see "that her nose standeth somewhat -awry." - -With calm dignity he proceeded to reduce his establishment; sent his jester -to the lord mayor; and consulted with his children on the best means of -avoiding the breaking up of the family. His income was little more than -£100 a year; Lady More must have been hard up for pin money wherewith to -buy gowns, coifs, and stomachers. He wrote to Erasmus that he had at last -obtained freedom from public business; and he had his epitaph inscribed in -the parish church of Chelsea. He was beginning to have a foreboding of -approaching danger; whether from the declining state of his health--he had -been liable, through much writing, to an "ache" in his breast--or his -acquaintance with the king's character, At the height of his friendship -with the monarch, when congratulated by Roper on the marks of favor he was -receiving, More had mournfully answered that if Henry, by beheading him, -could get one castle more in France, he would not scruple to do so. During -several nights, it is said, he had been sleepless under the influence of a -strange, haunting anticipation; he prayed for strength, his delicate frame -being averse to bodily pain--or, as he said, "his flesh could not endure a -fillip." - -In the mean while the king married Anne Boleyn; Cheapside ran with claret. -Sir Thomas received an order to attend the procession, with twenty pounds -to buy a gown; but he declined to be present. The king's displeasure began -to arise. More was much esteemed, had considerable influence, and his -prolonged opposition was anything but agreeable to Henry. More's enemies -began to cast about for a ground of accusation against him. The adventure -of the Maid of Kent furnished them with an opportunity. Elizabeth Barton -was a girl of cataleptic temperament, who had visions and uttered -prophecies. Unfortunately for herself and others, she meddled with politics -and inveighed against the king. More complained to Cromwell that he had -been accused of communicating with that "nun of Canterbury;" whereas he had -written to her, "Good madam, I will hear nothing of other men's matters; -and least of all of any matter of princes or of the realm." The poor "good -madam" was executed at "Tiburne." More's name had been included in the act -of attainder, and a royal commission was appointed to examine him. It soon -became apparent that the Maid of Kent's case had little to do with this -prosecution of Sir T. More, and that the real question at issue was, that -he should remember the king's former favors and give his consent to that -divorce which the hierarchy, parliament, and the universities had approved. -More answered, meekly but firmly, that he had hoped to hear no more of that -matter. In the Maid of Kent affair, his innocence was so evident that Henry -was obliged to yield to the pressure of the commissioners, who besought him -on their knees to dismiss More from the accusation. But More knew this was -only a reprieve. The commissioners had assured the king that they would in -time find another opportunity that would serve the royal turn better. "Quod -differtur non aufertur," answered More, when his "Megg" congratulated him -on the bill being withdrawn. There had been no chance of getting a verdict -against him. But a "meet matter" for his enemies to act upon was not long -in supervening. The succession to the crown for the issue of the new -marriage, and the king's ecclesiastical supremacy, became law. An oath of -allegiance was required. Sir T. More and Bishop Fisher were recusants. More -could not be brought to imply that the marriage with Catherine had been -illegal. -{650} -His innate nobleness made him very little anxious as to the consequences of -his opposition. The Duke of Norfolk gave him advice one day. "By the mass, -Mr. More, it is perilous striving with princes; therefore I would wish you -somewhat to incline to the king's pleasure, for, Mr. More, 'indignatio -principis mors est." We can imagine the sweet smile with which More -answered, "Is that all, my lord? then in good faith the difference between -your grace and me is but this, that I shall die to-day and you to-morrow." - -He was too brave and merry not to despise death; but, the day he was -summoned to Lambeth, he was afraid to face his family on his departure. -Whenever he went down the river, they used to accompany him to the boat and -be dismissed with kisses; but that morning he did not allow them to follow -him. With Roper he took boat to Lambeth. There the vicar of Croydon, and -many London clergy were sworn; after which proceeding, the reverend the -vicar, "Either for gladness or dryness, or else that it might be seen 'quod -ille notus erat pontifici,' went to my lord's buttery-bar and called for -drink, and drank 'valde familiariter.'" (Sir T. More's Letters.) Sancho is -ever near Quixote. Without blaming those who took the oath, More maintained -that his conscience would not be satisfied if he allowed himself to be -sworn. In vain did "my lord of Westminster" charge him to "change" his -conscience, because the great council of the realm had determined on -acknowledging the points at issue. More said his opinion was backed by the -general council of Christendom. He and Roper were committed to the Tower, -probably through the influence of Queen Anne, who was herself "behedded" a -few years afterward. - -And now his greatness showed itself in adversity, as it had before -brightened his prosperity. He had something worse than a _vultus -instantis tyranni_ to endure, namely, the expostulations of his wife. -Having obtained leave to visit him, she gave him a lecture in her -positivistic philosophy: "I marvel that you, who hitherto have been taken -for a wise man, will now so play the fool to lie here in this close, filthy -prison, and be content thus to be shut up among mice and rats, when you -might be abroad at your liberty, and with the favour and good-will both of -the king and his council, if you would but do as all the bishops and best -learned of this realme have done; and seeing you have at Chelsea a right -fair house, your library, your gallery, garden, orchard, and all other -necessaries so handsome about you, where you might, in the company of me, -your wife, your children, and household, be merry, I muse what a God's name -you mean here still thus fondly to tarry." His daughter Margaret, however, -proved a better comfort to him. She, too, attempted to persuade him to take -the oath; he playfully compared her to Eve, thinking more of his body than -his soul. She quoted all the instances of great doctors who had taken the -oath. At last she said that, like Cressida in Chaucer, she was at her wit's -end; what could she say more but that his jester had said, "Why does not he -take the oath? I have done so," and that she herself had taken it? More -than a year did he stay in that prison, to the detriment of his health. He -was then tried and found guilty. On his return from the trial, when he -landed at the Tower-wharf, his poor daughter rushed from the crowd and -kissed him frantically several times. One more letter did he write to her -with a coal. As he had once written, pecks of "cole" would not have -sufficed to express all his love for her. He expressed himself much -indebted to the king, who was sending him out of this wretched world. He -wanted to go on the scaffold in his best clothes, and sent the executioner -a piece of gold. On the platform he evinced that mixture of gayety and -piety which was characteristic of him. The structure being somewhat cranky, -"I pray see me up safe," he said, "and for my coming down, let me shift for -myself." -{651} -He then knelt down and said a psalm. He then addressed the executioner: -"Thou will do me this day a greater benefit than ever any mortal man can be -able to give me. Pluck up thy spirit, man, and be not afraid to do thy -office. My neck is very short; take heed, therefore, that thou strike not -awry, for saving thy honesty." When about to lay his head on the block, he -craved time to remove his beard, "as that had never committed treason." -"So, with great alacrity and spiritual joy, he received the fatal blow of -the axe, which, no sooner had severed the head from the body, but his soul -was carried by angels into everlasting glory." - -Margaret bought his head, enclosed it in a leaden box, and it was afterward -buried with her at Canterbury. In the nineteenth century, the head was -found, with the metal covering corroded away in front. (See Gentleman's -Magazine, 1837.) - -Dr. Lark, rector of Chelsea, and More's friend, was so influenced by More's -death that he soon after denied the supremacy, and was executed. More's -death made a deep impression on men's minds throughout Europe. When the -report of the execution reached the king, he looked steadfastly on Anne, -and said, "Thou art the cause of this man's death," and soon after retired -in sadness to his chamber. Scarcely, however, can readers of history -deplore a death which brought out the beauty of such a character. - ------- - - The Two Lovers of Flavia Domitilla. - - By Clonfert. - - - Chapter III. - - The Christian's Feast. - - -The large clepsydra in the atrium of the villa indicated the fourth watch -of the night, an hour corresponding at the winter solstice to one o'clock -in the morning, of the 8th of the Kalends, that is, the 25th of December. -The slaves had ended their merry-making and retired to rest, when Aurelian -and Sisinnius, led by Zoilus, took their way by a by-path over the fields -toward the Latin road. The path crossed the stream and wooded hill near the -villa. - -Standing on the further slope of the hill, they paused to view the city and -the surrounding country. The darkness of the early night had been relieved -by the rays of the moon. Her white disc was painted on the sky between the -luminous edges of the thin clouds, which were driven by the wind, as if in -review, before her face. On the earth beneath, moonlight and shadow pursued -each other over the woods and uplands. The palaces and monuments bordering -the Latin and Appian Ways showed at times as if they were roofed with -silver. Now and again her beams, stretching down like white bars between -the clouds, rested on the roofs, cupolas, and steeples of the distant city, -which stretched in illimitable magnificence before them, flashed out, and -the next moment faded like a mirage into indistinctness and shadow. The -lights in the streets and country villas flickered feebly "few and far -between." -{652} -The hum of life and business was not, as in the daytime, borne on the wind -to their ears from the metropolis, whose great heart, that in a few hours -would throb with the pulses of renewed activity through all its arteries, -was at rest, save only where the voice of the watchman or of the midnight -reveller disturbed its slumber. Turning toward the Appian Way, which for -fourteen miles was lined by a double row of monuments--homes for the -living and homes for the dead--the trees bowed and tossed their branches in -the fitful gusts like hearse-plumes above the tombs. In the lulls it was -heard wandering and moaning within the vaults and the _columbaria_; -[Footnote 233] so called because the ashes of the departed reposed in -bronze and earthenware urns, ranged in hundreds, tier over tier, as in the -cells of a dove-cote. The branches, dry and leafless, pointing their -skeleton fingers skyward and creaking dolefully, might well remind a Greek -or Roman imagination of imprisoned genii. And the melancholy wail of the -breeze might be mistaken for that of unearthly visitants weeping over the -remains of the dead. - - [Footnote 233: From _columba_, a dove.] - -Having delayed to survey this sombre scene, they continued their journey, -and soon reached the Latin road, along which they proceeded to the -Crossway, formed by it and the Appian Way about a quarter of a mile outside -the Capena Gate. The old walls built by Servius Tullius around the city -still remained; through these the gate opened between the Aventine and -Coelian hills, nearly a mile from the present entrance of the "Queen of -Highways" into the forum through the walls built subsequently by the -Emperor Aurelian. The Appian aqueduct, of which scarce a stone remains -to-day, rose before them from the ground some sixty paces from the gate, -and, travelling on high arches, emptied itself into the reservoir within -the walls. The lofty parapets of this gigantic structure, which carried the -water underground for eight miles, were marked in the moonlight against the -sky as if they had been cut from pasteboard. Turning their backs to the -gate and facing southward, they saw that great military highway, built by -and named after the Censor Appius four hundred years previously, as it -topped the undulations of the country until it was lost in darkness and -distance. Its pavement, made of solid blocks of basaltic lava, as the -fitful moonlight rested on its receding line, might by a stranger be -mistaken for the surface of a glancing stream. The death-like stillness of -the sepulchral monuments and of the mysterious _columbaria_, and the -motion of the cypress and other funereal trees interspersed among them, -contrasted with the living magnificence and luxury of the villas, temples, -and villages by which it passed. It was death beside life. The etymology of -the word _monuments_ [Footnote 234] proves that they were built -designedly beside the public roads to warn travellers of the goal at which -all their earthly journeyings would surely end. Thoughts like these passed -through the minds of the three companions; nor were they put to flight by -what followed. - - [Footnote 234: Monumentum, _moners mentem_, to warn the mind.] - -A funeral procession was issuing from the gate as they arrived at the -Crossway. They concealed themselves among the trees of the gardens known -for ages afterward as those of the poet Terence. Without being seen, they -observed the procession as it wended near them. In front of and at -intervals through it were slaves carrying torches, whose glare colored the -sky and the monuments on either side with a red glow. Musicians, playing -mournful strains on the flute, the pipes, and the horn, startled the -silence of the time and place. They were aided by mourning females hired to -chant the funeral song. After these came the mimics, directed by a -principal, who represented the life and character of the deceased by -imitations of his words and actions; slaves wearing the cap of freedom, as -a sign that they had been emancipated before his death, followed. -{653} -Some of these bore the images of himself and of his ancestors; others, the -civil and military crowns he had won, which proved him to have been -distinguished as a citizen and a soldier. The remains rested on an ivory -couch covered with drapery of purple and gold. Behind them were the -children of the deceased, the sons in black mourning, with heads veiled; -the daughters in white, with heads bare, and hair dishevelled. The quick -march of the procession, the restless flames of the torches, and the acting -of the mimics seemed strangely out of place with the sad occasion, and -music, with the dirge of the female mourners and the silence or suppressed -sobs of the children of the departed. It was another picture of life and -death beside each other--a union so frequent with the ancients. - -"There goes the funeral of Senecio," said Zoilus. - -"Herenius Senecio, the senator! What, did he too incur the imperial anger?" -asked Aurelian. - -"He wrote a life of the proconsul Priscus, at the request of the widow -Faunia." - -"Is it Priscus who was put to death for the poem in which he was suspected -to have caricatured under fictitious names the emperor's divorce from his -wife?" - -"The very same." - -"Senecio," said Sisinnius, "ought to have been taught by the fate of -Rusticus, who was executed for having written the life of Thrasea at the -request of Arria, Faunia's mother. But he was always outspoken and -headstrong in defence of friendship and truth. Hermogenes of Tarsus, who -met a like fate for a like offence, was another example to warn him." - -"Well, well," said Aurelian, "I do not wonder that Tacitus prefers to -drudge as a civil officer in a distant province to remaining at Rome, -although his great father-in-law Agricola, the conqueror of Britain, needs -him to cheer his sinking spirits; nor that Pliny keeps himself so quiet and -hidden." - -"It was reported that Pliny was to have delivered Senecio's funeral -oration," said Zoilus. - -"Pliny in the affair of Bebius Masia showed himself a man of courage. But -he has too much sense, I think, to do such an unnecessary thing in the -present state of the imperial temper," said Aurelian. - -"Yes, indeed, when we see the poetess Sulpicia in danger of her head for -her ode on the expulsion of the philosophers; when booksellers are -crucified; and when only those escape who, like Josephus, Juvenal, Martial, -and Quinctilian, lay the unction of flattery unblushingly on, it were -madness to attempt it. Alas!" continued Sisinnius, "are we not returning to -a worse barbarism than that of the iron age? Philosophy, history, and poesy -divine in exile, in prison, or in the tombs! Never was there an age that -had more, purer, or nobler names to inscribe on the roll of fame! And all -at the whim of one man who calls himself a god, and who thinks he proves -his divinity by having the road to the capitol crowded with the flocks to -be immolated to his statue!" - -"It is the story of arbitrary authority invested in individuals from the -monarch to the slave-owner, when its influence is not directed by humanity -or religion," said Aurelian. - -"Ay," interposed Zoilus, "and to the slave himself, who is by law allowed a -vicarious ownership (_dominium vacarium_) over others. The little -tyrant who has not the fulness of power is the worst; he always strives to -swell himself to the bull size, like the frog in the fable, and tramples on -the feelings where he cannot tread out the lives of his victims, just as -recklessly as the elephant in the arena tramples on the corns of the -gladiators. One of these, whom I know well to my cost, compassed the death -of Senecio, and is likely to bring red ruin to many others before he dies -himself." - -"Who is he?" asked Aurelian. - -{654} - -"Arthus, who has crept up from low life to high favor with the powers that -be." - -"Arthus!" exclaimed Sisinnius, "the poor wretch! whose suspiciousness and -unbridled impulsiveness of tongue and passion have left him without a -sincere friend in the profession, into which he has worked his upward way -without any education to fit him for it. He is only a craze of one idea; -every one secretly laughs at his assumption of rank, knowing his origin; at -his assumption of professional knowledge, knowing his Boeotic ignorance; -and at his assumption of power, knowing how he acquired it." - -"I can tell you, it is no laughing matter for the poor slaves, most of whom -are his own countrymen, whose very blood he is coining into stone for that -labyrinthine temple of which Domitian has permitted him to be the architect -and builder. A joke perpetrated by Senecio in the life of Crispus with -regard to this building is said to have angered him. Senecio compared the -temple to the Cretan labyrinth, and said the congregation would require a -thread to find their way out." - -"There was another cause of Arthus's hatred of Senecio. In early life he -proposed for the hand of Senecio's cousin. The first moment she saw him, -she afterward declared she would as soon marry one of the brick walls he -has since been building; because his heart, filled only with facts, -figures, and money, seemed as cold, hard, and bloodless as the bricks and -stones themselves. It is reported that she has since become a Christian. -Unfortunately this creature Arthus has somehow found access to Domitian's -ear, and manages with unsuspicious adroitness to have the first story about -those who displease him. Less cruel natures than Domitian's find it hard to -rise above prejudices that have once preoccupied their judgments." - -"Well, well, it is a sad state of things. The Christians have, I often -imagine, been sent in punishment for our having fallen away from the stern -virtues of our ancestors, as the locust-clouds are sent in the East. But," -continued Aurelian, "the less we say in this style the better, if we do not -wish to join Senecio in his voyage over the Stygian lake. Even here the -proverb may apply: 'Silvae habent aures.'" - -"Yes," said Sisinnius, "here we are at the beginning of the ancient tombs, -amid the mighty dead whose names are the morning-stars of our history!" - -They walked silently and passed the monument of Horatia. Of cut stone, it -was, after more than seven centuries, in good preservation: nay more, in -the nineteenth century, after twenty-seven hundred years, it is -comparatively untouched by the hands of time and weather. She had been -killed by her victorious brother, the last of the three Horatii, because -she wept for her betrothed, one of the Curiatii, slain by him in the -contest of Rome and Alba for superiority. The sepulchres of the Metelli, of -the Scipios, and of other noble families stood near the Cross road not far -from the gate. - -Pointing to these, Sisinnius spoke as if giving utterance to a train of -thought that had occupied his mind: - -"Where are they now the great, the noble, the heroic men, by whose martial -deeds and unselfish patriotism the foundations of Roman greatness were -placed? Is this all that remains of them--a hollow tomb raised as in -mockery over a little ashes, if even so much of them after five or six -hundred years be left? Alas! Aurelian, does not death make you sad to think -on it?" - -"Yes; and therefore I put it away, on the epicurean principle that it -increases the misery of the destiny that inflicts it on us." - -"Yet our ancestors did not take that view, and they have had repute for -wisdom. They built their tombs in public places to remind living -generations of the fleeting character of all things human. They placed a -horse's head over the inscriptions as a symbol that death is only the -commencement of another and a longer journey. -{655} -If the epicurean philosophy be true, they were deceived; but, if they were -right, we are wrong in turning our gaze away from death, which, alas! is a -terrible reality! Would it not be wiser to try and pierce the mystery of -that horse's head, to draw aside the veil that shrouds that journey from -our sight?" - -"Men like Plato, and Socrates, and Cicero, have endeavored to do so in -every age, and have failed. The great doubt, whether there be a hereafter -or not, still puzzles the world. How can we hope to remove it when these -giants fail? It is much better for our peace and happiness to follow the -common belief in elysium and in the gods, and to drown the thought of death -in forgetfulness, and to enjoy the pleasures of the present." - -"It is a hard alternative, especially when the insecurity of the present is -brought so strikingly before us by the passing away of men like Senecio and -Priscus, and those of whom we were speaking. To believe in elysium and the -gods is to rest our faith and hope on the creations of the poets. Enjoyment -of the present does not bring happiness; and, even if it did, when these -pleasures are over, (and we don't know how soon,) what is to follow? But -yesterday Senecio, whose funeral we have witnessed, swayed the senate by -his reason and eloquence. Does nothing of him remain now but the ashes -gathered from the pyre? Why have the generations gone before erected those -vast monuments, if all that is left be the dust in the urn? Fitter let it -be borne by the wind over the face of the earth, if no spirit remain to -take an interest in its preservation! Are the souls of the mighty dead, who -slumber in those tombs around, 'nothing but a name'? Like the blast which -bends the forest, and then, dispersed in air, is felt and heard no more? -Oh! my blood runs cold to think it! - -"And yet there is no certainty it is not so--no hope, after so many -attempts, of now obtaining it. Better, then, enjoy the present and leave -the future to fate," said Aurelian. - -"No hope, no certainty!" repeated Sisinnius twice over, "no hope, no -certainty! And death approaching with his inevitable lance set! It may be -to-day, it may be to-morrow. Oh! is it not a wretched destiny that keeps us -thus in the dark? We come we know not whence, we go we know not whither. -Like persons lowered into a deep pit, we see a little sky above, but our -gaze cannot penetrate on either side of us. Is there no delivery from this -state of prison and anguish? What wretchedness is equal to that of the last -sad moment? Who but the fool or madman, with such daily reminders of -earthly life's vanity and shortness, can be deaf to the approaching -footfalls of death?" - -They had now arrived at the valley extending to the left, and watered by -the fountain of Egeria. Here it was that the nymph dictated the laws to -Numa. The valley contained also a temple of the Camoenae, and a sacred -grove. At a little distance was a large village. The poet Juvenal complains -that in the reign of Domitian pompous marble had displaced the grass of the -vale and concealed the rock from which the water gurgled; and that the -fountain, the temple, and the wood were owned and occupied by Jewish -beggars: - - "Hoc sacri fontis nemus, et delubra locantur - _Judaeis_, quorum cophinus foenumque supellex. - Omnis enim populo mercedem penrtere jussa est - Arbor, et ejectis meudicat sylva Camoenis." - _Juv_. Sat. iii. - -Juvenal and the pagans of his time frequently confounded the Christians -with the Jews. But the acts of early martyrs, like those of St. Cecilia, -clearly show that the Jews alluded to in these verses were Christians, -perhaps converted from Judaism. The surmise of the Abbé Gueranger is most -likely true, that, when the Emperor Claudius banished "the Jews' from Rome -on account of their dissensions, the Christians also were forced to leave -the capital for a short time; but after their return many of them settled -in this place outside the walls, and occupied the village called _Vicus -Camaenarum_, where they seem to have rented the fountain as well as the -temple and grove. -{656} -Here they could dig vaults, open subterranean galleries wherein to bury -their dead, and to hide themselves in times of persecution. What confirms -this supposition is, that here within the bowels of the earth commence the -sombre galleries of the Christian catacombs. The statesmen and soldiers of -pagan Rome sleep the long sleep of ages above, in monuments rising to the -face of heaven, with all the surroundings of material greatness; while the -champions and martyrs of the church repose in their lowly niches beneath, -where a ray of sunlight never penetrates. What a contrast is here -symbolized, and how true! The pride of the world raising itself like -Lucifer to heaven, and the lowliness of the church bowing its head with -Christian humility, and submitting to be trampled in the earth! As it was -in the beginning, so it is, so it will be to the end. - -At this point of the road Zoilus paused to impress upon his companions the -rules by which they were to be guided. They were to pretend to be converts -to the faith. He had succeeded in convincing those who had guard of the -avenues to the Christian meeting-place that Aurelian and Sisinnius would -make open profession of the new religion but for the dangers with which -such a step would surround them and those dear to them; that they were -eager to be instructed privately as neophytes; and that they asked to be -admitted to the Christmas celebration in order to witness the ceremony by -which one so dear to them as Flavia Domitilla was about consecrating -herself to God. They did not wish, however, that Flavia or Theodora should -be aware of their presence or of their conversion. Zoilus, who had been -baptized by St. Polycarp at Smyrna, and who had made the Roman Christians -believe that he was a zealous member of the church, succeeded in convincing -them of the truth of his representations, and in obtaining admission for -Aurelian and Sisinnius to the feast. The visits of Clement to the house of -the latter, together with the conversion of Theodora and Flavia, rendered -these representations plausible. - -Not far from the Egerian valley is a semicircular underground chamber of -large dimensions. It was the only one, to which at this early time the name -of _cata-tomb_, (meaning a place _near the tombs_,) or -_catacomb_, (meaning a _deep_ and _low_ place, or place of -_temporary rest_,) was given. In after times the name has been applied -to all the cemeteries radiating from the Vatican and underlying the city -and the country for many miles. Some authors ascribe this chamber to a -pagan origin. However this may be, it presents interiorly the appearance of -a chapel much more spacious than most of those which have been dug out of -the Roman campagna. Opening into it is a room which is said to have been -occupied by many popes during the persecutions. In a corner of it there is -a pontifical throne in marble. A circular bench, also of marble, still -clings to its ruined walls; this is supposed to have been used by the -priests and other ministers. In its centre is an ancient altar, at the base -of which the orifice of a pit, or well, over which it was erected, is -visible. Twelve arched tombs built into the walls form a cincture round it. -In this well, according to an old tradition preserved and believed by St. -Gregory, the bodies of Saints Peter and Paul were hidden by the oriental -Christians, who attempted to steal these precious relics from the Roman -city, but were prevented by a thunder-storm. After having been transferred -thence to the Vatican grotto, they were a second time, in the reign of -Heliogabalus, brought back for preservation, and for a time to the same -place of concealment. - -Here, on the occasion of which we write, we find the chiefs of the -Christian church assembled. The rumors and near approach of persecution -induced Pope Clement to select it for the celebration of the feast. -{657} -Here they could better avoid suspicion: their coming and going would be -easily mistaken by outsiders for the visits of those whom curiosity or -affection drew to the pagan monuments. - -Many missionary churches in Asia, Africa, Gaul, and other countries had -sent delegates, who were now conversing with Pope Clement in the room next -the chapel. These delegates carried letters from the bishops and churches -by whom they were delegated; and, having set out long before the festival -and visited other churches on their way, they were able to give a faithful -report of the progress and condition of the faith in the countries through -which they journeyed. There was Andronicus, a priest of Corinth, who -brought the sad tidings of the apostle St. John's arrest at Ephesus. - -"Have you heard," said the pope, "when he is likely to be in Rome?" - -"No; but the galley in which he sailed left the port of Corinth two days -before my departure. Owing to the crowds coming to the _Saturnalia_ at -Rome, it was thought she was delayed at Ostium until after the festivities, -when he is to be brought before the emperor himself." - -"O my children! let us pray that God may soften the tyrant's heart, and -that this last golden link between our time and that of our divine Master -may not be yet taken away by martyrdom." - -"I have been told by one of the brethren who was in Ephesus on the day of -his arrest that the blessed John himself assured the faithful that he had -much yet to do and suffer before his hour would come." - -"Thanks and glory be to God for this glad tidings," fervently ejaculated -Clement. "We shall try, and, if possible, have an interview with him." - -The churches of Antioch and of Alexandria had also representatives in the -meeting. The latter see, founded by St. Mark, who had been commissioned by -St. Peter for that purpose, was described as being in a most flourishing -state. From Gaul had come the missionary priest Galbinus, who had travelled -through the Black Forest, and found many Christian communities among its -fastnesses and along the Rhine and Rhone. He had delayed for a week at -Marseilles, where he was entertained by Lazarus and Martha. Mary Magdalen -he had not met; but the fame of her penitential life in a solitude outside -of that city had spread far and wide, and filled the whole district with a -holy odor. From Marseilles he had journeyed by the coast until he reached -the Flaminian road. At the foot of the maritime Alps he had met many -Christians practising the evangelical counsels in seclusion and peace. Thus -the holy pope, through the delegates from the various churches, had full -and detailed information as to the condition, prospects, and number of the -faithful in the different regions of Christendom. - -There was one visitor who more than others riveted the attention of all. -This was Nicodemus, [Footnote 235] who had taken our Lord's body down from -the cross. He arrived later than the others. When he entered, he knelt to -receive Pope Clement's blessing; but the latter, embracing, kissed him on -the cheek, and said: - - [Footnote 235: It is very probable, says Tillemont, that Nicodemus - visited Rome toward the end of the first century.] - -"My father and friend! It is I who ought to receive yours. I have heard you -were in the city for some days. Why not have come sooner to visit us?" - -"Yes, holy father; [Footnote 236] I arrived in the city two days ago, and -received from the kindness of some of my own nation, who after the fall of -Sion came to reside in Rome, that hospitality and treatment which the -wearied traveller requires. The last persecution--for I was then -here--taught us all a lesson not to create suspicion by visiting -prematurely the locality in which the brethren meet or the presbyter -resides. Hence, though I had learned the secret of where you intended -celebrating the feast, I deemed it well to delay my visit to the eve of -it." - - [Footnote 236: "_Papa sancte_," a usual mode of addressing bishops - in the early ages.] - -{658} - -"Always cautious, Nicodemus," said Clement, alluding to the furtive night -visit paid by Nicodemus to our divine Lord; but he checked the smile that -played on his face, as he saw the tears rolling down the old man's cheeks. - -"Pardon, pardon, my friend and brother! I did not mean to say aught -painful." - -"Nor have you. But I am overcome, in spite of myself, whenever I remember -the eyes which beamed out upon me through the darkness of that night, and -the face so transcendently beautiful, so tenderly compassionate, so -profoundly sorrowful! That face and look are impressed here"--he laid his -hand upon his heart--"I always bear them about with me like precious -relics, which supply ample matter for my meditations. In the brightness of -the day those sorrowful eyes shine out, in the darkness of night that -beauteous face is luminous; in the desert and in the forum they alike are -my companions, as they shall be to the grave." - -He was silent. His eyes and thoughts seemed turned inward; the former as if -riveted with dazzled, loving gaze on some unseen object which wholly filled -the latter. After some moments, during which those present looked on in -wonder, he became conscious of their presence and slightly embarrassed. - -Clement, not seeming to notice the embarrassment, said: - -"What changes have taken place since you and I became acquainted first! -Having delayed beyond the midnight hour on Mount Calvary, I was brought by -blessed Paul, with whom I was then travelling, to your house. I regret that -altered circumstances and thickening clouds compel me to make a return of -hospitality in these poor quarters. All are welcome; none more so than -Nicodemus. I know all are satisfied while we have Him for whose love we -resign all near us under the clouds," He pointed and bowed reverently -toward the chapel, and then retired to prepare for the celebration of the -sacred mysteries. - -Meanwhile the eyes of all were fixed with curiosity on Nicodemus. His -countenance was of the most decided Jewish caste. His face bore the -wrinkles of over a hundred years; but his frame, like the sturdy oak whose -surface may be serried by ages, did not present the appearance of decayed -strength or health. - -The visitors and guests of Clement entertained themselves with anecdotes of -their respective missions; of the divers ways in which Providence had -enlightened them with the true faith; of the countries through which they -had preached, the people they had converted, the adventures they had met, -and the miracles by which God had aided and rescued them. A history such as -has never been, and cannot now be written, might be gathered from these -conversations. A great many, especially the younger portion, felt a wish to -question Nicodemus. They desired to hear from his own lips more of that -beautiful face and those shining eyes that affected his imagination so -much. They knew he referred to his nocturnal interview with the Redeemer; -but they longed to hear more. - -"Pardon me, venerable father," said Andronicus, with more courage than the -others. "We would like to hear from yourself the history of your first -interview with _him_. We do not ask through idle curiosity, but -because we love to hear every little thing about him." - -"That evening and night, my children--you will excuse the liberty one so -much older than yourselves takes in thus addressing you--that evening and -night will never leave my memory. It was summer time. I was strolling to -'drink the evening air' beyond the Taffa gate. The ringing laughter and -white garments of the young people, as they visited the springs outside the -walls, aided with the freshness and beauty of the atmosphere and scenery in -dispelling feelings of void and loneliness, which--I could not account for -it--had been for some months creeping over me. -{659} -I felt as if there were nothing in life to satisfy my heart. It was the -hour for the evening sacrifice; I heard the trumpets of the Levites ringing -out through the evening calm; and I saw the column of sacrificial smoke -rising up from the temple, like a pillar of sand in the desert, through the -clear air, until it was flattened by the far vault of heaven into fleecy -clouds, which hung about its summit like the frescoes of a Corinthian -capital. I stood to admire the beauty of its height and rounded -straightness, when I was struck by an unusual glow in the heavens. I saw -distinctly formed in the sky a golden crown, which seemed upheld over the -inner court of the temple by a chain of sparks, as if suspended from the -column of smoke. I was drawn toward the place; and after a quarter hour's -hurried walk found myself at the avenue leading up to the temple. I was -soon at the entrance, and, passing through the outer court, entered the -open one of Sacrifice, over which the crown appeared to rest. The incense -from the Levites' censers was ascending in curls about the column of -sacrificial smoke like a binding of white ribbon about a black column. The -court and side galleries were crowded. I lost sight of the golden crown; -and began to fancy it was some play of imagination working on the sunset -colors. I sought a remote corner of the hall, and, feeling a peculiar -influence over me, bowed profoundly in the depths of my own soul before the -majesty of Jehovah. Raising my eyes toward the smoking altar, I was seized -with awe and terror in beholding the self-same crown resting over the head -of a worshipper, who prayed in the shadow of a pillar. When the ceremony -was over, I managed to get a glimpse of the face, which I recognized as -that of Jesus of Nazareth. His eyes overflowed with tears. I yearned in my -heart toward him by an almost invincible impulse; but I was afraid of being -seen speaking to one so humble and so suspected. I waited and watched him -on his way home. I followed him in the dusk as he hurried along a street, -which I afterward saw him mark with footprints in his own blood. Turning -suddenly at the cross formed by the road from the palace of Herod the -Ascalonite and that now known as the 'Dolorous Way,' he addressed me: - -"'What do you seek, Nicodemus?' - -"I was startled by the sound of my own name, not dreaming that he knew it; -and I glanced hurriedly up and down the arms of the Crossway to see if any -one were within ear-shot. - -"'Be not alarmed,' he said, in a voice which fell with velvet softness on -mine ear. 'If you wish aught of me, enter here.' And he led the way to an -humble house on the street to Calvary. There were two men, one young, with -a cheek of downy softness, and the other middle-aged, with beard of -bristling gray and fiery eye, awaiting him. - -"'Rabbi!' they both exclaimed with glad surprise; but they hesitated when -they saw me. For, as I afterward learned, they both recognized me as a -member of the Jewish council, and therefore set me down as an enemy of -their Master. - -"'Peter,' he said, 'John and you will retire to another room. This man -wishes to speak to me alone.' - -"'But, Rabbi,' said Peter impulsively, 'do you know that he is one of--' - -"'Peter! _I_ knew him before I saw him. Do as I direct.' And Peter -with reluctance left the room. - -We were alone. Regarding me with a look which seemed to penetrate my whole -being to the most hidden secrets and littleness of my soul, he again asked: - -"'What do you seek, Nicodemus?' - -"'Rabbi!' I ventured to say, subdued as I was by the mild radiance of those -piercing eyes, 'we all know you are from God, for no one can work the -wonders you perform if God be not with him. I seek knowledge of the kingdom -that is promised.' - -{660} - -"'Amen, amen!' he answered solemnly, 'I say to you, no one can see that -kingdom who is not born anew of water and the Holy Spirit.'" Here Nicodemus -related the conversation the substance of which is recorded in the third -chapter of St. John's gospel. - -"At parting," continued Nicodemus, "I told him that, if at any time I could -be of service. I would be glad to render it. I shall never forget the -answer: 'My hour is not yet come. When it is, your charity shall not be -forgotten. It will be your office to clothe for the last time the nakedness -of this temple!' He pointed to himself. I did not then know his meaning: -but, when I saw his bloodless body on his blessed mother's lap, and had the -happy privilege of preparing it for burial, I remembered and understood his -words." - -"I have heard a varied account of our Lord's personal appearance," said -Damian, one of the missionaries, an Irishman, [Footnote 237] or, as the old -annalists have it, a _Scotus_ by birth. "My venerated master, Joseph -of Arimathea, who had many opportunities of seeing him, said that he at one -time wore on his sacred humanity all the charms of godlike beauty, and at -another presented in appearance almost the opposite extreme?" - - [Footnote 237: _Scotia_, the ancient name of Ireland. In the reign - of Domitian an Irish prince was a guest at the court. Joseph of - Arimathea is said to have preached the gospel in the British Isles. At - this time Britain was first discovered to be an island.] - -"I remember distinctly the night I saw him in the court of the temple. I -knelt beside him; and in the glare of the many lights saw every line and -undulation of the golden ringlets that floated down his neck and shoulders. -They were not of one color. At the summit they glowed with more than -star-like brilliancy, which faded into other dazzling hues reflected from -each undulation to their extremities. They talk of the colors of the -rainbow; these were all exhausted in the surpassing loveliness of that -noble head, above which the air-formed crown rested like a glory. When I -saw his face as he rose from his knees, though sad in its expression as -fancy in its furthest flight could paint it, it beamed with a beauty such -as lover's eye never invested the beloved with, such as I shall never see -until I gaze on it again, as I hope, in that kingdom, where, after God's -increated beauty, it increases the happiness of the glorified to behold it. -Once again I saw him. But, oh! how changed the human beauty of that face -divine and those golden ringlets. They were matted in uncombed confusion -with dried and drying clots of blood! The face was disfigured and ugly. I -could scarcely imagine him the same person I had met in the court of the -temple. These different appearances under different circumstances will no -doubt account for the varying descriptions of him given by those who saw -him." [Footnote 238] - - [Footnote 238: Tradition is divided as to our Lord's personal - appearance; some of the holy fathers describe him as a specimen of - manly beauty; others say the contrary. We have borrowed from the letter - of a Roman officer then in Judea.] - -During the recital the old man's cheeks were wet with tears and his voice -often trembled. - -It was now after two o'clock, the hour appointed for the commencement of -the celebration. - -St. Justin, in his first apology to the Antonines, describes the manner in -which the Christians celebrated their Sundays and other feasts. They met -before sunrise and sang a hymn in praise of the Redeemer; then lessons from -the Old and New Testaments were read, with the addition of prayers for the -wants of the faithful and the conversion of the unbelievers; the presiding -presbyter, who is a bishop or a priest, addressed the congregation; and -finally, taking bread, blessed and brake it, saying, '_This is my -body;_' and in like manner he blessed and consecrated the chalice, -saying, '_This is the cup of my blood._' The saint who was living at -the period of which we write states the doctrine of the real presence and -of the sacrifice as clearly as words can express them. - -Clement, with his assistant deacon and subdeacons, sat in front of the -altar. On the seats on each side were Nicodemus, Andronicus, Damianus, and -the other clergy and missionaries. -{661} -Aurelian and Sisinnius were astonished to observe that their acquaintance -and friend Clement was the chief in the Christian assemblage; and that his -principal minister, in fact, his attendant deacon, was Vitus, the young -officer of the imperial household, who had made himself so remarkable the -night of the emperor's feast. But their amazement was doubly increased -when, after the clergy had taken their seats, a procession of females -veiled in black emerged from a side-door and knelt before Clement, opposite -the centre of the altar. In front were two matrons, and between them the -slender figure of a younger female, whose head and shoulders were concealed -by a white veil. Aurelian's breath came thick and fast; Sisinnius, too, was -excited. But Zoilus by a significant pressure restrained any open -manifestation of their feelings. - -The hymn chanted was composed specially by one of the brethren for the time -and feast. It was as follows: - - Christmas Hymn. - - The flocks lay on the midnight plains, - Where Jacob tended his of old, [Footnote 239] - Where David woke his earliest strains - And sang the Lion of Judah's fold, - _Gloria, gloria, gloria in excelsis Deo!_ - - [Footnote 239: The plains of Bethlehem, where Jacob - had tended the flocks of his father-in-law, - and David those of his father.] - - When suddenly the skies grew bright, - And angel choirs in countless throng, - With flashing wings, lit up the night, - And chanted, as they passed along, - _Gloria, gloria, gloria in excelsis!_ - - "Now glory be to God on high, - And peace on earth to fallen man;" - With star-like clearness through the sky, - 'Twas thus the angel anthem ran, - _Gloria, gloria, gloria in excelsis!_ - - We saw them by the new star's light - Above the stable where He lay; - We watched them through the livelong night, - And through the heavens we heard them say, - _Gloria, gloria, gloria in excelsis!_ - - -After the hymn had been sung and the lessons from the sacred Scriptures had -been read, the pope addressed the assembly in earnest words. He spoke of -the mystery of the incarnation and the birth of the Redeemer, by which the -promises made to the patriarchs and prophets were fulfilled. He said that -there were amongst them that night those who, during his earthly life, had -conversed with the "Word made flesh." He pointed out Nicodemus, who had -taken the lifeless body of the Master down from the cross, and who had the -singular privilege of seeing Christ arisen in his glorified humanity. "We, -therefore," he concluded, "have no reason to repine, for we know in whom we -trust. We may be poor in subjection, exposed to persecution. The -amphitheatre and the beasts, the prison, the rack, and other tortures may -await us. But we are not like those who have no hope, no security of the -unseen hereafter. We depend on that love which induced him to allow himself -to be nailed in agony on the cross, and, what is more, to be yoked, as it -were, not only for time, but for eternity, to a body of flesh and blood -like ours. That love is the guarantee that he will use his power to raise -us up as he has promised, if it be our happy lot to 'confess him before -men' by the shedding of our blood. And of his power how can we doubt? He -who, when dead himself, yet was able to raise himself from the tomb up to a -glorious and impassible existence, has power, now that he is seated in -glory at the Father's right hand, to do the same for us. Let us not be sad, -then, like those who have no hope. Let us gird ourselves for the contest -before us." And he proceeded to strengthen his audience by showing how -little the short sufferings of time were when balanced by the weight of -glory to follow for ever. He then continued the ceremonies. As he -approached the consecration, Aurelian and Sisinnius, despite the thoughts -that engaged their minds, were struck by the rapt devotion and fervent -prayers of the crowd of worshippers in the body of the chamber. They -themselves had taken their place behind so as not to be observed; Zoilus -had arranged this. Between them and the altar there was a large and motley -gathering: slaves, plebeians, and some whose dress belonged to the rank of -Roman knights; Jews, Greeks, and barbarians; men of different colors, -races, and countries bowed before the altar and were animated by one -spirit. -{662} -There was no distinction, save only that shown in the separation of the men -from the women on the two sides of the chapel. The words of consecration, -pronounced in a half-audible voice, fell ominously on the ears of Aurelian. -"_Hoc est CORPUS meum._" Whose body? he asked himself. "_Hic est -calix SANGUINIS mei._" Whose blood was contained in that cup? Were not -those vague rumors true about the murder of infants in those Christian -meetings? Alas! it was horrible to think that his own beloved Flavia had -been entrapped and was now a sharer in those bloody orgies. But he would -rescue her, or lose his fortune or his life in the effort. Different -somewhat were the reflections of Sisinnius. The words of Clement had -touched in his heart a chord which still vibrated with a longing to hear -more. After all, had these men solved the mystery of death and of the life -beyond the grave? - -After the full completion of the sacrifice by the communion of the -celebrant, Clement resumed his seat in front of the altar, with his face to -the people. The golden plate which bound his temples flashed in the -lamplight, and reminded many of Moses after his descent from the mount, -with the rays beaming from his forehead. The three females, who had knelt -during the ceremonies, now stood before the pope. The two matrons were -turned sideways toward the congregation as they lifted the veil from the -head of the central figure. In one of these Sisinnius recognized his own -wife; and in the other a member of the imperial household, Priscilla, who -had so gently restrained Vitus on the night of the emperor's feast from -drawing the sword from his scabbard as the words fell from the stage: - -"Domitian! Domitian! Beware! Beware!" - -Aurelian's worst fears were confirmed as he saw, when the white veil was -lifted, the beautiful features of Flavia Domitilla! But Zoilus kept beside -him. - -"My daughter!" said Clement, addressing Flavia, "have you duly and fully -considered the step you propose taking?" - -"Yes, father!" she answered, in a low, tremulous voice. - -"But is there no other love to divide your heart from Him whom you propose -espousing? Have you not pledged your troth and allegiance to another?" - -"I did, when my eyes were shut to the eternal beauty of Him who has since -revealed himself to me. If other love I have had, I now uproot it from my -soul. I only ask to be permitted to devote myself to the service of Him -whom my heart has too lately known, too lately loved. All other allegiance -I hereby renounce." - -"In the name, then, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I -receive you as the spouse of him who has loved you from the beginning." He -replaced the white veil upon her head; and, receiving a ring from Vitus, -who stood beside him opposite Flavia, placed it on her finger. Then he -administered to her the most holy sacrament. A smile played like a ray of -sunshine over her countenance, which manifested the deep and overflowing -happiness that welled upward from her soul. - -Aurelian trembled like a reed as he heard her recall her promises to -himself. But she was not mistress of her actions, he reasoned. Had he not -seen her drugged with that unholy flesh and blood which were given her? -Vitus, he thought, had so far succeeded; for was not he the only one -present to whom she could be thus wedded? Zoilus watched his companions -closely; and, when the assembly was dismissed, hurried them away by the -private entrance. - ------- - -{663} - - Under The Violets - - - Under the violets blue and sweet, - Where low the willow droops and weeps - Where children tread with timid feet - When twilight o'er the forest creeps - She sleeps--my little darling sleeps. - - Breathe low and soft, O wind! breathe low - Where so much loveliness is laid; - Pour out thy heart in strains of woe, - O bird! that in the willow's shade - Sing'st till the stars do pale and fade. - - It may be that to other eyes, - As in the happy days of old, - The sun doth every morning rise - O'er mountain summits tipped with gold, - And set where sapphire seas are rolled; - - But I am so hedged round with woe, - The glory I no more can see. - O weary heart that throbbest so! - Thou hast but this one wish--to be - A little dust beneath the tree. - - I would thou hadst thy wish to-day, - And we were lying side by side - With her who took our life away - That heavy day whereon she died-- - O grave! I would thy gates were wide! - ------- - -{664} - - From The Lamp. - - An Irish Saint. [Footnote 240] - - [Footnote 240: Montalembert's Monks of the West.] - -It is consoling in these gloomy days to think of the time when Ireland was -the Island of Saints, and gloried in the patronage of St. Patrick, St. -Bridget, and St. Columbkill. - -It is to a foreigner that we owe the biography of St. Columbkill--named -"Columba" from the Dove of Peace, and "kill," from the many cells or -monasteries that he founded. He was descended, says Montalembert, from one -of those noble races in Ireland whose origin is lost in the night of -ages--the Nialls or O'Donnells of Tirconnel, who were monarchs of Ireland -from the sixth to the twelfth century. The child was instructed in religion -by the priest who had baptized him, and the legends tell of angels who -watched over him from his birth; and they say that he asked familiarly of -his guardian angel if all the angels were as bright and young as himself. -From the house of the priest he was sent to the monastery of St. Frinan at -Clonard, where he studied and labored like the rest, and, though a prince, -he ground the corn they ate. One of his companions, afterward a saint, was -angry at the influence which Columba naturally possessed over the rest; but -an angel appeared to him, and showed him the hatchet of his father, the -carpenter, bidding him remember that he had only left his tools, but that -Columba left a throne to enter the monastery. Clonard, says Montalembert, -was vast as the monastic cities of the Thebais, and 3000 Irish students -learnt there from the "Master of Saints." Among the crowds who came to -learn was an aged bard, who was a Christian. He asked St. Frinan to teach -him, in return for his verse, the art of cultivating the soil. Columba was -a poet, and studied with the bard. One day a young girl, pursued by a -robber, was murdered at their feet, and Columba foretold his death, and was -renowned through the island as a saint. He was ordained a priest in 546, -and became, when scarcely twenty-five, the founder of monasteries, of which -thirty-seven are reckoned in Ireland alone. The most ancient of these was -in the forest of Durrow, or the Field of Oaks, where a cross and well yet -bear the name of Columba. It stood in Clenmalire, now in King's county; and -the noble monastery, as Bede calls it, became the mother of many others; so -that Dermach as well as Hy became nurseries for the hundred monasteries -founded by Columba. It has been said that St. Patrick had kindled such a -flame of devotion that the saints were not satisfied with monastic life -without retiring to the solitude of the surrounding forests, and there, -under the canopy of the vast oaks, which had for ages possessed the -wilderness, they found a more silent and solemn cloister. Such had been the -monastery of St. Bridget at Kildare, and such was Durrow; and in the forest -of Calgachus, in his native country, Columba built Derry, in a deep bay on -the sea which separates Ireland from Scotland. There he dwelt, and he would -not permit one of the oaks to be felled unless it was injured by age or -storms, and then it was used as fuel for the stranger or the poor. Here he -wrote poems, of which, says Montalembert, only the echo has reached us. The -following verses might be written by his disciples, but they are in the -most ancient Irish dialect, and perhaps convey the thoughts, it not the -words, of Columba: - - "Had I all countries where the Scottish tribes - Have made their dwelling, I would choose a cell - In my own beauteous Derry, which I love - For its unbroken peace and sanctity. - There, seated on each leaf of those old oaks, - I see a white-winged angel of the sky. - O forests dear! home and cell beloved! - O thou Eternal in the highest heaven! - From hands profane my monasteries shield, - My Derry and my Durrow, Rapho sweet, - Drumhorne in forests prolific. Swords, and Kells, - Where sea-birds scream and flutter o'er the sea, - Sweet Derry, when my boat rows near the shore, - All is repose and most delicious rest." - -{665} - -There are traces of the saint in these beloved foundations: among the ruins -of Swords are still seen the chapel of St. Columba, and a round tower and -holy well, but not the missal written by himself and given to the church. -We have the rule he wrote for the monasteries, but it is said to have been -borrowed from the oriental monasteries. He founded Kells in 550, and -dedicated it to the Blessed Virgin. St. Columba's devotion was not confined -to his own monasteries; he loved that founded not long before by St. -Eudacus in Arran, the Isle of Saints: - - "Arran, thou art like sunshine, and my heart - Yearns on thee in thine Ocean of the West; - To hear thy bells would be a life of bliss; - And, if thy soil might be my last abode, - I should not envy those who sleep secure - Beside St. Peter and St. Paul. My light, - My sunny Arran! all my heart's desire - Lies in the Western Ocean and in thee!" - -There are eleven Irish and three Latin poems said to be written by St. -Columba, and one of these is in praise of St. Bridget, who was living when -he was born. Columba was not only a poet himself, but the friend of the -bardic order, who held from Druidic times so high a rank in society, and -who frequented monasteries as well as palaces. Columba received even the -wandering bards of the highways into his monasteries, and especially in one -which he founded in Loch Key, which was afterward the Cistercian House of -Boyle. He employed them to write the annals of the monastery, and to sing -to the harp before the community. He loved books as well as poetry; and his -passion was transcribing manuscripts which he collected in his travels, and -he is said to have made with his own hand three hundred copies of the -gospels or psalter. One of these remains. It is a copy of St. Jerome's -translation of the four evangelists, and an inscription testifies that he -wrote it in twelve days. He was once refused by an aged hermit the sight of -his books, and the legend says that, in consequence of his anger, the books -became illegible at the hermit's death. The anger of Columba about another -manuscript led to more important consequences--his own conversion from a -literary monk to an ascetic missionary. While he visited his old master, -St. Frinan, he shut himself up by night in the church to make a secret copy -of the psalter. His light was seen, and the abbot claimed possession of the -copy. Columba appealed to his kinsman, the supreme monarch Dermot, who was -the friend of monks; for, when an exile, he had found a refuge in the -monastery of St. Kieran, the schoolfellow of Columba, which they both had -built in an islet of the Shannon, and which became Clonmacnoise. Dermot -decided that the copy belonged to the abbot. Columba was indignant. The -murder of a prince of Connaught, whom he had protected, increased his anger -against Dermot, and he foretold his ruin. His own life was in danger, he -fled toward Tirconnel, and the monks of Monasterboys told him that his path -was beset. He escaped alone, and passed through the mountains, singing as -he went his song of confidence; and, as tradition says, these verses will -protect all who repeat them on their journeys: - - "I am alone upon the mountain, O my God! - King of the sun! direct my steps, and guard - My fearless head among a thousand spears; - Safer than on an islet in a lake - I walk with thee; my life is thine to give - Or to withhold, and none but thou canst add - Or take an hour from its appointed time. - What are the guards? they cannot guard from death. - I will forget my poor and peaceful cell, - And cast myself on the world's charity; - For he who gives will be repaid, and he - Who hoards will lose his treasure. God of life. - Woe be to him who sins! The unseen world - Will come when all he sees has passed away. - The Druids trust to oaks and songs of birds: - My trust is in the God who made me man, - And will not let me perish in the night. - Him only do I serve, the Son of God, - The Son of Mary--Holy Trinity, - The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, with him - Is my inheritance; my cell - Is with the monks of Kells and Holy Moen." - -{666} - -Columba reached his country, and stirred up his clan, the Hy Nialls of the -north, against Dermot, and the Hy Nialls of the south; and with the aid of -the king of Connaught, whose son had been slain, Dermot was defeated, and -fled to Tara. The victory was attributed to the prayers and fasts of -Columba, and the manuscript which had caused this civil war became a -national relic with the O'Donnells. It was a Latin psalter, and was -enclosed in a portable altar, and carried by a priest into all these -battles, and has been miraculously preserved to the present times. - -But in the midst of his triumphs, Columba himself was conquered. He felt -the pangs of remorse, and suffered the reproaches of the religious. He was -summoned to a synod at Tailtan, and condemned, when absent, for having shed -Christian blood. But Columba had always shared the contests of his clan, -and, though a monk, was still a prince of the O'Donnells. He went to the -synod which had condemned him unheard, to dispute their decision. When -Columba entered, the abbot Brendan, founder of Berr, rose up and gave him -the kiss of peace. All wondered, but the abbot said: "If you had seen, as I -did, the fiery column and the angels who preceded him, you would have done -the same. Columba is destined by God to be the guide of a nation to -heaven." The excommunication was reversed, and the sentence of Columba was, -that he should convert as many heathens as he had caused Christians to die -in battle. Columba was safe, but not at rest; he went from desert to -desert, and from monastery to monastery, to seek some holy teacher of -penance. One hermit reproached him as the cause of war. - -"It was Diarmid," he replied. - -"You are a monk," said the hermit, "and should be patient." - -"But," said Columba, "it is hard for an injured man to repress his just -anger." - -He went to Abban, founder of many monasteries, one of which was called the -Cell of Tears. This meek soldier of Christ had often parted warriors in -battle and gone unarmed to meet a pagan brigand, whom he converted to be a -Christian and a monk. Columba asked him to pray for those whose death he -had caused, and Abban told him their souls were saved. He then sought St. -Molaisse, who was renowned for his study of the Holy Scriptures, and whose -monastery is yet traced in the isle of Inishmurray, on the coast of Sligo. -The stern solitary renewed the sentence of the synod, and added that of -exile for life from his too beloved country. Columba obeyed. He told his -warlike kinsmen, the Nialls of Tirconnell, that an angel had bidden him go -into exile, on account of those whom they had slain on his account. None of -them opposed the sentence, and twelve disciples determined to follow him. -One was Mochouna, prince of Ulster. Columba refused at first the voluntary -sacrifice, but yielded at last; and the devoted band left Ireland for ever. - -It was in 563 that Columba left Ireland. Some say that he had offended King -Diarmid by the severity with which he reproved vice. This is not the reason -given by Adamnan, who succeeded him in his monastery of Hy, and left a -collection of records, written at the end of the seventh century, which -reveals the intention of the heroic apostle; and, as it contains facts -related by competent witnesses, this precious relic of antiquity is more -valuable than a well-arranged biography. It must have been from the -traditions of his monastery that he describes the saint, who was by nature -so warlike and impatient, as retaining a tender and passionate love for his -country, and a sympathy with all his national habits, while he quitted -Erin, in expiation of the crime to which that love had led him. Columba did -more than this; he sacrificed his poetic tastes and learned pursuits to -convert not only the half-Christian Dalirads, who had early left Erin for -Scotland, but more especially the heathen Picts of the North, the -descendants of the brave opponents of Agricola under Galgacus, who were not -of his own Milesian race. - -{667} - -St. Columbkill was forty-two when he left his country in a wicker coracle -covered with leather, in which he trusted himself with his twelve -disciples, confiding solely in God, to brave the tempests and the enormous -waves of the sea which parts the two countries, with only the light of -faith and the strength of prayers to guide them through the rocks and -whirlpools which beset the misty archipelago of isles lying below the -mountains and deep bays, or fiords, of Lochaber. Adamnan describes his -Irish tonsure, which showed an Eastern rather than a Roman teaching; the -top of his head shaven, and his hair hanging down his back; his majestic -countenance, whose pride was softened only by religion; his princely -features, whose severity was mingled with a cast of irony; and his voice, -whose tone commanded while it penetrated the heart, so that it is -considered to have been one of the most miraculous of his gifts. Thus he -braved the future, trusting in the simplicity of charity for safety in a -savage land and savage tribes, to whom he brought the knowledge of truth -and morals and the hope of heaven. His fiery temper, and the courage that -fitted him for a soldier, and the genius which marked him for a poet or an -orator, were devoted to the conversion of hostile chiefs; and the violence -of his own feelings enabled him better to influence the people, while it -was softened by the great sorrow of his life, the exile from his country. -With a heart yearning for Erin and its noble clans, he reached the desolate -island of Oronsay; and, ascending the highest part of the rock, he saw in -the south the distant mountains of Dalreida. He rejected the consolation, -and left the island for Iona. Then, finding that he could not from its -highest point see the country he had abandoned, he fixed there his place of -exile, and a heap of stones yet marks the spot where he discovered that the -sacrifice was complete, and it is still called the Farewell to Ireland. - -The island of Hy is low though rocky, and not a tree nor bush can live -there; for not only do the winds sweep over it, but the very spray of the -Atlantic moistens it with salt showers. It lies amid the islets on the -coast of Morven, already celebrated by Ossian; Staffa and its basaltic -columns are on the north, and Mull with its lofty mountains on the south. -Barren islands lie on every side, separated by deep channels; and so narrow -are the bays which run up between the mountains of the mainland that the -water becomes a lake and the land a peninsula. Forests then clothed their -sides; and the clouds, which almost always hang on their summits, fall and -rise above the precipices and waterfalls of that lofty coast, peopled by -unrecorded emigrants from Erin, whence Ossian had gone to Tara, and Fingal -had made war and peace with the kindred tribes of Inisfail. - -It was within sight of this repulsive field of labor, where his penance was -to convert souls, that Columba and his missionaries founded a monastery -destined to be the centre of religion and civilization to Europe. The first -building was of twisted boughs inlaced with ivy, and it was many years -before they cut down oaks in the forest of Morven to make the wooden -edifices in use till the twelfth century. Thus Columba prepared for the -future, but he had not forgotten the past. He felt the bitterness of exile, -and wrote verses, in which he prefers "death in Erin to exile in Albania;" -and then, in a plaintive but resigned tone, he sings: - - "Alas! no more I float upon thy lakes - Or dance upon the billows of thy gulfs, - Sweet Erin; nor with Comgall at my side - Hear the strange music of the wild swan's cry! - Alas that crime has exiled me, and blood-- - Blood shed in battle--stains my guilty hand! - My guilty foot may not with Cormac tread - The cloisters of my Durrow, which I love; - My guilty ears may never hear the wind - Sound in its oaks, nor hear the blackbird's song, - Nor cuckoo, and my eyes may never see - The land so loved but for its hated kings. - 'Tis sweet to dance along the white-topped waves, - And watch them break in foam on Erin's strand; - And fast my bark would fly if once its prow - To Erin turned and to my native oaks; - But the great ocean may not bear my bark - Save to Albania, land of ravens dire. - My foot is on the deck, my bleeding heart - Aches as I think of Erin, and my eyes - Turn ever thither; but while life endures-- - So runs my vow--these eyes will never see - The noble race of Erin; and the tear - Fills my dim eyes when looking o'er the sea - Where Erin lies--loved Erin, where the birds - Sing such sweet music, and the chant of clerks - Makes melody like theirs. O happy land! - Thy youths are gentle, thine old men are wise, - Thy princes noble, and thy daughters fair. - Young voyager, my sorrows with thee bear - To Comgall of 'eternal life,' and take - My blessing and my prayer, a sevenfold part, - To Erin; to Albania all the rest. - My heart is broken in my breast; if death - Should come, it is for too much love of Gaels." - -{668} - -Time never effaced this passionate regret, and, as the legend says, when he -was aged, he foretold that a wearied bird would be cast on Iona, and he -bade his monks feed it till it could return to Ireland. But these regrets -strengthened instead of dissipating his missionary ardor; and, while his -natural disposition was unchanged, he became the model of penitents and -ascetics and the most energetic of abbots. He received strangers and -converted sinners. He established a rule for his monks, and dwelt himself -like a hermit, lying on the bare ground upon a bed of planks. There he -prayed and fasted, and there he continued to transcribe the sacred text, -and to study the Holy Scriptures, so that three hundred copies of the -gospel were written by his hand. Crowds of pilgrims visited him there, and -many did penance; but one in particular received from him the same penance -he was performing himself, an exile to the isle of Tiree and a banishment -from the sight of Columba. - -St. Columba was among his kindred in Lochaber. The Scots were a Dalradian -colony, allies of the O'Neills; and he was the kinsman of their king, -Connall, and from him he obtained a grant of the island of Iona, and he -labored among these halt-formed Christians. Then, as if he would break even -this last tie to Erin, he became the apostle of the Picts, by descent -Scythians, by habits savages and heathens. Unconquered by Romans or -Christians, they dwelt in glens, inaccessible except by water, and -deserved, like their ancestors, the description of Tacitus, as dwelling at -the extremity of the earth and of liberty; and to them he devoted the -remaining thirty-four years of his life. He crossed the mountains which -divide the Scots from the Picts, and reached the chain of lakes which -extends from sea to sea. He was the first to launch his fragile boat upon -Loch Ness, and he penetrated to the fortress of their king, Brude, which -occupied a rock north of Inverness. The king closed the doors of his -fortress; but Columba made the sign of the cross, the doors rolled back on -the bolts, and Columba entered as a victor. The king trembled in the midst -of his council, and rose to meet the missionary; he spoke to him with -respect, and became his friend, though it is not said that he became a -Christian. But the Druids were his enemies. They were not idolaters, but -worshipped the hidden powers of nature, the sun and stars, and believed the -waters and springs had the powers which were attributed by the Druids of -Gaul and Britain to oaks and forests. Columba drank their sacred water in -defiance, and they tried to hinder him when he went out of the castle to -sing vespers. He chanted the psalm "Eructavit cor meum;" and they were -silenced. - -St. Columba preached and worked miracles among the Picts, and, though he -spoke by an interpreter, he made converts. One day on the banks of Loch -Ness he cried: "Let us make haste to meet the angels, who are come down -from heaven and await us beside the death-bed of a Pict, who has kept the -natural law, that we may baptize him before he dies." He was then aged -himself, but he outstripped his companions, and reached Glen Urquhart, -where the old man expected him, heard him, was baptized, and died in peace. -And once, preaching in Skye, he cried out, "You will see arrive an aged -chief, a Pict, who has kept faithfully the natural law; he will come here -to be baptized and to die;" and so it was. - -{669} - -He once healed a Druid by miracle; but he attempted to arouse the powers of -nature against the saint, and, as he foretold, a contrary wind opposed the -departure of Columba. But he bade the sailors spread the sail against the -wind, and sailed down the Loch Ness in safety. Nor did he end his labors -till he had planted churches and monasteries throughout these wild valleys -and islands. - -In 574, Connall was succeeded by Aidan on the throne of the Scots, and he -desired to be consecrated by the abbot of Iona. Columba refused till he was -commanded by an angel to perform the sacred ceremony at Iona--the first -time it had been done in the West. - -Montalembert observes that among the Celts the monastic was superior to the -episcopal office, and therefore the abbot consecrated the first of the -Scottish kings on a stone called the Stone of Destiny, which was ultimately -carried to Westminster Abbey by Edward I., and is now the pedestal of the -English throne. The Dalriads in Scotland were subject to the Irish kings, -and it was to free them from their tribute that Columba was sent to Erin, -which he thought never to see again. The new king went also, and they met -the monarch and chiefs at Drumheath. Aed or Hugue II. was now reigning, and -he it was who had given to his cousin Columba the site of Derry. Columba -and St. Colman obtained the independence of Scotland; and afterward St. -Columba attended another assembly, which was to decide the existence of the -Bardic order. There were three kinds of bards: the Fileas, who sung of -religion and war; the Brehons, who versified the laws; and the Sennachies, -who preserved the history and genealogy of the ancient races, and decided -on boundaries. These last frequented courts and even battle-fields, and -their influence was now so much feared that the monarch proposed to abolish -or to massacre the bards. They were, in truth, a Druidic order, but they -became Christians, though they were independent of all but their own laws. -Columba was a poet even to his old age, and he saved the bards from the -anger of the king by proposing to regulate and diminish, instead of -destroying, the order. His eloquence prevailed, and thenceforth the bards -and monks were united in spirit. Fergall, their blind chief, sung to -Columba his hymn of gratitude; and Baithan, one of his monks, admonished -his abbot for his self-complacence. This Baithan was declared by Fririan, -his brother monk, to be superior to any one on this side of the Alps for -the knowledge of the Scriptures and the sciences. "I do not compare him to -Columba," said he; "for he is like the patriarchs and prophets and -apostles; he is a sage of sages, a king among kings, a hermit, a monk, and -also a poor man among the poor." - -Columba made afterward, several visits to his monasteries in Ireland, -working miracles as he went; as when he went from Durrow to Clonmacnoise, -and healed a dumb boy, who became St. Ernan. He was received there by the -religious, who walked in procession to meet him, chanting hymns. He had not -only a jurisdiction over all his monasteries, but a preternatural knowledge -of all that went on there; and he once interrupted his labors at Iona to -pray with his monks for the safety of some workmen at Durrow, and for -softening the heart of its abbot, who was too severe on his monks. Columba -was by nature impetuous and vindictive, and was still an O'Neill in party -spirit. Often in the monastery of Iona he would pray for victory to his -clan in battle, or he would pray for the men of his race or the kinsmen of -his mother; and once, when aged, he bade them sound the bell of the -monastery, (a little square bell, such as now hung round the necks of -cattle,) and sound it quickly. The religious hastened around him, and he -bade them pray for Aidan, his Dalraid kinsman, then in battle; and they -prayed till he said, "Aidan has conquered." - -{670} - -Adamnan tells us of his own sanctity. One day he retired alone to a distant -part of the island, and he was seen with his hands and eyes lifted up to -heaven, and surrounded by angels, and the place was named "The Mount of -Angels." As he grew older, he increased his austerity. He plunged himself -into frozen water; and, seeing a poor woman gathering bitter herbs to eat, -he forbade that any other food should be brought to him. He used to pray -alone in the little isle of Himba, and his hut was lighted up by night from -heaven, while he sang hymns in a tongue unknown to his hearers. Having been -there three days and three nights without food, he came out rejoicing that -he had discovered the mysterious sense of several passages of Scripture. He -returned to die at Iona, and was already surrounded by a halo of glory; so -that, when he prayed in the church at night, the brightness blinded the -beholders. - -One day in his cell his attendants saw him in heavenly joy, and then in -deep sadness, and they asked the cause. - -"It is thirty years," he said, "since I began my pilgrimage in Caledonia; -and I have long prayed that I might be released this year. I saw the angels -come for me, and I rejoiced; but they stood still down yonder on that rock, -as if they could not come near me; for the prayers of many churches have -prevailed, and I grieve that I must live four more years." - -At the time appointed he was drawn on a car by oxen to take leave of the -monks who were working in the fields. Another day he blessed the granary of -the monastery, and foretold his death. This was on Saturday, and he said it -would be the Sabbath of his repose. As he returned he met the old horse -which carried the milk to the monastery, and the horse laid his head upon -the shoulder of his master, as if to take leave of him, and the saint -caressed and blessed him. Then, looking down from a hill on the monastery -and isle, he stretched out his hands to bless it, and prophesied its future -sanctity. Then he entered his cell, and was transcribing the thirty-third -psalm, where he came to the words, "Those who seek the Lord shall want no -good thing;" and he said, "Here I must end; Baithan will write the rest." -He went into the church for the vigil of Sunday, and, returning, he sat -down on his bed of stone, and sent a message to his monks, and exhorted -them to charity. After that he spoke no more. - -Hardly had the midnight bell rung for matins when he ran first to the -church, and knelt before the altar. It was dark, and one monk followed him, -and placed his venerable head upon his knees. When the community came with -lights, they found their abbot dying. He received the last sacraments, and -opened his eyes, and raised his right hand in silence, to bless his monks. -His hand fell, and he expired. He lay calm, and with the gentle sweetness -of a man asleep in a heavenly vision. That very night two holy persons in -Ireland beheld Iona enveloped in light; and then miracles began to be done -while his body lay in the little church of Iona. - -In the ninth century, when pirates ravaged the coasts, the body of the -saint was removed to Down, and laid between those of St. Patrick and St. -Bridget. The pirates were punished by sudden death. The Norman, Strongbow, -died of a wound after destroying the churches of Columba and the saints, -and De Lacy perished at Burrow while he built a castle against the -monastery. - ------- - -{671} - - From Chambers's Journal. - - Charles V. at the Convent of Yuste. - - Shade and sunshine play alternate on the convent's massy walls; - In the cloister's dim seclusion soft the stealthy footstep falls; - In the quiet garden-alleys underneath the citron's shade, - Pace the monks with open missals, downcast eyes, and silent tread. - Birds are singing, bees are humming, trees are whispering, while through all - Steals the silver tinkling, tinkling of the distant fountain fall. - Far away, the wild Sierras stretch their ridges dim and high, - Carving weird and warlike phantoms in the blue and dazzling sky; - Rising still in savage grandeur, till they reach the bounding main; - Mute protectors of their country, bulwarks of chivalrous Spain. - Who comes hither, slowly sauntering, pausing oft awhile to rest; - Arms across so calmly folded, head declining on his breast? - More than common spirit lurketh in the bright and clear blue eye; - More than common toil and travail in the brows' deep furrows lie. - Weight of years and weight of trouble somewhat bow the haughty form, - But the haughty heart within it still is beating quick and warm; - Iron heart that knew no bending, when the storm was fierce and loud, - Soared above the thunder's roaring, dared the lightning, braved the cloud. - Stalwart heart that still was foremost in the serried ranks of war; - Triumphed o'er the Gallic legions, foiled the Moslem's scimitar. - Hardy Germans; proud Burgundians; trusty Flemings, true as steel; - Mountaineers of wild Galicia, cavaliers of Old Castile; - Half the empire of the Old World; half the treasures of the New-- - Mexico's gold-flowing rivers, silver mines of rich Peru; - Wheresoe'er the sun ariseth, throwing o'er the hills his beams; - Wheresoe'er his dying radiance lingers on the lakes and streams; - Far as human foot can wander, far as human eye can scan, - Bowed the nations, poured the treasures, marched the legions for one man. - Yet he standeth there serenely underneath the chestnut bough, - And the gentle air of summer playeth lightly on his brow. - Gone the sceptre of the monarch, gone the priceless pearl and gem; - Gone the purple robe of splendor, gone the regal diadem. - March of armies, fall of kingdoms fate of war he little heeds, - Kneeling on the chapel pavement with his missal and his beads, - Listening to the simple brethren, chanting loud their matin hymn, - Or the holy Ave Mary, wafted through the twilight dim. - He hath conned life's sternest lessons he hath learned them long and well, - And the deep experience knoweth which their silent teachings tell. - Not the wildest hold of empire can the mind's expansion fill; - Vain the grasp of worldly power, worldly riches vainer still. - High o'er all that earth can offer, heaven's allurements beckon on, - And the crown that never fadeth by the victor shall be won. - ------- - -{672} - - - Translated from the French. - - The Crucifix of Baden. - - A Legend of the Middle Ages. - - -CHAPTER VI. - -Eight days passed since Johann's departure before the young man again stood -at the sculptor's door. Alas! in that silent and gloomy house, the click of -the hammer striking the stone, the cutting of the chisel on the marble, the -cheerful voices of the pupils, and the pure voice of Mina, singing her love -lay in the morning or canticle at eve, were no longer heard. The great -window of the atelier was opaque and black, and no spark of light appeared -in the house save where the weak and pale light of a little lamp shone -through the window of the young girl's room, at the top of the house, and -seemingly shadowed by the angel's wings. - -Johann sprang from his horse, tapped lightly at the door, and, throwing -aside his travelling cloak, hastened to question the old servant. - -"Where is your young lady?" - -"Above in her room. Her malady hath much increased since last we saw you." - -"And Master Sebald?" - -"Is at her side. She speaks and weeps in her delirium, and the master -desires that we should not approach her." - -"But I may enter," said Johann. "Fear nothing, Martha, I will not disturb -her--you well know that, when I departed, it was to bear a message for -Demoiselle Mina." - -Martha allowed the young traveller to pass, and he ascended the stairs -rapidly yet softly, and glided noiselessly into Mina's room, of which the -door stood half open. - -Beneath the thick curtains of the bed, under a canopy of dark blue damask, -the white form of the sculptor's daughter was dimly outlined, indistinct -and floating like a shadow, and scarcely perceptible, save where the yellow -ray of the silver lamp lit up two sparkling, ardent, agitated flames from -beneath her dark lashes. How dry and desolate, and even fearful, were those -late sweet glances, now glittering with the fires of fever! Tears would -bring more gladness to her father's heart than that wild splendor. So -thought Johann as he softly entered and hid behind a large arm-chair in his -eagerness to escape those burning glances. - -By the side of the bed Master Sebald sat gloomy and silent in a high-backed -ebony chair. His grief-worn countenance and gray head rested upon a hand -which seemed to Johann to have grown, even in the few days of his absence, -more yellow and thin. The other hand was stretched toward the bed, and held -clasped that of Mina. The old man watched every movement, every look, every -sigh of his daughter. A moan from time to time broke from her lips; then -she pushed back with her thin fingers the waves of golden hair which fell -over her pale forehead, and began to speak in short, gasping tones: - -"Wilt thou pardon me, my father?" said she. "Once thou hadst confidence in -me and wert happy. Nothing was wanting to thee; neither the grace of God -nor the respect of man; neither success nor genius. Ah! my father, when I -reflect that thou mightest always have been so, hadst thou no daughter! Why -came I ever into this world, or why died I not in my cradle? Then thou -wouldst have mourned me, but with different tears with sweet and tender -tears--tears of hope and benediction; thou wouldst have placed me in my -little coffin, and, when afterward thou wouldst think of me, thou wouldst -cease to weep, saying: I am a happy father, whose family is in -heaven--there have my pious wife and angel babe flown.'" - -{673} - -Here sobs interrupted her voice. A heart-broken sigh from the father -replied. - -The sick girl for a moment was silent, breathing painfully, and wiping away -with her hand the drops of sweat which stood upon her brow. Then with a -still more mournful voice, she continued: - -"Instead of that I grew, I lived, and I loved in vain. Father! my tombstone -must bear the thorns of grief the black cross of penitence. It will be a -sad sight--my last dwelling. Mockery will sound around it; the passer-by -will point it out scornfully, but, if thy malediction floats not over it, -my father--if thou wilt there shed a tear on the green turf--" - -"O my Mina! my only child, talk not of maledictions or tombs--I love thee. -I tremble for thee, I pardon thee--and thou wilt live and yet be happy. Who -can say that Otho has proved false? Who knows that old Hans is not -mistaken? Who knows that we may not see him once more, generous, true, and -loving thee, my Mina?" - -"We will never see him more. He loves me no more, my father. If old Hans -were mistaken--if the lady of Horsheim were not to wed Otho, Johann would -long ere this have returned. Thinkest thou the good youth would delay to -bring me glad tidings? No--he is generous, devoted, and tender. Why could I -not love him? I have been very weak, alas! but father, rememberest thou not -how tall and gracious was the count! How handsome he seemed with his red -plume overhanging his black hair, and his fine form encased in his steel -cuirass! And his voice that went so straight to the heart! his simple -grace! his gentle nobleness! Who would not have loved such a gentleman? And -thou, my father, didst thou not first love him?' - -"Yes, I loved him, Mina; and I would yet esteem him." - -"Contemn him not, father; and, above all, seek not to be avenged on him!" -cried the girl, in a fit of sudden terror. "Should a proud cavalier like -him espouse a poor maiden like me--one who is not even a lady? Thou hast -genius and glory, my father; but thou hast no escutcheon. I should have -loved Johann; he had such respect for thee--such devotion for me; he would -have given thee a happy old age, and me a peaceful life; he loved me and -would have sacrificed himself for me--he, who could find heart to see me -happy in another's arms. Oh! when Johann returns, tell him that I was not -ungrateful, and that, if heaven is opened to me, I will there pray for -him." - -Again her words were interrupted by a stifled sob; she turned, and her eyes -fell upon the great arm chair. She cried out, with fixed gaze and trembling -lips: - -"Johann is here--and weeping! Why speaks he not?" - -Then old Sebald turned and saw the young man. - -"Come hither!" he cried. "Thou hast been at Horsheim; what hast thou seen? -See how pale--how burning--how pitifully sick she is. Speak, my son; say -that old Hans erred when he named the husband of the Countess Gertrude!" - -Johann, erect and pale, for a moment did not reply; he made a few timid -steps toward the old sculptor, and whispered as softly as he could: - -"O master! why ask me now? Why force me to tell my tidings in her -presence?" - -And seeing a gesture of Mina's, he ceased. As low as he had spoken, she had -heard. She lifted her eyes, clasped her hands, and made an effort to speak. - -"Thou seest, father, that I was right," she murmured. "Thanks, Johann; thou -hast proved thy courage and thy goodness, of heart, and I rejoice that I am -yet able to bid thee farewell. But one last question--answer, if thou -lovest me. When will Otho's marriage take place?" - -{674} - -"In ten days," sobbed Johann. - -"'Tis very soon," replied Mina, shuddering. "My heart will be scarcely -cold, and a single green bud will not have appeared over my grave. But may -the earth be green, and the sky blue, and life sweet to him." - -Saying these words, she crossed her hands upon her breast, and, speaking no -more, remained thus for long hours, without even casting a look upon the -weeping Johann or upon her heart-broken father. - -The physician soon came, and after him the priest. The first had marvellous -secrets to cure the body; the latter had pious consolation and words of -peace for the soul. But they sought in vain to cure the body or strengthen -the soul of Mina. Each day, each hour, each moment stole a spark of the -waning fire of life; her grief was too great for so frail a form to bear, -and one evening at the end of July, ten days after Johann's return, she -closed her eyes forever, holding her father's hand in hers and the crucifix -to her lips. Johann was at her feet and received her last look. She had -near her in dying the Supreme Consoler of heaven and her only two friends -on earth, and there was in her last moments a tenderness which the heart of -the youth never forgot. - - - Chapter VII. - -Two days after, when the body of Mina had been deposited at sunset in the -cemetery at Baden, Sebald and Johann, the master and pupil, found -themselves alone in the atelier. Strange! It was Johann, the younger, that -seemed the most afflicted, most crushed. His eyes were swollen, his cheeks -pale, his step tottering, and his face covered with tears. Old Sebald -seemed much less changed; a few furrows the more on his brow, a few more -white hairs on his head, were the only visible tokens of his grief. His -step was as firm, his bearing as proud as before; but a strange, steady -glare, glowing and piercing, showing little trace of weariness or tears, -shone from his eyes, and it was this look that the master fixed upon his -pupil as they entered the atelier that made Johann shudder before its clear -and threatening light. - -"Johann," said the master, "it is now my turn to ask thee a question. -Sawest thou Otho of Arneck when thou wert at the castle of the Countess -Gertrude?" - -"Ay, master," replied the young man, with flushed face. - -"Spokest thou with him?" - -"Ay, truly." - -"Didst say to him that I prayed his presence, or, at least, that he should -explain himself? That I was in deepest sorrow, and Mina sick unto death?" - -"Yea, truly, my master." - -"And what response made he?" - -"That he, too, was grieved; but that his word was pledged, and that until -his marriage he might not leave the castle of the countess. The soft -remembrances of youth, he added, mar not, among wise men, the projects of a -riper age." - -"'Tis well, Johann, and I thank thee," replied the sculptor. "I now know -what I wished to know, and resolution is taken." - -Then he rose from his arm-chair threw a gloomy glance around the wall of -the studio. - -"I return hither no more," murmured. "Here have I toiled thirty years with -upright heart and pure hands. Nothing that I have here completed has been -sullied or profaned. I feared and served God; I honored and I loved man. I -then had a right to give purity to my virgins, the light of faith to my -martyrs, the halo of love to my cherubims. But now all is lost--faith, -renown, and child. Holy images! I cannot touch ye with bruised heart and -violent hands; hating and cursing men, I may not mould the august form of -the God of love. Therefore, no more will I appear in this retreat; its -windows shall remain darkened, its door closed. I will carry with me only -my grief, my memories, and this," he cried, seizing a sculptor's chisel -with a short, polished, and keen blade, upon which he gazed with his -strange look, as he gripped it with feverish strength in his hand. - -{675} - -"Speak not so. O my master! clasp not that steel so tightly," cried Johann. -"That will bring thee little of consolation or hope. Look for solace for -thy sorrows to this," he said, holding an ivory crucifix before his -master's eyes. "It was pressed to Mina's dying lips; she hath bequeathed it -to us. Recallest thou not, my master, her smile as she gazed upon it? 'Twas -because beneath the shadow of the cross even death seems sweet. There is -the only refuge, and there will I find shelter. The world hath had but -little of joy for me, and I but little of love for the world. The prior of -the Augustines hath promised me a cell, and I will be happy, there to pass -my life, praying or working beneath the poor robe of a monk, and preserving -the memory and crucifix of Mina." - -"It is well, my son," replied Koerner. "To each one his own succor and -light, his own strength and safety. If, thanks to the priest's purer cross, -thou findest calm and resignation, may I not seek the encouragement and -strength of my sculptor's chisel? Who may say, that, without these walls, I -am not destined to achieve some work that will immortalize my name and -console my heart? Then, why not leave to a father's grief the hope of -glory, of triumph, and--this little sculptor's tool?" demanded the old man, -with flushed face and sparkling eyes. - -"I wish thee triumph and glory, my master. But yet, if thou canst do so, -remember, when thou art active, diligent, and famous, that thy old pupil -Johann, who would not be an artist and became a monk, will never cease to -bless thee and to think of thee in his prayers." - -So saying, the youth, weeping, kissed old Sebald's hand and left the -dwelling, carrying with him the crucifix, his last and only treasure. When -he had departed, Sebald Koerner, too, left the studio, after casting a last -look on the bas-reliefs, the balcony, the mouldings, and the statues. He -double-locked the door and took away the key, and, issuing from his house, -he walked for a long time through the fields. Arriving at length at the -side of a deep pool near the foot of the hills, he bent over the tranquil -waters and dropped the key therein. - -The water plashed and the waves hastened in increasing rings from the spot, -and then became even more clear and peaceful than before--stilling -themselves ere the key had touched the bottom. Sebald then again stood -erect, with his icy glance and strange smile, yet grasping the chisel in -his hand, and then concealing it in his bosom as if it were a dagger. - - - Chapter VIII. - -One morning the Baron Otho of Arneck and the young Countess Gertrude, now -his dear lady and noble wife, were partaking in their house in Baden of -their morning collation of fruits, hydromel, and spiced cakes. How charming -seemed their repast, since they enjoyed it together. The cakes were -exquisite, the hydromel of the sweetest; the cups were of gold, the cloth -of fine brocade; Gertrude beautiful and loving. What was needed to complete -Otho's happiness? - -When the young baroness had clapped her hands to order away the breakfast -service, the servant who entered approached the knight, bearing on a silver -plate a piece of parchment folded in the form of a letter. - -"What have we here?" asked the noble lady. "Another invitation? Indeed, -Otho, they become wearisome. We are allowed no rest, although happiest -together." - -"It is indeed an invitation, but not one for thee, my cherished one," -replied Otho, when he had cast his eyes over the missive. - -"In good sooth! And who is it who dares so soon to attempt to separate thee -from thy wife?" - -{676} - -"An unfortunate man, and as such thou must forgive him," replied Otho, -smiling. - -"And what demands he?" - -"Thou shalt hear, sweet one." - -And the knight, unfolding the sheet of parchment, read these words aloud to -the baroness: - -"An old friend--a once dear friend prays the Baron of Arneck to grant him a -moment's converse for the sake of their common affection and of his unhappy -lot. The Baron Otho is happy; that is a reason why he should seek to pay -his debt of gratitude to heaven by aiding the unfortunate. Let him, then, -not refuse this prayer which a friend's voice addresses to him. - -"For many reasons, which the writer will explain by word of mouth, the -meeting should be in the burial-ground of Baden; for the old friend of the -Baron of Arneck can no longer have the honor of receiving him in his house, -hereafter forever closed and accursed. The Baron of Arneck is expected -tomorrow morning at six of the clock." - -"How strange a letter! How strange a meeting-place!" cried Gertrude, -turning pale. "Canst imagine, Otho, who hath addressed it thee?" - -"Some banished friend. Thou knowest, Gertrude, that at the accession of the -present margrave many nobles of Baden were exiled, and among them were some -old friends of my father, and without doubt it is one of them who hath -written this." - -"But--but, Otho--why should he choose such a place of tryst? A place so -solemn, so fearful! where there are only the dead and their tombs?" - -"'Tis the time and place that should reassure thee, my cherished one. One -harboring designs of evil would have appointed a forest, mayhap, or a -hostel; but never a burial-place, where no Christian man would do aught of -wrong, and, my sweet wife, nor my father nor I had ever friend among -infidels." - -"Thou wilt go, then?" said Gertrude. - -"Of a surety." - -"Alone?" - -"Even so, for, if it be a proscribed exile who seeks me, our varlets must -not know of his presence." - -"But fearest thou no danger, Otho? When thou wert alone, thou mightest -laugh at prudence; but now, canst thou forget that I am here? that I love -and tremble for thee?" - -"Fear not, my love. Even if this request should hide a snare--which I -credit not--remember that the guards of the cemetery would not give -entrance to a party of armed men, and that against one I have my skill to -defend me and this," said he, drawing from his belt a pointed and -keen-edged dagger. "But imagine not vain terrors, my Gertrude. He who hath -written me hath mayhap for long years tasted naught of tenderness or joy, -and our happiness should render us the more kind to the unfortunate." - -The young wife felt proudly moved at these noble words of her husband, and -the happy pair began their preparations for the margrave's reception, and -spoke no more of the strange meeting of the morrow. - -Otho, however, did not forget it; and scarcely had he perceived the first -rosy tints of day when he arose and donned his pourpoint and cloak. -Gertrude yet slept, and, after kissing his wife's forehead and tenderly -stroking her flaxen hair, he sallied gayly forth. - -Half an hour later saw him in the burial ground; but, although he had -arrived before the hour appointed, saw that the unknown was already there. - -A beautiful August morning spread its freshness and virginal splendor over -the earth; turtle-doves cooed in the tall yew trees; and sparrows, pursuing -each other among the lindens and lilac bushes, showered the dew drops which -glittered upon the leaves in a rain of diamonds over the green turf; -daisies lifted their little white heads and rosy crowns above the -grass-grown graves; and the grim tombstones, and even the black crosses, -seemed to cast aside their sombre look and to dress themselves almost gayly -in the growing sunlight. - -{677} - -"If Gertrude were here, she would cease to tremble," murmured Otho, -advancing. "Who could fear in the midst of the melody yon tiny songsters -pour forth, or surrounded by this light, this perfumed air, and walking in -so verdant a sod?" - -There was, however, a dark stain amid all this splendor. In an angle at the -foot of a lofty ash stood a man whose tall form and black attire were -sharply outlined in the surrounding brightness. - -"Yonder is my unknown," thought Otho, and with a few rapid strides he -approached him. - -The man stood motionless, his head bowed upon his breast, his eyes fixed -upon an oblong space upon which the grass had not yet begun to grow. - -"Thou art doubtless he who hath called me hither," said Otho. "I am the -Baron of Arneck." - -The stranger quickly raised his head and threw back the hood of his mantle, -exhibiting to the young knight's gaze thin locks of snow-white hair, and a -face on which sorrow had traced more furrows than age. - -"Master Koerner!" cried Otho, joyfully stretching forth his hand. "But why -so much mystery and solemnity? You needed but to call me to your side, -dearest master, if grief or calamity threatened, and, whatever might have -conspired to keep me back, I had obeyed the summons; and, indeed, I have -heard that you were afflicted, but I hope that the Demoiselle Mina hath -fully recovered from her illness." - -"She is healed, indeed," replied old Sebald again, lowering his eyes to the -bare spot of earth. - -"If I have not before presented myself at your house," continued Otho, who -felt it necessary to offer some explanation, but who could not without -blushing attempt it, "it was because I felt it well to silence by my -absence the slanders of envious tongues, and, believe me, my master, that -such a resolution cost me dear. For you, excellent master, I hold deep -respect and warm friendship, and I honor and admire your daughter, who to -me is a model of beauty, of wisdom, and of modesty. Her praises are ever -upon my lips, and sweet memories of her in my heart." - -"'Tis well--very well," murmured the old sculptor; "but be careful, Sir -Knight, you are treading upon her grave!" - -And with trembling hand and flashing eyes, he pushed Otho, who unwittingly -had trod upon the turfless space, back, back, far from the grave. - -"Can this be true?" cried the knight, turning pale. "Mina dead! sleeping -here! She so young, so beautiful, so tenderly loved! And you called me not, -master, to accompany her to the tomb to weep with you!" - -"You are very generous, Sir Knight; but what I would demand of you is not -your tears." - -"Need you, then, friends or aid? You know, Master Koerner, that since I -have known you I have been but too glad to place my influence, my relations -at your service, and I would now gladly offer you the benefit of my -fortune. Speak quickly, I pray you. Command of me what you need or desire." - -"I will first relate to you a tale of truth, and then demand vengeance of -you," replied the old man, in calm tones but with glittering eyes. "Sir -Knight, you presented yourself at my dwelling with the fervor of an artist -and the submission of a pupil. You sought, you said, a nobler and holier -goal than success at court or the triumphs of war; you wished with ardent -heart and zealous hand to produce the sacred images of our Saviour, his -virgin Mother, and the saints. And I believed you, Sir Knight; for to me -art was more glorious, more fruitful, more divine than aught else on earth, -because in art I found my mission, my recompense, my safety, and my life. -But you deceived me; you, who pride yourself on your name of gentleman; -and, while feigning to study my art, you were killing my daughter. -{678} -Reply not; deny not my words," continued Sebald, fixing a lurid gaze upon -Otho, whose words died on his lips. "She loved you, and for your sake died. -But before condemning you, justice commands me to hear you. You yourself -have just said Mina was wise, beautiful, and pure; that you lauded her -virtues to the world: why, then, did you not wed her?" - -"Because--because--" stammered Otho, blushing--"because, Master Sebald, -your daughter was not noble. You well know, my dear master, that the -customs of the nobility are sacred. Many a one of us is forced to silence -the voice of his heart, lest, as they say, a stain should be cast on his -escutcheon. Why was Mina a burgess's daughter and not a countess? But you -yourself understand, my old master, that I, whose ancestors were counted -among the companions of Charlemagne--that I could not take for my wife the -daughter of a sculptor, without title, without crest or quarterings." - -Otho pronounced these words in a low voice, with drooping head and downcast -eyes. He dared not meet the glance of the sculptor, who remained a moment -silent, and then spoke: - -"Otho of Arneck, you have crushed the father and slain the child. As you -say, the sculptor has neither title nor quarterings, but he has an arm for -vengeance!" - -And springing furiously forward, more rapid than thought in his movement, -the old man, his eyes gleaming, but his hand grasping firmly the glittering -chisel, flung himself upon the baron, and before the latter could draw the -dagger from his girdle, the steel disappeared in the folds of his velvet -doublet and buried itself in his breast. The hand that aimed it was firm, -the blow was sure; the chisel as of old failed not to perform its master's -will; and Otho of Arneck fell upon the bare space of ground--fell, never -more to rise, upon the very spot where Mina lay cold and dead. - -"Thou dost well--thou art avenged," gasped the fallen man, fixing his -glazing eyes upon Sebald. "In thy place I had done likewise--but--in -honorable combat--for I--I am a knight and noble. But I truly loved Mina." - -His head dropped back, his limbs relaxed, and he was silent. The clear red -blood of youth and health flowed from the wound and stained the bare earth. - -Sebald, with his arms folded upon his breast, gazed upon his work. - -"Let his blood flow on," he murmured at length; "let it moisten her coffin, -as it should. And now I shall deliver myself to justice. My vengeance as a -father and my mission as a sculptor are fulfilled." - -He turned away and walked with rapid steps from the cemetery, leaving his -weapon still fixed in the baron's body. - - - Chapter IX. - -A few weeks after the occurrences detailed in the last chapter, on a dull, -gray day of the autumn of 1435, a crowd of the burgesses of Baden assembled -in the great hall of justice to listen to the judgment to be pronounced -against Master Koerner, the sculptor. "Who," said they, "would have -imagined a few months since that a man so peaceful and just to all, an -artist so skilful, so fervent a Christian, would be dragged to that seat of -infamy?" They would as soon have expected to hear the judges condemn them -themselves to death and to see themselves led by the grand-provost to the -gibbet. Master Sebald a criminal! Master Sebald an assassin! Alas for poor -humanity, if that were all sixty years of virtue could bring forth! - -Nevertheless, there he was, the artist criminal--the white-haired murderer -standing erect before the magistrates in their robes of ermine and -carnation, before the ivory image of Christ crucified, with its black -velvet background, which hung above their seats. -{679} -There he stood while near him on a table lay the mute witnesses against -him: the velvet pourpoint, stiff with blood; the fine linen tunic, now -reddish brown in its hue; the murderous chisel, with its once gleaming -blade dark and rusty and covered with a crust of clotted blood. - -Several witnesses were called: the servant who received from Master Sebald -the treacherous letter, which he delivered to Count Otho; the keeper of the -burial-ground, who testified to having seen the accused enter the field the -dead on the morning of the twenty-second of August. But tears flowed -fastest when the Countess Gertrude, the youthful widow of the baron, gave -her deposition. While relating her mournful story, the noble lady swooned -several times, and her beauty, her placid face, and long, closed lashes, -and raving flaxen hair, unfastened and rolling in masses over her black -robe, moved the auditory that more than once the life of the assassin -seemed in instant danger. - -But the depositions of witnesses were almost useless. The most striking -evidence of his crime was the chisel lying there, still covered with the -victim's blood. And when the president, after declaring to Master Sebald -the crime of which he stood accused, asked, pointing to the blood-stained -weapon, "Dost thou recognize thy chisel?" the old sculptor replied: - -"Yes: it is mine." - -"And thou seest that with it was the life of the Baron of Arneck taken. -Canst thou say by whose hand he came to his death?" - -"Yes--by mine," replied Master Sebald unhesitatingly. - -"So thou hast already declared in delivering thyself up to the hands of -justice," said the president. "But that declaration, made in a moment of -trouble and grief, was insufficient. It needed a public avowal to confirm -it. But one question more: Thou hadst doubtless motives for the commission -of so barbarous an act?" - -"Assuredly," replied the sculptor. "No man kills wantonly one who was for -three years his pupil and his friend." - -"What cause, then, impelled thee?" - -The prisoner remained silent for a moment, bowed his head still lower, -clasped his hands tight together, and bit his lips till the blood trickled -from them; then he replied: - -"No; my motives were too holy. I will not tell them." - -"Reflect, accused," said the president. "It is because thy motives were -grave that they should be revealed. Reflect; and say why such a crime -sullies thy once pure hands." - -"No," repeated Sebald, "I am ready to die, but the history of my crime dies -with me." - -Then a young man dressed in the habit of an Augustine novice, who had -obtained the favor of remaining by the side of the accused, rose, and in a -timid voice addressed the judges: - -"Although, my lords, I know not fully Master Sebald's motives, I may, -perhaps, suspect them. There are moments in the lives of the wisest and of -the most just when the heart may harden and the judgment err under the goad -of some great grief. Remember, my lords, that Master Koerner has lost his -only child, and you, who knew the daughter, can conceive the grief of the -father." - -"Johann! be silent!" cried old Sebald, rising, trembling and furious. "Let -the dead sleep in their graves. Their agony is past, and mine needs no -increase. I make no avowals--I desire no defence. The crime was mine--the -vengeance was mine, and I seek but to die with my secret!" - -The old man fell back exhausted by this burst of indignation, and the young -friar, covering his face with his hands, sank upon his knees before his -master upon the stone floor, while the president glanced around upon his -colleagues, as if to read their judgment in their faces. - -"Before such a resolution," said he, "further questions were useless." - -Then he called upon the prisoner to stand erect and listen to his sentence, -which the clerk proceeded to read. - -{680} - -"Master Sebald Koerner, sculptor and burgess of the good city of Baden, -having been convicted of having, on the morning of August twenty-second -last past, treacherously wounded and killed the noble Otho Rayner, Baron of -Arneck, and esquire to his highness the margrave, is condemned to die by -the halter." - -"Accused, hast aught to say?" asked the president when the reading of the -doom was ended. - -"Nothing," replied Master Sebald, bowing with folded arms before the -judges. - -The president covered his head with his black furred robe, and continued: - -"Master! the justice of man hath pronounced thy doom, and will soon be -satisfied. With a common criminal our office would here end, and but a few -words of exhortation to repentance would accompany him to the executioner. -But, criminal as thou art, we cannot forget that for sixty years thou wast -our neighbor and our friend, and that those hands now red with murder have -carved many a pure and holy image to strengthen and lift our souls toward -God. - -"How canst thou, whose works have so long glorified our Lord, now refuse to -repent? Hast thou not read a thousand times the command, 'Thou shalt not -kill'? Hast never reflected upon our Saviour's agony--his wounded hands, -his lance-pierced side, his crown of thorns, the blows his face received, -his shames, his griefs, avenged only by the words, 'Father, forgive them, -for they know not what they do'? Thou hast thought upon all this; thou hast -even modelled with thy hands the bloody scenes of thy Redeemer's life; and -yet thou couldst not learn to forgive--thou, who wast but a man!" - -Here the president was for a moment silent, overcome by his emotion, and -the old sculptor, as if shaken in his fierce resolve and gloomy pride by -the words of his judge, slowly lifted his head and cast a troubled look -around. "In the bitterness of thy heart," continued the president, "in the -madness of thy wrath, all this thou didst forget; and yet to recall it all -to mind, thou neededst but to lift thine eyes. Gaze not on us, Master -Sebald; bear thy glances higher, and see above us the pallid face, the -wounded form, the holy eyes of him who loved more than thou, who suffered -more than thou, and who only avenged himself upon his torturers by saving -them from death, albeit at the price of his own blameless life. Harken to -me, betrayed friend! that Man-God had, too, a friend, and was betrayed by -the kiss of that friend; listen, unhappy father! that Father was sold, -scourged, crucified by his children. And if this God, reviled, dishonored, -avenged not himself, was it not to set man an example of forgiveness? Thou -hast not yet expiated thy crime, Master Koerner, and the hand of the -executioner will soon deliver thee to a higher Judge. Christ will await -thee at the gibbet, just and inflexible. Gaze on him ere thy death, poor -sinner, with faith and love, for thy Judge is also thy Saviour." - -So speaking, the president uncovered his head and pointed solemnly to the -ivory crucifix. The eyes of Master Koerner followed the uplifted hand and -rested on the agonized face of Christ. Then their fixed and stony glare -grew soft; their dry and burning lustre grew moist; his lips quivered; he -clasped his hands, and, after some moments of fierce struggling with -himself, the old artist murmured in a trembling voice: - -"Christ! God of the wretched--God of fathers alas! since Mina's death never -have I turned mine eye to thee!" - -His head fell once more upon his breast and his voice was choked in a sob, -while Johann at his side lifted his hands toward heaven in an ecstasy of -joy and gratitude. - -There was a murmur and a motion in the crowd; then all was silence again as -the voice of the president arose once more: - -{681} - -"A ray of grace from on high hath illumined thee; let us pray that it may -conduct thee through the gates of death to eternal light, I have a few -words more to address thee. The court, while punishing as it should the -crime of the murderer, forgets not the merits of the artist. It therefore -accords thee, to lessen the bitterness of thy last moments, the favor thou -mayst most desire. Reflect, Master Sebald, ere thou fixest thy choice. Any -grace thou mayst demand shall be accorded, any save life." - -A murmur of astonishment and joy ran through the crowd, which was hushed -only to hear the old sculptor's reply. Master Sebald remained long silent, -but at length rose and spoke: - -"I would not ask life were I free to do so," he answered. "My life hath -already been too long, and she whom I love awaits me beyond the grave. But -you have spoken of expiation, my lord, and it seems to me that even here -below my death would not afford a complete one. My life, ended at the -gibbet, may satisfy the justice of man; but what shall I do to appease the -anger of my God? Dare I appear before him with no penitential act to plead -for my pardon; no work of reparation wherein sweat and tears I might have -washed my blood-stained hands? Repentance came while I gazed upon yon -crucifix; in carving another, pardon might perhaps descend upon me from -heaven. If the court will for a few weeks prolong my life, as I now see -Christ's image before me, so will I produce it in the stone!" cried he with -enthusiasm. "I ask not to quit my prison to live in the midst of men. No! -let me be immured in a dungeon, let my door be sealed until I leave it to -go to my death. Let but a ray of sunlight enter, that I may see to model -the august countenance of my God, while I remain there with the thoughts of -eternity and the remembrance of my crime for my only companions." - -"Master Koerner," replied the judge, "thy request is that of a good -Christian and a noble artist, and the court accords it with joy, in the -hope that the work of thy last days may bring thee pardon and salvation. -Thou wilt be led back to thy dungeon, and, before its door closes upon -thee, all thou mayst require for thy work will be brought thee." - -The judges arose and retired. Johann, radiant with joy, and his grief -almost consoled, accompanied his old master to the prison, and then sought -the stone, the clay--all that the sculptor could need. Even the fatal -chisel, cleansed of its stains, was brought to him bright and shining, like -the soul of the criminal which, stained by sin, would soon be cleansed by -grief and labor. - -Then the old sculptor passed his hand over his seamed brow and hollow -cheeks and called for a mirror. The door was then built up with stone and -mortar, and only an opening large enough for his food to be passed through -was left, and Master Sebald stood alone in the cell which he was only to -leave to pass to the gibbet. - - - Chapter X. - -Solitude was the cradle of creation; solitude is the never-ceasing fountain -wherein exhausted souls are refreshed. Not without an object did the -prophets begin their mission in the desert. Who would leave after him an -immortal name must retire from the haunts of men, and in solitude examine -his soul ere he speaks to mankind from the rostrum, or with the pen, the -chisel, or the pencil. When the busy hum of the world has faded away into -silence, when he hears no voice but that of his heart within, and nature -without, and God above, he will then feel the flame which brings -immortality. The voice he hears will be that of truth; the hand which -stretches toward him that of justice; and all the strength of the one and -the charms of the other will glow in his work. - -Master Sebald's dungeon was the most real, the most complete of solitudes. -Thick walls of gray granite, upon which shone green and slimy traces of the -dampness that filled the air, formed a circle around him without an angle, -a recess, an irregularity on which the weary eye might rest. -{682} -A plank and a truss of straw were his bed; a block of stone was his only -seat; there was no door, for such was old Sebald's wish. Light alone--sweet -light--was not denied the captive, but flowed abundant and golden through a -large opening in the vaulted roof. But by day only was the boon granted, -and then it bore with it no sight of that world where men dwelt, no view of -the sunlit waters, the green fields, or the feathered children of the air. -Nothing of these could he enjoy; nothing but that flood of day flowing from -the open heaven upon the criminal's brow, like the gaze of Eternal Love, -ever open to hearts that yearn for it; and nevertheless, when Master Sebald -thus found himself immured in a living tomb, when nothing of earth remained -to him save stone walls, his modelling clay, and his chisel, then -inspiration of a greater power than it had ever before felt filled his -soul, and in that inspiration and in his work he would have found joyful -companions; he would have been happy, were it not that two dark and -vengeful guests found lodgment in his breast, sorrow and remorse. - -His remorse was for his crime, his sorrow for his child. They wore deeper -the furrows in his brow; they made his hair whiter, his step more feeble -and uncertain; they sunk his eyes deeper in their sockets. They tortured -him in his weary watchings; they gave form to his dreams and broke and -almost banished slumber; they stood before him when he worked or -prayed--his former hate and his former love; his victim and his child. The -golden hair of his Mina glittered in wild waves before his eyes; he saw the -manly face of Otho pale and contracted with agony, while the gushing blood -poured from his wound; he closed his eyes, but still their forms stood -before him, both beckoning to the threshold of that world where eternity -begins. - -The old master commenced his work, ever surrounded by these sad companions. -Ever hearing the last murmurs of Otho, the last sighs of Mina, he carved -the holy cross and the summit of Calvary; then the shameful scroll; then -the sacred form. Ever haunted by his visions of the dead, he knew better to -give to the divine Crucified the writhing of living agony joined to the -beginning rigidity of death; he remembered the last quivering of human -strength and the mysterious folds of the winding-sheet. It was only when he -came to carve the face of Christ that imagination and memory ceased to -furnish him a model. Mina's passionate grief and pious resignation; the -mingled humiliation, repentance, grief, and rage of the murdered Otho could -give naught to be reproduced in the countenance of a God. He must seek his -model elsewhere; and Master Sebald had not asked for his mirror in vain. - -Standing erect before his work, he began to chisel the face of Christ; and -for the first time since his prison walls closed upon him he gazed upon his -own reflection. The long gaze upon his white head and his grief-worn -features satisfied him. - -His own face was a book, a book of sorrows speaking most eloquently, -wherein all bitterness, all failings, all regrets, and all terrors, the -dreams of the artist, the humiliation of the master, the friend betrayed, -the sufferings, of the father, the anguish of the condemned, had inscribed -their memories and left their foot-prints. The agony of Master Sebald was -already long, and had been cruel and stormy. Ah! the remembrances of Otho's -treachery were as the wounds in the hands and feet; the brand of dishonor -upon his brow was as the crown of thorns; and the last wound, the stab of -the lance, was the loss of Mina. So, that after long contemplating his own -features, the old sculptor knelt humbly before the work he had begun. - -"Pardon, O Christ!" he said, "if I, a weak mortal, an unworthy and sinful -man, dare, in carving thy sacred lineaments, trace mine. But I design not, -O Lord! to show thee happy and full of peace, or radiant and glorious. -{683} -I promised to present thee suffering, suffering even the death of the -cross; I suffer that of the gibbet. A friend betrayed thee; a friend -betrayed me. Thou wast loaded with insult and ignominy; I too had good -cause to blush before my judges. Thou weepest over the sins of men, thy -children; I over my child's grave. And as, O Lord! thou wert man as well as -God, I may not offend thee in copying the anguish, the griefs, the -sufferings that have left their print upon my brow. All these thou knowest, -O Lord! but remorse thou couldst not know. That will I keep to myself, and -in its stead I will place radiance, hope, and splendor of divinity. Ay, -hope! for even on the cross didst thou hope and call upon thy Father!" - -Here the old sculptor ceased, and bent before his work, while the shadows -of despair darkened his brow. Then he cast a troubled look upon the statue, -a look in which anguish mingled with prayer, confidence with terror. - -"And can I hope?" he murmured. "Mina is in heaven. Shall I again see her?" - -But no voice replied, and, sighing, he stood again erect. Then after a few -moments of silent meditation he seized his chisel, and, making the sign of -the cross, recommenced his work, and the stone seemed to breathe, to -quiver, to palpitate as, one by one, the suffering lines came forth. Truly -in Master Sebald's mirror were grief and unpitying and unending pain. - -And he worked in spite of the gnawings of hunger, the want of sleep, the -cold of the winter. He had ever within him strength and fire--the strength -of expiation, the fire of penitence. But as he worked, his form became more -stooped, and his eye less sure; his blood flowed feebler through his veins, -and his breath grew more quick and gasping. But he needed but mind and -hand, and his mind was clear, and his hand carved bravely still. And what -cared he for the failing of an exhausted body? If, day by day, his face -grew thinner, his eyes cavernous, his lips tighter, was not his model for -all that the more real? Was it not a dying Christ he was carving? - -At last his work was done. When the last blow of the chisel had been given, -when the stone had received the final touch, when Christ hung there -wounded, quivering, breathing, sublime, Master Sebald knelt before his work -and bowed his forehead to the earth. The sculptor demanded his pay; the -criminal his pardon. He prayed fervently and long; and when he rose, he -knew that his child called, and that the hour of his deliverance was nigh, -and, walking to the narrow opening which formed his only means of -communication with men, he called aloud to his jailer: - -"My Christ is finished! My task is done! Unseal the door and lead me to the -executioner." - -But it was not the executioner that came, but the judge; and he, the first -to enter the dungeon, when he lifted his eyes, fell upon his knees with -clasped hands; for what he saw seemed no image of stone, but a living -Christ, suffering and dying before him. Struck with astonishment and -admiration, he called his colleagues and sent for monseigneur the bishop, -and his highness the margrave, that all might see the Christ of the -condemned. The dungeon of Master Sebald was too narrow for the multitude of -visitors who crowded before the holy image; they talked of carrying it to -one of the courts of the city, or to the Grand Place, that all the faithful -might mourn and be edified by so sacred a spectacle. But Master Sebald -opposed this project and asked a further boon: - -"Ah!" cried he, "if you think this work of my hands merits aught but favor, -consecrate it to a holy remembrance; place it in the cemetery where my -daughter reposes. Christ should be upon her tomb, to speak to her of hope, -and on the tomb of him--of--_him_ too, to speak to him of -forgiveness." - -{684} - -We may add that the sculptor's request was quickly granted, for in those -happy days there were sheriffs who believed, and judges of tender hearts. -They were very backward, and very far behind our enlightened age in those -days, although gunpowder had just been invented. Besides, the councillors -of the margrave held sacred things in respect, and did not regard -cemeteries as mere charnel-houses. - -They carried, then, with great pomp, Master Sebald's statue to the -cemetery; and, for the first time since his imprisonment began, the old man -saw the crowd of men, the green leaves, the tomb of his daughter, and the -white clouds of heaven. - -He saw the blessing of the cross; he saw Mina's tomb consecrated; and then, -taking his chisel, he graved upon the pedestal, as a last farewell, the -inscription which, as we have seen, yet remains, and asked the time -appointed for his execution. But murmurs arose in the crowd which soon -swelled to violent clamors. Could so repentant a man, so old and true an -artist, be given over to the gibbet! The people surrounded the magistrates; -the magistrates turned to the councillors; the councillors turned to the -margrave; and after a short deliberation the president of the tribunal -declared to Master Koerner that, in consideration of his genius, of his -piety, and of his repentance, he should still live; pardon was granted him. - -"Is life a boon?" murmured the old artist, sadly bowing his head. "But I -await the mercy of God. He is more generous than man." - -He had not long to wait, for two days after, in the gray, early morning, -they found him cold and dead upon his daughter's grave, his head resting -upon the base of the crucifix. His hopes were realized; God opened his -prison-doors. - -...... - -Such is the legend of the sculptor and his work--a legend which offers a -simple and characteristic picture of the ages of confiding faith, when the -Christian placed his hopes, the injured his vengeance, the criminal his -repentance, and the artist his genius, at the foot of the cross. - ------- - - Original. - - The Indissolubility Of Christian Marriage. - - - Number Two. - - -It is evident that Jesus Christ intended to legislate and did legislate in -regard to marriage. The commandment which he gave, requiring the marriage -contract to be respected as inviolable and indissoluble, is a law, has the -force of a law, and is obligatory, not only upon ecclesiastical, but also -upon civil legislators and judges. There is no power upon earth, either in -the church or in the state, which has power to abrogate or change it. We do -not pretend that this law was promulgated to the Jewish people, or to pagan -nations, directly and immediately. Our Lord legislated immediately only for -those who should become the subjects of his kingdom by baptism. For all -others, he legislated only mediately, by promulgating to all mankind the -precept to embrace his faith and be baptized into his church, and thus to -bring themselves under the entire code of Christian law. The unbaptized are -subject to the natural law only in regard to marriage, as in everything -else; and their marriage is not a sacrament, but a merely natural contract. -{685} -What we maintain is, that the law regarding _Christian_ marriage has -been established by the sovereign authority of Jesus Christ for all the -baptized, and that this law respects the very essence of marriage as a -contract, invalidating all pretended marriages which are not in accordance -with it. All ecclesiastical legislators are, therefore, bound to legislate -in conformity with this law. They must treat all marriages sanctioned and -ratified by the law of Christ as valid and binding, and all others as null -and void. All Christians must act in the same manner. And in Christian -states, as all law-givers and judges are bound to act according to their -conscience, and in conformity with the divine law, and as the revealed law -of Jesus Christ respecting marriages is the supreme rule of the Christian -conscience, having the force of a divine law, they are bound to make it the -rule of all their enactments and judgments. - -Some Protestant writers deny that our Lord intended to legislate respecting -matrimony, and affirm that he merely laid down a rule of morality. This is, -however, an unmeaning statement. He could not give a moral precept -respecting matrimony without legislating. The essential morality of the -question is determined by the law determining the conditions, motives, and -obligations of the contract. Morality consists in conformity to this law, -immorality in violating it. Our Lord could not, therefore, command anything -as required by morality, or forbid anything as immoral, in relation to the -essentials of marriage, without reenacting an already existing law, or -promulgating a new law, defining the conditions by which a marriage is -rendered a valid or an invalid contract. - -The very circumstances and terms of his utterance on the subject show that -he did legislate. Moses legislated on the subject, and permitted to men -divorce in certain cases, with the privilege of remarriage to both parties. -Our Lord expressly revokes this permission, so far as his own disciples are -concerned, and declares that, according to the Christian law, whoever -divorces his wife and marries another, or whoever marries a divorced party, -must be held guilty of adultery. This is an act of legislation, for it is a -law declaring null and void for the future certain marriages which, under -the Mosaic law, were valid. Now, there is no civil law which can make a -contract declared invalid by the divine law valid, binding, or lawful, or -which can invalidate a contract made valid by the divine law. It is true -that our Lord did not enact any civil law, properly so called, with civil -penalties annexed to it, for the Jewish people, or for any Gentile nation. -But he prescribed the standard according to which all legislators in -Christian states are bound to make their civil laws. - -The question now comes up, How are we to ascertain what the law of Jesus -Christ is, and what is the law itself? We have discussed the last question -in part, in our former number, in which we endeavored to show that the -texts of Scripture in which we are informed concerning the precept given by -Christ concerning marriage, properly understood, sustain the Catholic -doctrine of the indissolubility of marriage. We have now to show how the -Catholic doctrine and the law of the Catholic Church are established with -an infallible certainty, and with a force absolutely obligatory on the -conscience. - -It is evident enough that the notion of legislators and judges attempting -to discuss and decide upon the true meaning of texts of Scripture is -absurd. Such a proceeding would never lead to any uniformity of legislation -if attempted, and it would never be attempted in any community where -principles of sound jurisprudence prevailed. Who, then, are to decide upon -the meaning of these texts, if the ultimate appeal is to them? The -Protestant clergy? They cannot agree among themselves. -{686} -Even in the earliest and best days of Puritanism in New England, when a -comparatively strict doctrine and legislation respecting marriage -prevailed, there was a serious difference among the clergy respecting the -lawful grounds of divorce. Moreover, the Protestant clergy do not claim the -right of interpreting the Scripture. The laity have an equal right, and -each individual has it for himself. Rationalists claim also the right of -making reason the criterion of the truth of the doctrine of Scripture and -the teachings of Jesus Christ. It is therefore plain that it is a futile -proceeding to attempt to make the text of Scripture a standard of -legislation or public sentiment in regard to marriage. The result which has -actually been produced is an inevitable result, namely, that the prevalent -opinion and sentiment in the community, based on their common sense, will -regulate legislation in regard to marriage and divorce. This common sense -is not an enlightened and elevated common sense, proceeding from sound, -rational, and moral principles. It is a low, irrational sense, derived from -passion, self-interest, expediency, and a perverted reason, which tends -continually to degenerate more and more, and whose logical consequences may -be seen developing themselves every day under our own eyes. - -The law established by Jesus Christ is not and cannot be based upon the -texts of the sacred historians who inform us of the fact that he did -promulgate such a law. These texts are not the law, and the enacting force -does not proceed from them. They may be cited in proof of the fact that the -law was made, and in proof of what the law was. The law itself was verbally -proclaimed by our Lord, and its force dates from and depends upon that -verbal enactment. The historical account given by the evangelists added -nothing to it, and the comments of the apostles upon it are mere allusions -to it, or exhortations to keep it, which presuppose its existence. It was a -part of the unwritten law of the church handed down by tradition, whose -legitimate expositors were the apostles and their successors. Our Lord must -have instructed the apostles fully on the subject, and they must have -transmitted full and explicit instructions on the same subject to the -bishops and clergy to whom the government of the church was committed. As -occasion required, the unwritten Christian common law was embodied in -canons by episcopal councils, and thus became statute law. The true method -of fixing decisively the real scope and contents of the divine legislation -of our Lord is, therefore, to investigate the legislation of the church -from the earliest times. - -The doctrine defined by the Council of Trent upon which the modern -canonical law of the Catholic Church is based, is too well known to need -any statement. It is evident that this definition was no innovation, but -merely a solemn declaration of the doctrine universally received in the -Catholic Church, levelled against the innovations of Protestants. The mere -fact that the indissolubility of marriage has been recognised in the -Catholic Church and enforced under the severest penalties, and that it has -been also recognised and protected by the civil law of Europe, until -Protestantism brought in a disastrous change, is sufficient to prove that -the church received her law from Jesus Christ or the apostles. So severe a -law, one so inconvenient to individuals, one so contrary to the established -legislation of both Jews and Gentiles, could never have been established -and enforced by any other than a divine authority, and in the origin of the -Christian community. If a milder law had ever prevailed in the church, an -attempt to establish a stricter one would have met a violent opposition. -History would record the struggle, the pages of the fathers would bear -witness to the difference of opinion and the mutual discussion of the -question by the opposing parties. Councils would have been called to decide -it, and, if any change had been generally enforced in favor of a stricter -law, either it would have been based on reasons supposed to justify or -require the abrogation of an indulgence formerly granted, or, if not, the -previous existence of this indulgence would have been denounced as a -corruption, and these who maintained it would have been condemned. -{687} -The quiet, undisturbed continuity of the tradition and practice of the -church from the earliest ages proves that no serious and widespread -difference of doctrine ever arose, but that the modern Catholic doctrine of -the indissolubility of marriage held undisputed sway from the beginning. -The opponents of this doctrine cannot pretend to establish any clear -tradition in their own favor. They can only endeavor to obscure the -evidence of the tradition sanctioning the Catholic doctrine. -Notwithstanding their efforts, the chain of evidence from St. Augustine -back to Origen, Justin Martyr, and Hermas, including all the canons which -still remain, and which were enacted by ecclesiastical councils, is -unbroken and conclusive, as may be seen by consulting those Catholic -authors who have written scientific treatises on the subject. The whole -discussion is, however, of little practical value, except as showing the -necessity of the infallibility of the church in defining doctrine and her -supreme authority in judging moral questions, and as corroborating the -proof that she possesses this infallible and supreme authority. The real -question at issue is, whether marriage is a sacrament confided to the -guardianship of the church, and regulated by a law of which the church is -the supreme judge, or whether it is a natural contract under the control of -the civil law. The Protestant world has taken the latter side of the -alternative. Consequently, the case of marriage comes to this issue; what -civil laws respecting marriage and divorce are best calculated to promote -happiness, morality, social and civil prosperity and well-being? -Legislatures and courts must decide the question, while churches, -clergymen, moralists, writers, etc., can exercise no other influence than -that of argument and persuasion. These arguments must be drawn from reason -and the natural law. They must bear upon the point that the strength and -perpetuity of the marriage bond is useful and necessary for the -preservation of society. The doctrine of Scripture and the authority of -religion can only be brought in to increase the motives and sanctions of -the natural law. - -It is useless to hope that the doctrine of the indissolubility of marriage -will ever be adopted either in theory or practice as the result of -reasoning on the principles of either the natural law or the moral code of -Christianity, by those who reject the infallibility of the Catholic Church. -It is also useless to hope that the Protestant clergy and jurists will ever -agree together as to the proper ground of divorce, and the proper -safeguards of marriage, much less that they will agree in adopting the -opinions of the most rigorous school among them, as sustained by their able -and learned advocate, President Woolsey, in The New-Englander. The only -thing in the power of the Protestant clergy and their lay coadjutors is, to -diminish and retard the destructive tendency of the false principle they -have admitted into theology and legislation by their denial of the Catholic -doctrine regarding marriage. In this direction they may do something, and -it is to be desired that they should exert themselves to the utmost to do -all they can. The clergy may exert a certain moral and religious influence -by acting according to some fixed principles and laws in regard to -performing the marriage ceremony and admitting or excluding persons from -communion. Also by preaching and writing on the obligations of marriage, -the blessings which flow from unions which are hallowed by perfect and -lifelong fidelity to conjugal and parental duties, and the evils which are -the consequence of infidelity and frequent separations. Jurists and -statesmen may reform the administration of law in the courts so as to -decrease the facility of obtaining divorce, and secure to all parties a -thorough protection of all the rights guaranteed to them by the civil law. -{688} -Physicians and others may do good by pointing out the physical and social -evils which flow from the violation of those laws on which the -multiplication and healthy development of the race depend. So far as -individuals are induced to marry in accordance with the dictates of pure -affection and enlightened prudence, to observe the moral laws of the -married state, and to remain faithful to each other until death, and so far -as divorces and re-marriages are rendered less numerous, so far good will -be done, and the well-being of society promoted. We desire most heartily -that the utmost possible success may attend these well-meant efforts. -Nevertheless, we cannot flatter our Protestant friends with any expression -of our own conviction that this success will be anything more than placing -a breakwater in the way of the current that is sweeping away the Christian -institution of marriage. The principles and institutions which make society -Christian, the traditions which connect it with the past and give it -Christian and moral vitality, have been received and retained from the -Catholic Church. As these are gradually abandoned and lost, society -possesses no power to recover and restore them. Christian societies outside -the church, and states composed of persons who are nominally Christian but -out of Catholic communion, bear within them the principle of dissolution, -without possessing any sufficient principle of recuperation. The Catholic -Church alone possesses a divine law given by revelation which she is -competent to explain and authorised to enforce, and which is a principle of -perpetual life, capable of resisting every tendency to disease and death, -and of renewing every decayed national constitution, restoring every -degenerate people, and continually repeating the work wrought in the first -formation of Christendom. Protestantism is a tubercular deposit in the -centre of the bosom of society. Its necessary result is spiritual, moral, -intellectual, and finally, physical death. As in the case of a person -smitten with tuberculosis, there may be for a long time many portions of -the lungs unaffected, much health and strength in the organs and limbs of -the body, and an increase of cerebral excitement and activity, although the -principle of death which will finally stop all vital activity is slowly and -surely gaining upon the principle of life; so with those portions of -Christendom which are smitten with heresy. There is much health and vigor -remaining as the effect of the original state of sound, integral, Catholic -life. Many individuals remain essentially sound in their belief and upright -in their practice. There is even a flush on the surface of society, a -hectic brilliancy in the eye of intellect, a fevered activity of thought -and action, which is mistaken for genuine, healthful vigor and vitality. -The boastful, shallow organs of public sentiment, whose real doctrines are -infidel, but who are forced to wear a little smear of popular religion on -their face, pretend, with an assurance equally sickening and ridiculous, to -read lectures and give advice to the Vicar of Christ and the bishops of the -Catholic Church on great moral and social questions. Their changes are rung -with monotonous and unmeaning repetition upon railroads, telegraphs, steam, -newspapers, heavy guns, and progress. The Catholic Church is denounced as -the great obstacle in the way of modern society, because she adheres to the -steadfast, unchanging affirmation of eternal principles of truth, law, and -justice. Her complete spoliation is urged as the great means of hastening -the march of society toward its goal. It is vain to expect an argument -which has any solidity, or even the pretence of an answer which is grave -and serious, to the reasonings and expostulations of those who point out -the deadly symptoms which are concealed beneath this hectic activity and -betrayed by this boastful demeanor. An ill-bred sneer, an unmeaning -platitude, or a frivolous display of rhetoric is all that can be expected. -{689} -Nevertheless, those who are able to think, and who have some real -solicitude for progress in truth, in sound morality, in Christian virtue, -in solid well-being and happiness, on the part of society and their -fellow-men, will not be able to shut their eyes to the evident symptoms -which prove that a deadly disease, already far advanced, is feeding on the -vitals of the social organism. These symptoms have been pointed out by -Protestant clergymen and medical writers, and we refer to their startling -statements as evidence of the virulence and extent of the moral ulcer which -is eating up the vitals of society and destroying the original, American -population of the country. It is not the matter of a few divorces granted -to married persons whose rights are judicially proved to have been violated -in a flagrant manner, which is of such great importance. While the ancient -laws of the states were rigidly enforced, and the number of divorces -granted was small, the community received no grievous injury. The great -evil which is so alarming, and is working such deplorable effects, consists -in the great number of divorces granted, the facility with which they are -obtained, and the flippant, shameless disregard of all judicial decorum by -the courts of law. Behind all this is another evil, the violation of the -morality of the conjugal state. The authors of Protestantism have opened -the door to all these disorders by their denial of the indissolubility and -sacramental character of matrimony, and their concession of the right to -judge and decide upon the whole subject of the marriage contract to the -civil power. The door which they have opened they cannot close. There is no -protection for the sacredness of marriage at all adequate to the -necessities of the case, except in a doctrine, a law, and a system of -practical morality, promulgated and enforced by a church which has power -over the conscience, and is acknowledged as possessing an authority -delegated by Jesus Christ. The utter weakness and helplessness of -Protestantism, and the absolute necessity of a return to the Catholic -Church in order to save society and civilization, has been manifested in -England and the United States in a more startling and sudden manner than -could have been anticipated twenty years ago by the most sagacious prophet -of the future. We wait with interest and anxiety to see what will be done -by those who believe that the secession of the sixteenth century was really -a reformation, and that the salvation of the human race is to be looked for -from the principles of Luther and Calvin. At present, these principles -appear to be tending to the abrogation of the institution of marriage in -the Christian sense of the word, and the introduction of a species of -polygamy worse than that of Mormonism. - ------- - -{690} - - - Original. - - Mea Culpa. - - By Richard Storrs Willis. - - - I. - - All through my fault, my own most grievous fault! - This the chagrin and inward smart of sin. - Nor others' blame can my poor cause exalt-- - Naught but myself t' accuse, without, within! - And thus to my God heavy-hearted I cry, - _Mea culpa, meet maxima culpa!_ - And thus to the mother of Jesus I sigh, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ - - II. - - O God! the past, the wicked past forgive! - The spectre-sins that haunt my soul dispel. - Deeper than mirth, alas! they frowning live; - Beneath my smiles, in memory's caves they dwell! - And thus to Saint Michael, archangel, I plead, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa:_ - And thus to Saint John with regret I concede, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ - - III. - - _Ponder my love_--a Saviour's voice would fall, - When tempted sore, in youth's delirious hour. - _Ponder my love_--O kind and gracious call! - And yet from life I plucked each poison-flower! - And thus to Saint Peter and Paul I exclaim, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa:_ - And thus to all saints and you, brothers, proclaim, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ - - IV. - - Ah! well, dear Lord, here in my guilt I bow. - What else to do, where else to go, than home? - Joyless, distrest, a contrite suppliant now, - Heartsick of sin, homesick for thee, I come! - Ye saints and you, brothers, to Christ for me pray - _Peccavi, mea maxima culpa!_ - Alas! my dear Jesus, 'tis all I can say, - _Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!_ - ------- - -{691} - - - From The Dublin University Magazine. - - Solutions of Some Parisian Problems. - - Cabs And Their Patron. - -The admirers of French novels have made acquaintance with some of the -French representatives of our own carboys and carmen in the French -metropolis. They are aware that their cabs or cabriolets are called -_Fiacres_, and they are naturally desirous to know why they should be -called by a name which by a little aspiration sounds unmistakably Irish. -This trifling question has set some archaeological antiquaries by the ears. -The following appears to be the genuine solution: Sanval, author of -"Recherches sur les Antiquités de Paris," (end of seventeenth century.) -said that, about forty years previous, a certain Nicholas Sauvage, agent to -the proprietor of the Amiens coaches, and owner of a large house in the Rue -Saint Martin, the front of which was adorned with the _enseigne_ of -Saint Fiacre, kept from forty to fifty horses in his stables, and also cabs -for the convenience of the public at rather a dear figure. His -establishment became so noted that all coaches for hire came to be called -Fiacres. - -Menage, in his "Origines de la Langue Françoise," 1684, gave a like -account, but described the effigies of St. Fiacre as adorning the front of -a house in Rue Saint Antoine. - -Both writers appear to have been in error. A satiric Mazarinade dating -1652, and bearing for title the "Royal Supper of Pontoise," etc., has the -following lines descriptive of the embarrassment of the worshipful -supper-eaters when they wished to return home at a late hour to Paris: - - "C'était pour avoir des Carrosses, - Ou l'on attelle Chevaux rosses, - Dont les cuirs tout rappetassés, - Vilains, crasseux, et mal passés, - Représentoient le simulacre, - De l'ancienne Voiture à Fiacre - Qui fut le premier du métier, - Qui louoit carosse au Quartier - De Monsieur de Saint Thomas à Louvre." - [Footnote 241] - - [Footnote 241: - It (the embarrassment) was to provide cabs - To which they yoke poor hack horses, - Whose leathers all shrunken, - Ugly, greasy, and badly dressed, - Represent the ghost - Of the old cab belonging to Fiacre, - Who was the first of the trade, - That hired out carriages at the Quarter - Of Monsieur St. Thomas of the Louvre.] - -Fiacre may have prospered in his business, and unprincipled rivals have -carried out his idea, and adopted the effigies of the saint after whom the -poor cabman was called. Thus Sanval may have seen the pictured saint -presiding over the useful articles (originally let out at three sous the -drive) in Rue Saint Martin, and Menage may have seen a rival, Rue Saint -Antoine. It is more likely that the plagiarists appropriated for their -vehicles the name of the saint than that of the humble individual, the -inventor of the system. - -Saint Fiachra was of that noble band of Irish missionaries who spread -themselves over the Continent soon after the island was converted. St. -Virgil became patron of Saltzburg, St. Killian of Franconia, St. Gall of -Switzerland, St. Columbanus of the Vosges and of Bobbio in Italy. St. -Fiachra was gladly welcomed by the bishop of Meaux in the seventh century, -and devoted his services to the care of an hospital. The cabriolet drivers -and (if we remember aright) the market gardeners of Paris honor him as -their patron. - - - Mysteries Of The Rue D'Arbre ?ec. [Illegible] - -No visitor will fail to visit the church of St. Germain d'Auxerrois, the -parish church, as it may be called, of the inmates of the Tuileries, and -within a few stones' throw of that luxurious but not very comfortable -residence. -{692} -The possession of the most finely furnished apartments will not give much -pleasure to the dweller who is uncertain whether he may not be ejected from -them to-morrow. The triple portal of the church dates from the middle of -the thirteenth century, and the low steeple from a much earlier period. -Owing to the late demolitions, the exterior of the church can now be -examined with more convenience and pleasure than of yore, and many a -saunterer will be surprised to see, arranged along the frieze of a lateral -chapel projecting into the Rue d'Arbre Sec, various portions of a carp, -separated from one another by roses, (architectural, to wit,) here a head, -there a body, and then (a rose intervening) a tail. As far as the -information got from passers-by extends, he must remain in ignorance of the -cause of the strange ornamentation, but he may learn it here at -second-hand, our authority being the archaeologist M. Didron. An individual -inhabitant of the adjoining street (perhaps a fish-monger) had got -permission to add this chapel to the old edifice; and to connect his name -(_Tronçon_, a piece cut away) with the building, he devised this -ingenious plan. - -Another pious and equally ingenious dweller in the same street, who dealt -in poultry, did so well in business that she built a new house at the -corner, and in front erected a pious monument. Her name being Anne, she got -a sculptor to execute a group for her, namely, St. Anne, mother of the -Blessed Virgin, teaching her daughter to read. Having thus secured her name -from oblivion, she got her occupation transmitted to after-times by having -various fowl sculptured in bas-relief on the plinth. Alas! how are casual -visitors to know, when admiring the group, that it was executed at the -expense of Anne the poulterer of the street of the withered tree; and who -is aware of the circumstance from which the street itself got its name in -old times? - -In days when pilgrimages were in fashion, a certain house of entertainment -in that street was much in favor with the really devout, as well as the -wanderers who had returned in life from the Holy Land. These had brought -home intelligence of a wonderful tree which had annually produced leaves -and fruit in the vicinity of Hebron, from the days of Adam to that on which -our Lord was crucified. [Footnote 242] On that day it withered, and, -according to the assertion of the pilgrims, would remain sapless till the -Holy City would be in the possession of a Christian power. Such a legend -was calculated to make a deep impression on the customers of the auberge, -for which an open-air artist was soon called on to execute the effigies of -the famous dry tree for a sign. Afterward the inn communicated its name to -the street. - - [Footnote 242: Near Hebron is an oak of great dimensions and of great - age; but the acorn from which it sprung was not planted for ages after - Abraham's time.] - - - Slang Banished From The Stage. - -Some objectionable things, which, when they assume troublesome proportions, -are extinguished by public opinion amongst ourselves, are stifled by the -strong hand of power in France. In 1859, a warning was given to those -theatres in Paris which were suspected of a leaning to _Argot_, -(slang,) that they should for the future accept no piece in which it -prevailed. So the poor gamins, who enjoy a play from the _Paradis_ of -the theatre, could no more relish the phraseology of their peculiar world -and their peculiar philosophy. The higher powers argued thus: "Argot is the -ordinary communication between formats of all descriptions, whether they -plot against the peace and well-being of society, or bewail their -misfortunes at the bagne; _ergo_, it is not a fit and proper dialect -to be spoken before gentlemen and ladies, honest citizens and their wives -and children; _ergo_, it must not be spoken." So the poor gamin of -vicious propensities must be content in his hours of relaxation to learn -the language of that half of the world to which he does not belong. - -{693} - -Yet many of his pet words are not of a low or disreputable origin. Such is -the word _Binette_, nowhere heard now except among the folk who live -by their wits, and yet presenting a noble and sublime image in the days of -the Grand Monarque, in fact, no less an object than his flowing and -majestic peruke. Binette of the Rue des Petits Champs (street of the little -fields) was his majesty's hair-dresser, and a great man would feel his -dignity outraged if a hint was given that his wig was not -_confectioned_ by the great Binette. Now from Caesar to the wisp that -stops a bung-hole, the descent is not greater than between the Binette (the -wig, not the man) of the seventeenth and that of the nineteenth century. - -In thieves' Latin _ardent_ represents a candle. The thief has -accurately preserved the vocabulary of the Hotel Rambouillet, the Holland -House of the seventeenth century. One of the _Precieuses_ of that -temple of literary elegance, when directing the lackey to snuff the candle, -would thus express herself: "_Inutile, ostez le superflu de cet -ardent!_" [Footnote 243] - - [Footnote 243: This anecdote reminds us of a tradition not forgotten - among the gyps of T.C.D. A very learned fellow, dismounting from his - steed some time during the dark ages, said to a little boy, "Juvenile, - circumambulate the quadruped round the quadrangle, and I shall - recompense thee with a pecuniary remuneration."] - -The gamin is not great on the subject of verbal roots: he uses the words, -but does not trouble himself about the quarter from whence they come. He is -not aware that his own name is the _galopin_ (tavern-boy) of the -middle ages. When he says that such or such article of dress, or food, or -what you will, is _chouette_, (nice,) he is merely retaining the -_souef_ (doux) of the old French poetry. His friend is his -_copin_, the _compaign_ (comrade) of old times; the boy he -despises is a _capon_, the name applied to the Jews in the days of -Philip the Fair. His _rigolo_ comes to him from the verb -_rigoler_, (to amuse one's self,) so often used in _Maistre -Pathelin_, our Village Lawyer, a farce of the fifteenth century. An -umbrella is a _rifflard_ with him, though he is little aware that it -gets that name from _Mons. Rifflard_, the "Paul Pry" of the _Petite -Ville_ of Picard. - -Edouard Fournier, in his Enigmes des Rues de Paris, relates this -characteristic anecdote on the subject of slang. It is the antithesis of -O'Connell's victory over the fish-woman. - - "A lady of the Halles (Fish Market) had one day a war of words with a - _meraicher_, (market gardener,) and, ye gods! such words as they - were! She told off one by one her relentless rosary of abuse. A - grave-looking man stood still, and attentively listened to the explosion - of the wonderful vocabulary. - - "'Not bad, not bad,' said he from time to time. At last came the famous - phrase, 'You're no better than a melon,' and it served for finale to the - torrent of invectives--for the bouquet to the fire-work of coarse words. - - "'Very well, indeed!' cried the grave man. 'And why very well?' said I. - 'Because,' said he, 'this woman has just rendered homage to the - literature which I profess.' 'How?' 'She has nearly spoken Greek. Yes, - indeed, monsieur, the language of Homer. She has just honored this - bumpkin with the epithet [Footnote 244] which Thersites, in the second - book of the Iliad, line 235, applied to the Grecian kings in council.'" - - [Footnote 244: The word used by Thersites is [Greek text], plural of - [Greek text], soft or ripe, as applied to fruit, and figuratively to - inactive or effeminate persons.] - - - An Unhealthy Suburb. - -With any one's experience of the worst parts of the existing cities of -Europe, it would be hard for him to realize the condition of the Quartier -Montmartre in former days. The terrible description in Victor Hugo's -romance gives only one small phase of it. All the results of extreme -poverty, vice, negligence, and thorough laziness united to make a scene of -squalor and wretchedness without parallel. There was no thought of removing -nuisances, and at this day a section of some heaps of the old strata -presents as curious a variety of substances as were ever discovered by the -great Abbeville explorer himself. Some future professor, descended from Mr. -Chaillu's gorilla, finding various evidences of human workmanship so far -below the ordinary platform of the human family in A.D. 2500. will set them -down as a deposit of the year 10,000 A.C. -{694} -Many a police-raid was effected on the inhabitants of the Cour des -Miracles, of the Rue Temps-Perdu, of that of the _Vide Gousset_, -(pickpocket,) of the Bout-du-Monde, of the Ville-Neuve; many hundreds -seized and sent to the Salpetrière (house of correction) or to La Nouvelle -France, (Canada,) and yet the wretched little dens in the filthy, -ill-smelling lanes would not fail to get new tenants. "Unfeeling nobles, -bad government!" say we. At last in the days of Louis XIII. it was -announced that any artisan choosing to settle in the quarter might exercise -his trade without let or hindrance, or paying duty or incurring expenses -incidental to the carrying on of trades in other portions of the city. -Makers of articles of household furniture chiefly availed themselves of the -privilege; a better class of inhabitants took possession, and the -atmosphere improved. - -This (northern) quarter of the city has been, from the earliest times, -incommoded by the number of streams arising among the northern and eastern -hills adjoining the city, (Paris lying in a natural bowl-like cavity,) and -endeavoring to find their way under houses and streets to the Seine. Many -efforts have been made from time to time, to provide courses for these -troublesome rivulets in channels arched over or open to the day; yet so -late as 1855 some houses in the Faubourg Montmartre were filled to the -ground floor by subterranean inundations; the inhabitants wondering what -could bring water into their kitchens and cellars, and they so much above -the level of the Seine. At the present time, under the strong volition of -the emperor, an effective attempt is being made at the formation of a large -subterranean river and its feeders. - - - Begging A Thriving Business. - -Many visitors to the existing exhibition, while exploring and admiring the -Place de Carrousel and its surroundings, will scarcely dream of the space -between the Tuileries, the Louvre, and the Palais Royal having been once -occupied by an hospital for three hundred poor blind men. This at present -magnificent quarter was a poor place in the days of St. Louis, and there -were the straggling habitations built. Dust-heaps and filth of many kinds -distinguished the locality, and in this uninviting spot the three hundred -blind endured life from the days of good Saint Louis. - -At its first institution, the hospital was a mere night refuge--a retreat -where the blind men were sure of a house over their heads and a sort of bed -to sleep on after their _criailleries_ all day through the streets. -The old charities were seldom complete in themselves. The pious founders -did a certain portion of the good work, leaving to the public an -opportunity of completing it. Philip the Fair added a dress stamped with -the fleur de lys, and the poor blind man thus equipped was on a level with -_Edie Ochiltree_, and so privileged, he "_tote jor ne finit de -braire,_" (the whole day he ceased not his braying,) as an old writer -coarsely expressed himself. - -There was a parallel to this institution in higher quarters, even in -literary regions. In the College of Navarre, placed under the highest -patronage, the pupils went in the morning through the streets, stretching -out the hand, and crying, "Bread, bread for the poor scholars of Madame de -Navarre!" - -The three hundred were well looked after, all things considered. They had a -poor-box in every church of France. They were privileged not only to beg at -the doors, but even to exercise their quest in the church itself. A -difficulty arose from the circumstance of some churches affording to the -"King's Bedesmen" a better harvest than others. All or most would naturally -crowd to fleece the richest and most charitable congregations, and dire -confusion would ensue. -{695} -But there were heads equal to the emergency. Once a year an auction -was held; a good church was set up, bedesmen bid for its possession; it was -knocked down to the best small batch of bidders, and the money they gave -then, or as they made it, put into a common fund. The least well off or -least speculative got the worst stands, but they received their share of -the money arising from the auction. - -This exceptional state of things continued till within the second half of -last century, when the office of grand almoner became invested in the -Cardinal de Rohan. The wretched habitations of the three hundred, their -poor church left to ruin, the dust-heaps and pools of evil odor with which -they were surrounded, so badly harmonized with the neighborhood of the -Palais Royal, the Tuileries, and the Louvre, between which they lay, that -it entered the speculative mind of the cardinal that it would be a -profitable business to remove the poor inmates to a more cleanly and -comfortable domicile, and sell the large plot of land on which the -straggling settlement reposed. A solvent company was found, the land -disposed of for six millions of livres, and the Hotel of the Black -Musketeers, Rue de Charenton, was purchased for the blind men at somewhat -less than half a million. This took place in 1779, and since then the -churches and the streets have been relieved from the annoyance of the -_state_ beggars. They still occupy the Hotel Rue de Charenton, and the -curious traveller now passing down the magnificent Rue Rivoli, with palaces -on either hand, can scarcely persuade himself that the space round him was, -less than a century since, a dedalus of dirty lanes and ill-kept, squalid -dwellings. - - - The Morgue And Its Derivation. - -"Whoe'er was at Paris must needs know the Grève" was said and sung three -half-centuries ago. Whoever was or was not at Paris must have heard of the -Morgue, where the bodies of unknown persons who have met with sudden deaths -were exposed for some days, to be recognised by their friends. Perhaps he -is not aware of the cause of applying to the temporary abode of the quiet -dead a name implying such a different idea. The dismal little building is -now not to be found in its old locality, Quai du Marché Neuf, south side of -the Cité. - -In the great as well as the little Chatelet (prison) of past days there was -a room called the little prison, where new-comers were brought "to sit for -their portraits," that is, undergo a rigorous inspection as to their -features by the lower officials of the place. Readers of Pickwick's -incarceration will not require an elaborate description of the process. -Now, such a sharp and supercilious scrutiny of the countenance is expressed -by the word _Morgue_. The humorist, D'Assoucy, has left a description -of the inspection he underwent on such an occasion, and the terror into -which he was thrown by a long sharp knife, wielded by a short, broad, and -fat officer, but which was only designed to cut away the ribbons that -secured his breeches, and the band of his hat, and thus remove all -available instruments of self destruction in the Grand Chatelet. - -When this apartment changed its destination, and became a place of exposure -for the dead, it continued to retain its name; and, on the destruction of -the building, the title went to the sinister-looking edifice built for the -same purpose. While the Chatelet remained, the sisters of the hospital -convent of St. Catherine, corner of the streets of St. Denis and of the -Lombards, bestowed the rites of sepulture on the poor remains not -recognized. The other specialty of the good sisters was the relief of poor -women in destitute circumstances. - -{696} - -The easily led populace of Paris were long under the impression that a -visit to the Morgue, and the consequent withdrawal of a corpse, would cost -the friends a hundred and one crowns. So the bereaved families were seldom -in a hurry with their visit. In vain did the lieutenant of police in 1736 -endeavor to undeceive them. - -In 1767, a gentleman, taking the packet boat from Fontainebleau to Paris, -quitted the conveyance rather hurriedly, leaving a case behind him. After -some little delay it was opened, and much terrified were the assistants at -finding what appeared the body of a young man who had been strangled. A -commissary of police was called on, accompanied by a surgeon. A -procès-verbal was drawn up by them, and the body sent to the Morgue to be -identified. Soon after, the negligent or guilty passenger arrived in a -hurry at the office of the boat, and asked for the forgotten parcel. His -request was followed by his seizure and presentation before the worthy -magistrate, who had so laudably done his duty. On being charged with the -murder, he burst into a fit of laughter, and covered the poor official with -confusion by announcing that the corpse of the strangled man was a mummy -which he was just after bringing from Egypt, and had forgotten to carry -away with the rest of his luggage. In order to get his property out of the -dead-house, he was obliged to make application to the lieutenant of police, -and this circumstance soon scattered the news far and near. A few nights -after, all Paris was breaking its sides in the theatre laughing at an -uproarious farce by Saconnet, displaying in the richest colors the wisdom -and skill of the police commissary and the surgeon. Repeated instances were -made by these gentlemen to the minister, M. de Sartines, to restrain the -representation. On the last time he observed: "Toleration is a virtue which -I love to practise to the utmost limits allowable." The piece had a run of -forty nights. - - - A King And Minister Well Matched. - -Among the many puzzles met in history and biography is the retaining of his -place by Louvois, prime minister to Louis XIV. Every student of history is -aware of the great self-esteem which dwelt within the monarch; and it would -be natural to suppose that, in order to retain his favor, officer or -minister should diligently cultivate obsequiousness, and have no will or -opinion but that of his master. It was not so, however, with this minister; -and it is a historic fact that the king resolved on a great public -undertaking on account of a difference he had with his minister in their -guesses at the breadth of the window at which they were standing. Louis -said it was such a breadth, Louvois guessed it was an inch or two more or -less, and insisted on the exactness of his eye-calculation so persistently -that the king called for a ruler to decide the matter, and resolved on a -transaction which he knew would be distasteful to his opinionative -contradictor. - -In Louis' reign, and under the superintendence of Louvois, was raised the -noble pile of the Invalides--a building which will be, or ought to be, at -least, visited by every one who takes interest in the well being of men who -have suffered in the defence or for the glory of their country. Mansard, -the architect, who has given his name to French attics (_Mansardes?_) -was much incommoded by the impatience of the minister, whose self -appreciation would be content with nothing less than the carving of his -bourgeois coat of arms in the neighborhood of the royal achievement -wherever it was set up. He gained only mortification by the movement, as -Louis had them all effaced. The great man was enraged at this instance of -disrespect, and was obliged to content himself with a posthumous revenge. -He would be buried at the Invalides, and, through the complaisance of the -curé, M. de Mauray, it was done. His body was laid in one of the vaults, -but, after all, was not allowed to remain there. The king's parasites gave -him information, and the corpse was removed. - -{697} - -Louvois, fearing that something of this kind would happen, was resolved to -attach his memory to the Invalides by surer means. In one mansarde he got -sculptured a barrel of powder in the act of explosion, signalizing the war -he had originated; in another, a plume of ostrich feathers; and, in two -others, an owl and a bat, all emblematic of his high dignity, his wisdom, -and wakefulness. The masterpiece, however, was a wolf, the upper part only -seen, surmounted by a tuft of palm-leaves, holding the _OEil de Boeuf_ -between his forepaws and looking intently into the court. Thus was a pun in -marble executed: _(le) Loup voit_ (the wolf is looking)--Louvois, both -having the same sound, and the great man's name inseparably connected with -the Invalides. - ------- - - Original - - Playing With Fire. - - -There was a fine specimen in Birmingham, the other day, of a style of -theological disputation which we hoped had gone out of vogue. A poor wretch -named Murphy, a paid agent of the London Protestant Electoral Union, had -been travelling for some months about the counties of Stafford and Warwick, -circulating obscene tracts upon the confessional, ranting about priests and -nuns, retailing all the absurd and wicked stories against the Catholic -religion which have formed the stock in trade of a certain class of zealots -and religious demagogues for the last three hundred years; and very -naturally his disgusting tirades had stirred up a dangerous sort of public -feeling. The lower classes of the Protestants were taught to look upon the -Catholics as savage, wild beasts, given up to all manner of immoral -practices, enemies to all human happiness, thirsting for blood, rapine, and -revolution, and wedded to the stake, the faggot, and the thumb-screw. The -lower classes of the Catholics were compelled to bear the taunts and -insults which were certain to be provoked by this rage of popular -prejudice, and moreover to listen to the grossest attacks upon what they -held in most affectionate reverence. Of course, sensible Protestants, as -well as educated Catholics, felt nothing but pity and contempt for the -ravings of such a man as Murphy; but unfortunately it is not educated and -sensible people who make all the trouble in the world, nor were they -educated and sensible people who formed the bulk of Mr. Murphy's audiences. -Wherever he went, he made a popular disturbance. Blows and brickbats -followed in his train like dust behind rolling wheels. The magistrates in -one town confiscated his books on account of their indecency. At last he -came to Birmingham. The mayor and council refused him the use of a public -hall, but his disciples built him an immense wooden tabernacle; and there, -while an angry crowd raged and threatened about the doors, he began a five -weeks' course of lectures on the atrocities of popery. What an instructive -contrast was then presented! In the streets Catholic priests were going -about among the mob, begging and commanding them to drop their menacing -hands and withdraw peaceably to their homes. In the tabernacle this fiery -ranter was declaring that every Catholic priest was "a murderer, a -cannibal, a liar, and a pickpocket;" that the papists were thirsting for -his blood, but durst not take it; that they might pelt him with stones, but -God would put forth his arm and prevent his being hurt; they might raise -their bludgeons against him, but God would ward off the blows. -{698} -Need anybody ask what was the result of all this? A riot broke out and -raged for two days; and, as always happens in riots, the greater part of -the disorder and destruction was caused not by those who began the fray, -but by professional thieves and rowdies who seized the opportunity to -plunder. - -Now, of course, we have no desire to apologize for the unwarrantable mode -taken by the Birmingham Catholics to silence this itinerant preacher. -Rioting is both a great blunder and a great crime. But who was the more to -blame? Was it the pulpit mountebank who pelted his audience with well-nigh -intolerable insults, or the uneducated laborers who resented them? Our Lord -tells us, when we are smitten upon one cheek, to turn the other; but we all -know that the custom of human nature is to smite back. If you first stir up -the angry passions of a crowd of excitable Irishmen, and then dance into -the midst of them, and dare them to come on, it will not be surprising if -you dance out again with a bloody nose and a torn coat. If you shake your -fist at a man, and assure him that he cannot hit you if he tries ever so -hard, it is very probable that he will try; and if you are hurt, you will -have yourself to blame. It is not safe to go near gunpowder with a lighted -candle. All England seems to have thought as we do about the Birmingham -affair, and Murphy has been unanimously awarded the responsibility for the -outrage by the ministers in parliament, and by all the respectable -newspapers, even by such prejudiced journals as The Times. - -There have been many religious riots in Great Britain and America, but the -story is nearly always the same. They have had them in Birmingham before; -they have had them in Belfast and Dublin. Lord George Gordon got up a -famous one in London, and Gavazzi was the cause of one in Montreal. The -Native American movement in 1844 gave us two dreadful riots in -Philadelphia, and, but for the firmness and sagacity of Bishop Hughes, -would have provoked another in New-York. In the train of the Know-Nothing -excitement ten years later followed a long array of incendiary preachers, -some of whom were proved to have been expressly hired to provoke -disturbance; and what was the result? Churches were sacked, torn down, -burned, or blown up with gunpowder in Manchester and Dorchester, -New-Hampshire, in Bath, Maine, and in Newark, New-Jersey. A church in -Williamsburg was barely saved from the flames by the opportune arrival of -the military. A street-preacher in New-York named Parsons was very nearly -the cause of a riot in December, 1853; but in this instance also Archbishop -Hughes succeeded in keeping the Catholics quiet. All over the country, in -fact, rapine and incendiarism seemed rampant; but The New-York Tribune -justly observed: "It is worthy of remark that, while five or six Catholic -churches in this country have been destroyed or ruined by an excited -populace, not a single Protestant church can be pointed out which Catholics -have even thought of attacking." - -No reasonable man will deny that the frantic sort of propagandism which -stirred up all these acts of violence does more harm to its own cause than -to that of its adversaries. No honest and rational Protestant wants to -trust his defence to a Murphy or a Parsons. The street ranters are -dangerous allies and despicable enemies. But the trouble is that after the -fools have made the disturbance there are always knaves ready to keep it -alive. No sooner had the excited Catholics begun to throw stories at the -Birmingham tabernacle than the scourings of the jails, the pestiferous -brood of the slums and alleys, began to sack the pawnbrokers' and jewellers -shops. And then down came from London a member of Parliament--the -notorious Mr. Whalley, whose incessant attacks upon popery in the House of -Commons are a standing matter of laughter; and he and Murphy made speeches -side by side, one not much more sensible than the other. -{699} -We shall, no doubt, see the Protestant Electoral Union, of which both these -gentlemen are pillars and ornaments, trying to make political capital out -of the affair. So, too, in the United States: there has always been a -political organization at the back of the zealots who have stirred up -religious riots, and there have always been politicians to scramble for the -fruits of bigotry, if not to plant the seed. - -Is there any reason why we may not have in New-York a repetition of the -outrages of Birmingham or Philadelphia? Heaven be praised! we have not, so -far as we know, a Protestant Electoral Union; but we have Whalleys enough, -and as for Murphies, the world is full of them. There is no need to build a -tabernacle; with us they speak through the press. A lie shouted from a -platform is not more dangerous than a lie sent flying over the country in -the pages of a newspaper. If you want to produce a quick sensation with a -good bouncing calumny, the best way perhaps is to speak it out by word of -mouth; but for permanent effect commend us to print. There is an American -journal which has been acting the part of a Murphy for a long time past, -and has lately been flying at popery with more rage than ever. In a recent -number of Harper's Weekly there was a horrible story of the confessional in -Rome, which might rival the wildest romances of Mrs. Radcliffe. It showed -us a sinner getting absolution before he could summon courage to confess -his sins, and a young girl murdered by monks and buried under the church -pavement; "for in that wonderful but priest-ridden city," says the writer, -"the papal clergy act almost with impunity." And the other day, in the same -paper, there was a picture of a Roman confessional, a row of penitents -kneeling before it, while a priest leaned over the door and absolved them -by tapping each one on the head with a rod. This wonderful device, as our -Catholic readers will at once perceive, was borrowed from the symbolical -wand of office borne by the penitentiaries at the Roman court; but Harper's -Weekly puts the whole sacrament into the tap of the wand. "This," says the -editor, "is a faithful representation of the manner in which sins are -forgiven in the confessionals of St. Peter's at Rome." And then follows a -long article, in the true Murphy vein, about confession, and indulgences, -and purgatory, and many other points of Catholic doctrine. The pope, we are -told, claims the power of damning souls to _hell_, and admitting whom -he pleases into heaven. The holiness which he rewards is not Christian -holiness; the sins which he punishes with eternal fire are not the sins -which Christ denounced. "Sincere penitence as a ground of forgiveness has -been practically laid aside, and simple confession has taken its place." -Indulgences are mere merchandise, and money will at any time buy a soul out -of purgatory, just as "the performance of certain arbitrary ceremonies -which have no more connection with vital Christianity than had the rites of -pagandom" will open the gates of heaven. Then the writer, after assuring us -that the pope is afraid of America, passes on to the ridicule of relics, -and of many pious practices, and winds up his article with a prediction -that the Christian world will sooner or later be freed from all these -mummeries and superstitions, and all mankind be sensible and enlightened -Protestants. - -Now, to what does all this tend? We dare say the writer of this tirade -supposed he was telling the truth, but what was his purpose in telling it? -Did he expect to make converts by it? When we seek to be reconciled with an -enemy, do we begin by insulting him? Will it dispose an adversary to listen -to your arguments with a favoring ear if you open the discussion by -spitting in his face, and calling him a fool, and reviling all that he -holds in highest respect? Billingsgate is not gospel. When the Holy Ghost -came down upon the apostles on the day of Pentecost, those chosen preachers -of divine truth did not straightway begin to blackguard the Jews. -{700} -When St. Paul preached at Antioch, he did not call the pagan pontiffs -"ragamuffins," as Mr. Murphy called the Catholic clergy, nor did he try to -convert the Jews by saying of their high priest what the Birmingham -Boanerges said of the pope, that he was "the greatest old rag and bone -grubber in the universe." And does the Journal of Civilization expect to -convert Catholics by caricaturing the pope, and telling scandalous stories -about the church, and burlesquing her doctrines? As we said before, we feel -bound to presume that the writer believed all he said; but it was so easy -for him to know better. The doctrine which he ascribes to Catholics we so -earnestly repudiate in all our books, in all our pulpits, and in all our -practical life, that we have a good right to complain indignantly, and to -charge him with a carelessness hardly more pardonable than dishonesty. - -We say this carelessness is a very grave offence, because such calumnies -against religious bodies never have but one effect--exasperation, and -possibly riot. There is just the same material for a riot in New-York that -there was in Birmingham. There are ignorant and hot-headed men, both -Protestants and Catholics, who are ready enough to come to blows if you -once charge them full of religious ire, and then bring them in contact; and -there are thieves and street brigands enough in any large city to push on -the work of destruction when once it has been started. We know very well -that a hundred such stories and pictures would never make a riot by -themselves. We know very well that there are not a half dozen Catholics in -New-York who would be wicked and silly enough to resent such insults with -violence. What we complain of is, that vituperation and calumny can hardly -fail to create a dangerous antagonism of feeling which, at any unforeseen -provocation may ripen into bloodshed. Once teach opposing classes of the -people to loathe each other, and how long will the public peace be safe? -Let papers like Harper's Journal of Civilization (bless the mark!) keep on -stirring up the bad old blood, reviving the dead old lies, reawakening -dormant prejudices, and filling the two denominations with mutual hatred, -and the least little spark may suddenly kindle the whole hateful mass into -a sweeping conflagration. Argue with us, if you will, and we will meet you -in the calm, gentle, Christian spirit without which all controversy must be -worse than useless. Tell us that we are wrong, if you think so, and we will -show you wherein we are right. Surely a Christian minister can discuss -mooted questions of theology without flinging his Bible at his adversary's -head. Civilized gentlemen can talk over their differences without loading -each other with vile epithets. There is only one way in which religious -disputation can be profitable or even tolerable; let us come to that way at -once; but, above all, no more lies; no more playing with fire. - ------- - -{701} - - Original. - - Christianity And Its Conflicts. [Footnote 245] - - [Footnote 245: - Christianity and its Conflicts, Ancient and Modern. - By E. E. Marcy, A.M. New-York: - D. Appleton & Co., Broadway. 1867. Pp. 480.] - - -The title of this work indicates that its scope is very comprehensive, and -that its execution involves a great deal of practical labor and research. -The author says in his preface that he has aimed "to display Christianity -as it was established by Jesus, as it has been developed and perpetuated by -the apostles and their successors, and to correct the erroneous impressions -which so generally exist respecting it, and also endeavored to exhibit a -general outline of the various conflicting elements which have been arrayed -against the Christian system up to the present time." - -He has been as good as his word, for he has given us an instructive and -able sketch of the heathen philosophers and religions, and of the corrupt -social conditions which opposed themselves to the introduction of -Christianity; of the struggle for so many ages with the barbarism of -Europe; and, finally, in what we consider by far the most vivid and -interesting portions of his work, he has laid bare the character, effects, -and tendencies of what is called the Reformation, and the present condition -of Christendom, religious, social, and political. - -To judge his work correctly, we must bear in mind that the author is a -layman, the business of whose life has not been the study of theology. A -man of liberal education, a physician, and of eminence in his profession, -his attention has been drawn to the consideration of the grand problems of -man's destiny; he has studied and reflected upon them, realized their -importance, and given us the result, as he says, "for the sole purpose of -vindicating truth and the religion of Christ." - -The testimony of an intelligent and cultivated layman on the subject of -religious truths has a peculiar value; for, although it may not be so -accurate and full in a theological sense, it often presents the arguments -in a more popular form, and with a personal conviction which impresses the -minds of many with a peculiar force. The author evidently feels deeply on -the subjects on which he writes. A citizen of the world, he feels a deep -interest in both the temporal and spiritual well-being of his fellows. As -he contemplates either false principles or the evil conduct of individuals, -the sentiment of indignation rises within him, and he expresses himself -frequently in animated and glowing language, and with a sort of passionate -energy which will be considered, no doubt, by those who do not sympathize -with him, as a blemish. We wish he had toned down some of his expressions -to avoid giving needless offence, and that appearance of exaggeration which -to the minds of some might cast suspicion upon the solid merit of his -conclusions. We regret particularly his political allusions. Without -entering at all into the merits of party politics, we wish they had been -kept out of this book altogether; or, if the author must pay off one -political party, we wish he had executed an equal and impartial justice -upon the other. There is enough of political selfishness, corruption, and -bribery in either political party to excite the indignation of every honest -man. -{702} -But we must not exact too much of a layman who has his strong political -views, and who considers it timely and for the public good to give them a -decided expression. What would be unbecoming in one in holy orders may be -permitted to a layman in the busy walks of life. We are not disposed to -forgive so easily the way in which he has spoken of New England. This -section of the country contains all sorts of people and all sorts of -opinions, good, bad, and indifferent. There may be more radicalism, more -scepticism, and more fanaticism here than elsewhere. It is a question we -think it idle to enter upon. The same principles prevail and have prevailed -in other sections of the country. It is wrong to single out New England or -its inhabitants to be held up to the scorn, ridicule, or hatred of the rest -of the country. It is quite too much the fashion nowadays to do so, and we -cannot too strongly reprobate a practice which sets one section of the -country at variance with another, perpetuates ill feeling and hatred, and -aggravates the very mischief it aims to remove. But we all know that those -who take warm interest in political questions are apt to have very decided -opinions and to express them in a corresponding manner, and we can well -afford to pass them by without allowing our equanimity to be too much -ruffled by them; and whatever may be the political opinion of any man, or -however much he may differ from our author, he must, we think, give him -credit for his courage and pluck in the fearless manner he comes out with -them. - -But let us come to the solid merits of the volume. The author shows us, in -the first chapter, the terrible corruption of morals and the false -philosophy prevailing at the time of the introduction of Christianity, and -the fearful struggle which it had with paganism. He deduces therefrom the -necessity of miracles and a proof of their truth. This is timely and -judicious, when a silly criticism is striving to overturn all the ideas of -common sense on this subject, and to destroy the historical testimony of -the truth of revelation. We hope this will be read and reflected upon by -those who have confused ideas on this subject. - -He proceeds to give us an account of the doctrines taught by our Lord Jesus -Christ, and holds up in relief the demand which he made on our unqualified -submission and assent to all the truths which he taught and all his -precepts. This is faith, and the foundation of religion and salvation. To -believe in Christ is to believe all that he taught and to do all he -commanded. As we are more fully aware what is the real meaning of the word -"faith," we can understand better the true character of the Christian -religion. We notice some inaccuracies of expression, and sometimes desire a -more profound insight into the matter, but find embodied a great deal of -useful information which may thus be brought within the reach of many who, -if we may judge from the ignorance displayed in the religious publications -of the day, have the most erroneous ideas on the subject. - -He shows the identity of the church instituted by Christ and the Catholic -Church, tracing the history of the church from its foundation up to the -time of the Reformation, and discussing those doctrines which are held in -the Catholic Church, though rejected by those who have separated from her. -The picture he portrays of the condition of the world at the commencement -of the Reformation is most opportune. Protestant writers have endeavored to -force the conviction on the minds of their readers that all or the greater -part of the progress of civilization has taken place since that event. -Nothing can be more untrue. The author proves to us that a continual -progress had been in course for centuries in a healthy and steady -advancement; and when we connect this with the account which follows of the -effects of this great historical event, in removing the restraints which -held man's pride and selfish passions within bounds; of the discord, -violence, and civil war which were the uniform result everywhere; we are -filled with regret that the harmonious development of the physical and -spiritual life of the nations, under the auspices of the church, was ever -interfered with. -{703} -It would have been a beautiful sight to have seen Europe, a commonwealth of -nations, bound together by the tie of one religious faith and the same -principles of morality, submitting their differences, without the necessity -of immense standing armies and ruinous wars, to the mild arbitration of him -whom they all acknowledged to be the Vicar of Christ, and the guardian of -Christian justice and morality. We must ask ourselves, not where we are -now, but what we would have attained had our efforts been combined, rather -than wasted in opposing one another. - -The church fulfilled her duty up to this time, against the obstacles thrown -in her way by the flood of barbarism which overflowed all Europe. She -christianized and civilized the people. She was constantly occupied in -reforming abuses; and, if such existed at the time of the Reformation, we -must acknowledge that there was every disposition to reform them within the -body of the church herself, without the least need of throwing off her -legitimate authority. This book ought to clear up many misapprehensions -only too common in the public mind. - -We then have an account of the doctrines of the reformers, drawn from their -own writings, followed by interesting and graphic sketches of the personal -characteristics of Luther, Calvin, and others. That of Luther is peculiarly -piquant, and is authenticated completely by copious extracts from his own -writings and those of his friends and associates. - -We hope the advocates of the Reformation, for the honor of their cause, -will keep the first reformers as much out of sight as possible, and cease -to compare them to St. Paul and the apostles. Their doctrines are pretty -well exploded, and, when brought forward as distinct propositions, are -reprobated by the universal sense of mankind. Unfortunately they still live -in a covert and hidden way to work out their evil and bitter fruits, as the -author fully shows in the subsequent parts of his work. - -Those who represent the reformers as saints, have a strange idea of -sanctity or even common decency. Dr. Marcy, in view of their immoral -eccentricities, adopts the most charitable construction possible in the -case of Luther and some others. We will let him speak for himself: - - "From an amiable, chaste, temperate, and devout man, he (that is, Luther) - became violent, ferocious, intemperate, licentious, blasphemous, and - sanguinary. From a firm, unwavering, and happy believer in the truths of - the church, he became the victim of innumerable doubts, changes, - perplexities, and fierce torments. From a condition of mental - tranquillity and intellectual equilibrium, he leaped into a state of - maniacal excitement with a very great perversion of all his intellectual - powers and faculties. As an innovator he habitually saw spectres, men - with tails, horns, claws, features of animals, and was pursued and - tormented by these morbid fantasies. A volume of these abnormal - manifestations might be cited in support of our position, but we have - presented a sufficient number to enable the impartial reader to form a - just conclusion of Luther's sanity or insanity." - -After this account of the reformers and their opinions, we have a striking -account of the fruits of their doctrines in Europe and America up to this -present time. It deserves to be read and reread. He calls attention to a -fact of which we are all too well cognizant, the miserable religious -discussions introduced and ever on the increase since the Reformation. -"Until the innovating revolution of the sixteenth century, the faith of -Christendom had been a unit; there were no divisions, no dissensions, no -false teachers or false doctrines in the Christian household. Men, women, -and children knew only one church, one faith, and one form of worship, and -were contented and happy in their religious convictions. -{704} -So universal was this unity, so thoroughly grounded was this faith, and so -general was the practical observance of the duties of religion, that -scepticism, the novelties of individuals, irreligion, and immorality were -comparatively rare. The Christian church had been made up of converts from -numerous nations and races, and there had been a continual struggle for -more than fifteen centuries between the church on the one hand and these -elements of ignorance and evil on the other; the church had finally -triumphed, true Christian civilization had fairly gained the ascendency -over barbarism, and a universal reign of Christian unity and concord was -rapidly dawning over the whole world, when suddenly the innovations of -Germany broke in upon this unity and harmony, arrested the onward progress -of Christianity, and deluged the world with distracting novelties, creeds, -and sects." Incessant wars and rapid deterioration of morals complete the -picture, the main outlines of which we can verify from our own observation. -In this connection the author has, we are glad to see, taken up the -favorite argument and grand trump card of the opponents of the Catholic -church, which is thus expressed: "Contrast the condition of Protestant and -Catholic countries, and see how much superior in wealth, intelligence, and -progress the former are to the latter." He shows that, when the facts are -not carefully manipulated and prepared for the purpose, there is no very -great contrast after all. He says: "Macaulay has contrasted the United -States and Mexico; Italy and Scotland; Spain and Holland; Prussia and -Ireland; candor should have induced this eminent writer to have made more -equal and just comparisons, as France and England, Belgium and Holland, -Austria and Prussia, Mexico, Peru, and Brazil with the Sandwich Islands and -other recently converted nations."' - -Making the comparison, not merely in regard to wealth and outward show, but -taking into account the statistics of crime, he shows that Catholic -countries are far in advance of their Protestant rivals in virtue and -morality. - -It is perfectly astonishing how the current idea in Protestant society -tends to deify materialism. - -Worldly prosperity and accumulation of wealth we unblushingly put forward -as the conclusive test of the truth or falsity of religious faith. Our Lord -said, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust -doth corrupt, but lay up treasures in heaven;" but a host of clerical and -lay gentlemen and philosophers shout themselves hoarse with the cry; "Your -Catholics have not the religion of Christ, for you do not seek after money -half hard enough. You are a deal too simple in your way of living; you -ought to multiply your cravings and desires more, and live a deal more -artificially than you do." Listen to Lecky, one of the great modern lights; -quoted by Dr. Marcy: "An accumulation of capital is therefore the first -step of civilization, and this accumulation depends on the multiplication -of wants. ... Hence the dreary, sterile torpor that characterized those -ages in which the ascetic principle has been supreme, while the -civilizations which have attained the highest perfection have been those of -ancient Greece and modern Europe, which were most opposed to it." Liebig, -quoted in a work of Youmans recently published, gives us this queer -definition: "Man's superiority to the beast depends essentially in his -faculty of discovering inventions for the gratification of his wants, and -it is the sum of them among a people which embraces the conception of their -'civilization.'" We feel much ashamed of our old-fashioned ignorance, but -really we used to think man's superiority over the beast consisted -essentially in his possessing an immortal soul. Dr. J. W. Draper launches -out in the following grandiloquent condemnation of the "Roman Church:" -{705} -"How different the result had it abandoned the obsolete absurdities of -patristicism"--we suppose he means the teaching of the fathers of the -church handed down to them from the apostles--"and become imbued with the -spirit of true philosophy--had it lifted itself to a comprehension of the -awful magnificence of the heavens above and the glories of the earth -beneath, had it appreciated the immeasurable vastness of the universe, its -infinite multitude of worlds, its inconceivable past duration." Poor old -church, why did you not abandon the consideration of the unseen world and -the inconceivable duration of eternity, and confine your attention to -astronomy and geology? Why teach men that God takes an interest in them -personally and holds them accountable, when he has created so many worlds -and rocks to take up their attention? This is philosophy with a vengeance, -the philosophy which is summed up by St. Paul in the short phrase. "Let us -eat and drink, for tomorrow we shall die." - -Greece and Rome reached the acme of this material civilization before they -fell. England at present seems to occupy their place. Kay, in his social -history of the English people, exposes the misery and vice of the great -mass the population, which, like the smothered fire of a volcano, may burst -out and involve the land in a universal ruin and desolation. - -It is well for us to take warning in time, for, in the headlong race after -money and material enjoyment, we are getting civilized to such a degree -that we seem to be in danger of outrunning all the antiquated notions of -honor and honesty. Our late upheaval of society, the unsettled state of -things, the insecurity of property, the enormous prices of labor and -living, are beginning to make us realize that "all is not gold that -glitters," and we feel confident that many a one will accept Dr. Marcy's -fearless _exposé_ of false civilization with thankfulness, and draw -the logical conclusions. - -In this connection is shown also the reason why our own country displays so -much greater advance in material prosperity than either Mexico or the -countries of South America; a reason, we are truly sorry to say, -substantiated by overwhelming testimony. It is this: The native population -of our own country, though a simple, innocent, warm-hearted people, who -received us with open arms, were hunted down and destroyed like wild beasts -in New England, Virginia, and elsewhere. In Mexico and South America they -still live and occupy the country. Here we have made a blank to be filled -by a full-blown European civilization of the growth of centuries; there -millions of the original people have been reclaimed from barbarism, are -living, increasing in number, and steadily progressing toward the mark we -have attained. Dr. Marcy tells truth in eloquent but indignant forms when -he says: "It is quite true that this Mexican Indian race is inferior by -nature to the Anglo Saxon or the Frank. It is quite true that the children -of those who were rude savages a few generations ago have not the -intelligence, or the energy, or the enterprise of the shrewd, money-loving -Puritan. It is quite true that the souls of these simple-minded children of -Montezuma are not wholly absorbed in the love of gain and of worldly pride -and ambition; but, nevertheless, they live, and can look upon the -consecrated graves of their fathers back to the days of Cortez; they -_still live_, and can worship in spirit and truth the God who created -them and gave them their country; they _still live_, and can behold -cities, towns, churches, schools, and cultivated fields, where their -fathers only saw dense forests and savage wildernesses; they _still -live_, and bless the church and the priests who have been their -preservers and benefactors." - -Our Lord Jesus Christ came to preach the gospel to the poor, and it is the -glory of the Catholic Church that her great heart has always beat warmly -and tenderly for the souls and bodies of the poor and down-trodden races of -mankind. -{706} -Her history on this continent is a history of a long line of true -imitations of Jesus Christ, and of the peaceful triumphs of his cross. -Wherever Protestantism prevailed, we have, as an unvarying result, the -speedy extermination by fire and sword of the aborigines. Even this is held -up by some writers as conclusive of the superior claims of Protestantism. -Their argument, divested of all ambiguity, would sound thus: "The red man -was in the way of our development, we shot him and cleared the track. What -is the use of making a fuss about shooting Indians or other inferior races? -It is a great deal better to do that than to try to keep the poor devils to -be a burden to themselves and to us. We Protestants understand better than -you weak-minded and superstitious Catholics how to deal with such matters, -and this proves that we, and not you, have the true Christianity." We speak -thus strongly because we feel strongly the impudence with which such -writers attribute to Christianity itself the grossest violations of its -very first principles. - -Let us excuse our forefathers as much as we can, but, in the interest of -the religion of Christ, let us not call their crimes virtues. There was -nothing in their religion powerful enough to enlighten their ignorance or -to control their passions; they had no church to lay down the stern, -undeviating principles of morality, and no confessional to apply them to -the individual conscience; and, therefore, as soon as an Indian stole a -horse or a cow, or plundered a hen-roost, his death and the extermination -of his tribe was a necessary and immediate consequence. And for the want of -the same authoritative moral restraint, according to many Protestant -writers who have taken the alarm, we are now on the high road to -exterminate ourselves. - -The Rev. J. Todd, D.D., a Congregational divine, all honor to him for his -conscientious candor, says, speaking of the disparity in the natural -increase of our foreign and native-born population, and of the immoral -causes of it: "There is nothing in Protestantism that encourages or -connives at it, but there is a vast ignorance as to the guilt of the thing. -But in the Catholic Church human life is guarded at all stages by the -confessional, by stern denouncement, and by fearful excommunications." - -The divine wisdom of the Founder of the sacrament of confession is most -signally vindicated in these few pithy words, which we leave to the -reflection of the reader. - -In the concluding portions of his work the author gives some most -interesting statistics of the growth and proportions of infidelity and -scepticism in our country, of the results of Catholic and Protestant -missions among the heathens, and of the state of religion throughout the -world. These make his work more complete, and will be received gladly by -many who have not had their attention called to these facts before. We -think they add very much to the completeness of the work, and it was a -happy idea of the author to put them in. Dr. Marcy's book ought to do a -great deal of good, and we do not doubt that it will. The number of -unpalatable truths told in it, and the direct, incisive way in which they -are told, have provoked and will provoke much unfavorable comment. Every -effort will be made to discredit it. It will be called vituperative, false, -and calumnious. Its truth--and Dr. Marcy has taken good care to back up all -his assertions with the best of evidence--is the best refutation of all -such accusations. We find every day all sorts of false and calumnious -statements, circulated without a particle of proof, in the books, the -periodicals, and newspapers of the land, against the persons and the -doctrines we hold most dear. It is of little use to reply, the lie is -circulated and the reply is left unnoticed. Our opponents take all their -representations of our doctrines and practices, at second hand, from the -writings of our deadliest enemies, and never think it worth while to verify -their statements by looking at the statements of our own councils and -standard writers. -{707} -This treatment is absolutely unfair, and the most respectable are blind to -its meanness, where we are concerned; but let the Catholic writer tell the -outspoken truth and back it up by genuine testimony of their own writers -and partisans, and the cry is at once raised of "calumnious, incendiary, -malicious," etc. etc. It will be easier to raise a cry against this book -than to answer its statements. When Marshall published his history of -Christian Missions, with its thousands of references to the most -unsuspected Protestant witnesses, we looked for a reply which would be -something more than merely throwing dust in the eyes of the public, but we -have looked in vain up to this time; its statements have never been -answered. So we feel sure it will be with this book. It may be called hard -names, but it will not be seriously answered. If it will be thoughtfully -read, we shall feel content. It will then, at least, be answered, as we -prefer to see all honest representations of the truth answered, by the -removal of prejudice, the correction of many false ideas which prevail -concerning our holy faith, and the consequent desire, which we pray may -arise in not a few sincere minds, to examine more fully into its character -and the grounds of its claims to be the true religion of Jesus Christ. - ------- - - From Chambers's Journal. - - Thermometers. - - -An ordinary thermometer consists, as everybody knows, of a glass tube, -fixed to a scale. This tube contains a fine bore, and has a bulb blown at -one extremity. Some liquid, generally mercury or alcohol, is introduced -into the tube, the air is driven out, and the tube is sealed. The quantity -of fluid, say mercury, admitted into the tube is so regulated that at -common temperatures the bulb and a portion of the bore are filled. The -remainder of the bore, which is empty, affords space for the mercury to -rise. This arrangement renders very perceptible the alterations in the -volume of the mercury due to changes of temperature, a very slight increase -or diminution of volume causing the mercury to rise or to fall appreciably -in the fine bore. After sealing, the scale has to be adjusted to the tube, -and the instrument is complete. - -Thermometers of the most accurate make are called standard thermometers. In -their manufacture, numerous precautions are necessary from the very outset. -Even in so simple a matter as the choice of the tube of glass much care is -requisite. The bore has to be tested, in order to ensure that it is of -uniform capacity throughout. It is found that tubes, as they come from the -glass-house, contain a bore wider at one extremity than the other. The bore -is, in fact, a portion of a very elongated cone. In a hundredweight of -tubes, not more than half a dozen or so can be picked out in which the bore -is perfectly true. The bore is tested in a very ingenious though simple -manner. A bulb is blown, and a very small quantity of mercury is admitted -into the tube about as much as will fill an inch and a half of the bore. By -alternately cooling and heating the bulb, this delicate thread of mercury -is driven from one end of the tube to the other, and during this process -its length is carefully measured in all parts of the tube. -{708} -Should the length of the mercury alter in various situations, it is evident -that the capacity of the bore is not uniform throughout, and the tube must -be rejected. In blowing the bulb, an elastic ball, containing air, is used. -The ordinary method of blowing glass bulbs by means of the breath is found -to cause the introduction of moisture into the tube. - -The size of the bulb has next to be considered. A large bulb renders the -instrument slow in its indications of change, owing to the quantity of -mercury that has to be acted on. On the other hand, if the bulb is too -small, it will not contain sufficient mercury to register high -temperatures, unless the bore is exceedingly fine. - -The shape of the bulb is of importance. Spherical bulbs are best adapted to -resist the varying pressure of the atmosphere; while cylindrical bulbs -expose larger surfaces of mercury, and are therefore preferred for more -delicate instruments. Various plans have been suggested in order to obtain -thermometers of extreme sensitiveness for delicate experiments. Some have -been made with very small thin bulbs, to contain a very small quantity of -mercury; but in these the indicating column is generally so fine, that it -can only be read by the aid of a powerful lens. Instruments have been -contrived with spiral or coiled tubular bulbs; but the thickness of glass -required to keep these in shape nullifies the effect sought to be -obtained--namely, instantaneous action. Messrs. Negretti & Zambra, the -well-known meteorological instrument-makers, have recently succeeded in -constructing a thermometer which combines sensitiveness and quickness of -action, and which presents a good visible column. The bulb of this -thermometer is of a gridiron form. The reservoir is made of glass, so thin -that it cannot be blown; it can only be formed by means of a spirit-lamp; -yet its shape gives it such rigidity that its indications are not affected -by altering its position or by standing it on its bulb. The reservoirs of -the most delicate of these instruments contain about nine inches of -excessively thin cylindrical glass, the outer diameter of which is not more -than the twentieth of an inch, and, owing to the large surface thus -presented to the air, the indications are positively instantaneous. This -form of thermometer was constructed expressly to meet the requirements of -scientific balloon ascents, to enable the observer to take thermometric -readings at precise elevations. It was contemplated to procure a metallic -thermometer; but, on the production of this perfect instrument, the idea -was abandoned. - -The shape and size of the bulb having been determined, the workman next -proceeds to fill the tube. This is effected by heating the bulb while the -open end of the tube is embedded in mercury. Upon allowing the bulb to -cool, the atmospheric pressure drives some mercury into the tube. The -process is continued until sufficient mercury has entered. The mercury used -in filling should be quite pure, and should have been freed from moisture -and air by recent boiling. It is again boiled in the tube after filling; -and when the expulsion of air and moisture is deemed complete, and while -the mercury fills the tube, the artist dexterously removes it from the -source of heat, and at the same moment closes it with the flame of a -blow-pipe. It sometimes happens that in spite of every care a little air -still remains in the tube. Its presence is detected by inverting the tube, -when, if the mercury falls to the extremity (or nearly so) of the bore, -some air is present, which, of course, must be removed. - -The thermometer, after being filled, has to be graduated. Common -thermometers are fixed to a scale on which the degrees are marked; but the -graduation of standards is engraved on the stem itself, in order to insure -the greatest possible accuracy. The first steps in graduating are to -ascertain the exact freezing-point and the exact and to mark on the tube -the height of the mercury at these points. -{709} -The freezing-point can be determined with comparative ease. Melting ice has -always the same temperature in all places and under all circumstances, -provided only that the water from which the ice is congealed is pure. The -bulb and the lower portion of the tube are immersed in melting ice; the -mercury descends; the point where it remains stationary is the -freezing-point, and is marked on the tube. - -The determination of the boiling-point is more difficult. The boiling-point -varies with the pressure of the atmosphere. The normal boiling temperature -of water is fixed at a barometric pressure of 29.922 inches of mercury -having the temperature of melting ice, in the latitude of 45, and at the -level of the sea. Of course, these conditions rarely if ever co-exist; and -consequently the boiling-point has to be corrected for errors, and reduced -for latitude. Tables of vapor tension, as they are called, computed from -accurate experiments, are used for this purpose. Regnault's tables, the -most recent, are considered the best. - -An approximate boiling-point is first obtained by actual experiment. A -copper boiler is used, which has at its top an open cylinder two or three -inches in diameter, and of sufficient length to allow a thermometer to be -introduced into it, without touching the water in the boiler. The cylinder -is surrounded by a second one, fixed to the top of the boiler, but not -entering it, the two being about an inch apart. The outer cylinder is -intended to protect the inner one from contact with the cold external air. -The thermometer to be graduated is placed in the inner cylinder, and held -there by a thong of India-rubber. As the vapor of the boiling water rises -from the boiler into the cylinder, it envelops the thermometer, and causes -the mercury to ascend. As the mercury rises, the tube is gradually lowered, -so as to keep the top of the mercury just visible above the cylinder. When -the mercury becomes stationary, the position of the top of the column is -marked on the tube; and the boiling-point, subject to corrections for -errors, is obtained. - -The freezing and boiling points being determined, the scale is applied by -dividing the length between the two points into a certain number of equal -degrees. This operation is performed by a machine called a dividing-engine, -which engraves degrees of any required width with extreme accuracy. - -The scale used in the United Kingdom, in the British colonies, and in North -America, is that known as Fahrenheit's. Fahrenheit was a philosophical -instrument maker of Amsterdam. About the year 1724, he invented the scale -with which his name is associated. The freezing point of his scale is 32 -degrees, the boiling-point 212 degrees, and the intermediate space is -composed of 180 degrees. This peculiar division was thus derived. The -lowest cold observed in Iceland was the zero of Fahrenheit. When the -thermometer stood at zero, it was calculated to contain a volume of mercury -represented by the figures 11,124. When plunged into melting snow, the -mercury expanded to a volume represented by 11,156; hence the intermediate -space was divided into thirty-two equal portions or degrees, and thirty-two -was taken as the freezing-point of water. [Footnote 246] Similarly, at the -boiling-point, the quick-silver expanded to 11,336. Fahrenheit's scale is -convenient in some respects. The meteorological observer is seldom troubled -with negative signs, the divisions of the scale are numerous, and tenths of -degrees give all the minuteness usually requisite. - - [Footnote 246: Mr. Balfour Stewart has lately concluded a series of - experiments at the Kew Observatory, by which he has accurately - determined the freezing-point of mercury. The experiments, conducted - with great care, have shown that the freezing-point of mercury, like - that of water, is constant, and that it denotes a temperature of -37.93 - F. The freezing-point of mercury will now be used as a third point in - graduating thermometers which are intended to register extreme - temperatures.] - -{710} - -In 1742, Celsius, a Swede, proposed zero for the freezing-point, and 100 -degrees for the boiling-point, all temperatures below freezing being -distinguished by the negative sign (-). This scale is known as the -Centigrade. It is in use in France, Sweden, and in the south of Europe; it -has the advantage of decimal notation, with the disadvantage of the -negative sign. - -Reaumur's scale is in use in Spain, Switzerland, and Germany. It differs -from the Centigrade in this, that the freezing and boiling points are -separated by 80 degrees instead of 100 degrees. - -It would not be difficult to construct a scale which should combine all the -advantages of Fahrenheit's and of the Centigrade. Freezing-point should be -fixed at 100 degrees; and boiling-point should be fixed at as many hundred -divisions or degrees above 100 degrees as might be agreed on by practical -men as most convenient. The advantages of decimal notation would thus -remain as in the Centigrade scale, and the minus sign would be got rid of. - -And now, having applied the scale, and having exercised every precaution, -can we congratulate ourselves on possessing a perfect instrument? -Disheartening as it may appear, the standard instrument of to-day may not -be accurate to-morrow. It is more than probable that the freezing point -will become displaced. This curious phenomenon has never been -satisfactorily explained. Messrs. Negretti & Zambra, in their treatise on -Meteorological Instruments, (a work which abounds with information of a -most interesting nature,) say, in reference to displacement of the freezing -point, that "either the prolonged effect of the atmospheric pressure upon -the thin glass of the bulbs of thermometers, or the gradual restoration of -the equilibrium of the particles of the glass after having been greatly -disturbed by the operation of boiling the mercury, seems to be the cause of -the freezing-points of standard thermometers reading from a few tenths to a -degree higher in the course of some years." To obviate this small error, it -is the practice of the makers in question "to place the tubes aside for -about six months before fixing the freezing-point, in order to give time -for the glass to regain its former state of aggregation. The making of -accurate thermometers is a task attended with many difficulties, the -principal one being the liability of the zero or freezing-point varying -constantly; so much so, that a thermometer that is perfectly correct -to-day, if immersed in boiling-water, will be no longer accurate; at least, -it will take some time before it again settles into its normal state. Then, -again, if a thermometer is recently blown, filled, and graduated -immediately, or, at least, before some months have elapsed, though every -care may have been taken with the production of the instrument, it will -require some correction; so that the instrument, however carefully made, -should from time to time be plunged into finely-pounded ice, in order to -verify the freezing-point." - ------- - - From The Month. - - The Tuscan Peasants And The Maremna. - - -The Maremna is, in summer, the word that drives the sleep from many an -Italian woman's pillow as she thinks of the perils that her husband, her -brother, or her betrothed is encountering as he reaps the fertile harvest, -and gains, at the risk of his life, the wages that will enable him and his -to live through the winter. "A me mi pare una Maremna amara" is the burden -of the song with which many a child is rocked to sleep. And with reason. -The Maremna is the Littorale or shores of the Tuscan Sea; and there the -coasts that bound the blue waters of the Mediterranean are lined by tangled -jungles and pestilential marshes, whence at each sunset arises the baleful -fever, which, passing in scorn over the ruined cities that its pernicious -breath has depopulated, creeps along like the sleuth-hound until it finds -the hardy mountaineer returning from his day of labor, and smites him with -the wasting blight which saps his strength. -{711} -Yet year after year do the sons of Italy descend with unwearied energy to -these valleys and deadly plains, to reap the crops that have grown uncared -for but luxuriantly, death and disease stalking behind them, and the fear -of falling victims to the power of the evil air urging them to increased -exertions, in order that they may earlier return and share their scanty -gains with their wives and children. They march gayly, too, often singing -alternately in their rough monotone the songs they have composed -themselves, cheerful in the consciousness that they are fulfilling a duty; -and this although knowing that they have to fight a foe against whom -neither courage nor energy nor strength can avail, but whose damp breath -appears to draw the marrow from their bones and fill them with fever; -sometimes sending them weak and emaciated, useless as workmen, to their -native homes; sometimes in a few hours laying their bodies low, to lie, far -from family and friends, in unconsecrated ground. - -When the Italian peasants speak of the Maremna, they mean that district of -Italy which runs along the shores of the Mediterranean from Monte Nebo and -the mountains south of Leghorn over the flat marshes of the Tuscan shores, -and the desolate promontory of Monte Cervino, as far as the sunny shores of -Sorento and Amalfi. To the south of the Tuscan frontier the (to English -ears) more familiar name of Campagna is applied to the whole of that -portion of the Maremna which lies within the ancient Agro Romano; still -further to the south the word Maremna becomes identical with what are -called the Pontine Marshes. The mountaineers of Modena, Parma, and Tuscany -call the country which they periodically visit, whether south or north, -Maremna: the inhabitants frequently give it a local name. Undefined as are -its boundaries, and almost unknown to geography as is its name, its -characteristics are much the same throughout; everywhere we meet the same -wide plains, tangled jungles, ruined cities, wooded hills, ever-recurring -swamps and morasses; throughout the whole district the same terrible ague, -the same desolating fever, the fatal influence of the malaria, rage with -destructive effect. Although often characterized as a swamp or a marsh, yet -the Maremna by no means consists of plains like the fens; on the contrary, -there are several high mountains, which run down even into the sea: the -land near the coast is, however, in general flat. - -Part of the Maremna is cultivated, and produces grain; the greater portion, -however, is kept for pasture. As soon as the herbage begins to fail on the -mountains of Tuscany, the peasants drive their flocks down to the pastures -of the Maremna. There they remain six or seven months. The women and -children are left at home, and the men and boys during this time bear all -the privations, hardships, and dangers. An Italian poet exclaims: "Alas, -how often do they return home bowed down by fever! how often do they never -return! for, where they sought to earn the sustenance of their families, -they meet with death." While some descend with their flocks and act as -shepherds, the majority are there for the purpose of cutting wood, making -charcoal and potash; their last work is to reap the hay and corn, and then -those who are left alive return. Part of their wages has already been sent -home; the remainder they bring with them. - -Halfway between Leghorn and Pisa stands the old church of St. Pier d'Arena. -It is very large, and built as nearly as possible to resemble the form of a -ship. In old days the sea reached this point, and the name 'Arena' points -to the strand on which the church was built. Tradition states it was here -St. Peter landed on his visit to Italy, and the church was built to -commemorate the event. - -{712} - -One October, now many years ago, after a visit to this church, I met a -troop of shepherds and their flocks on their march to the Maremna. The -procession must have covered half a mile of ground. Never yet have I looked -on a troop of these sunburnt children of the south as they were wending -their way to a land whence all would not return, without saluting them even -as I would a forlorn hope advancing to attack the breach of a fortress. -Soldiers of duty, "Morituros vos saluto." And higher is the courage and -deeper is the love that impels these brave men, singing as they go, to -encounter the fever and thirst and pestilential air of the Maremna, than -that which animates many even of those soldiers who fight for God and king -and fatherland. - -Tears rose to the eyes of my companion as they passed. The flocks and herds -marched first, all "ruddled," that is, marked with red, to show to whom -they belonged. The procession was headed by the bell-wethers, with their -curved horns; in close attendance upon them are tall, handsome, -woolly-haired sheep-dogs, of a larger breed than ours, and with their necks -defended by a collar studded with nails, the projecting points of which -often turn the scale in the case of an encounter with the wolves. Nor are -these the only robbers against which these vigilant watchers defend the -sheep: if a human beast of prey, in shape of a thief, lies lurking in the -ditches that border the roadside, watching an opportunity for seizing a -lamb, they detect him and compel him to show himself. At night, too, they -march round the nets that enclose the little encampment, and give the weary -guardians time to sleep. Before they go to sleep, the peasants light a -fire, and make cheese and ricotti, (a sort of Devonshire cream,) with which -they repay the owner of the soil for leave to encamp on his grounds. As the -milk is far more plentiful on their return in May, a spirit of natural, -even-handed justice makes them generally contrive, both going and -returning, to halt at the same stations. A necessary member of this company -is the poet, or scribe, (_scrivano_.) To him is entrusted the task of -composing, or else writing down and correcting, the "Respects" which each -Tuscan shepherd is bound to send to his sweetheart. Collections of these -rustic poems have lately been made and published. They are full of pathos -and tenderness; the heart of the young exile yearns not only for his -_dama_, (sweetheart,) but for the beauties of the country he has left -behind him. Not his the harp to sing of festive banquets or goblets crowned -with flowers; he loves the streams of fresh water, the flowering grass, the -cultivated terraces, the pure air of his mountain home. Nature herself, and -sorrow, the nurses of beauty, have breathed on him a spirit of truth and -poetry as distinct from the sickly sentimentality and vice so often found -in modern verse, as is the wild rider of the Arabian desert from the puny -jockey who wins our handicaps. Strange, indeed, it would be if these poems, -written in danger, absence, and exile, possessed not a fragrance all their -own--one, however, that seems to escape not only in the most literal -translation, but even when, under a slightly different form, they appear in -the works of their more highly educated countrymen. - -Independently of the troops that march almost patriarchally with their -flocks and herds, like Abraham and Jacob, peasants often go down in gangs -of five or six to look for work; sometimes, though rarely, necessity -compels them to take with them their wives, and, if grown up, their -children. In this case they almost invariably travel in one of the long, -narrow, covered cars of the country. The men trudge along in groups of five -or six, with their best clothes in a bundle slung to a stick, and, if by -any possible contrivance it can be managed, with a gun upon their shoulder; -for game of all kinds, roe, deer, wild boars, porcupines, woodcock, and -snipe abound. -{713} -I once saw these groups arriving, one after another, at a seaport town near -the Gulf of Genoa, until they reached the number of 500 or 600: these all -sailed in a steamer to Corsica, to till the rich ground of that island. In -a fortnight the steamer returned, and freighted itself with an equally -large cargo of laborers. Many go to Sardinia, a still more unhealthy -island: their chief occupation there is mostly to fell the forests which -have been bought by speculators. Some find work at the Grand Ducal -Ironworks at Follonica, and at the mines in the interior of the island of -Elba; others help to till the Maremna, the soil of which is so fertile -that, if it lies one year fallow, it requires but to have the seed thrown -broadcast over it in order to yield every alternate year, and without -further tillage, a most magnificent crop. Others help to clear away the -forest and the thicket, and prepare the ground for future years, and thus -aid in the great works for reclaiming this land of jungle and fever that -have been now carried on for so many years; others simply to make charcoal -or potash, and to live by selling game at the neighboring towns. To sing -the songs of their native villages is their chief pleasure. In the daytime -one man will begin to sing at his work, and then another catches the -refrain, and begins in turn. At night, too, round the fire, (which is said -to scare away the fever,) they sing songs and tell their old stories, and -repeat their legends of saints and miracles. Thus it happens that they -return to their native villages, speaking the pure Tuscan language -undefiled by the patois of Corsica or the miserable jargon of the other -islands. - -The fever often attacks them, and they have to return home with their work -half done; often a father will have to send back his son, fearful that he -may die on the road, but conscious that, though he seems hardly able to -crawl, the lad's only chance of safety lies in his reaching the pure air of -the mountains before it is too late. - -If all goes well, they arrive at home by the 24th of June, the feast of St. -John. As they near their native place, the more active and eager members of -the different parties press on; and as soon as they are descried from the -village, a group is formed to meet them and welcome them back; then, too, -do the wives learn what their husbands have earned and whether they have -had a good year. - -We may fancy the inhabitants who have remained at home, assembling at the -old tower that bars the entrance to the village, eagerly asking and hearing -the news of the winter. "Old Giuseppe" has had a good year; Peppe da -Cacciono has had a touch of the maremna, but he got better; Renzo of -Cognocco's dead, died of "la perniciosa." "Poor fellow! God rest his soul!" -is the reply. "He had a bad attack last year; we never thought to see him -again." And then they will visit Renzo's family and condole with them. - -Not only do they bring back news to their own, but to all the villages that -they pass through. Before the eve of St. John you may often, as the Abbé -Tigri says, "meet a group of five or six, burnt nearly black with the sun, -in their worst dress, and wearied out by the long journey. _Ben -tornati_, welcome back!" you cry. "Do you come from far? Poor fellows, -how tired you seem!" "It is nothing now, sir," they say, "for we are going -home; but it was a hard time this spring." And, with that smile of singular -brightness which no poverty or suffering seems able to drive from their -face, they pass by. - -The maremna is more accessible now than when we last visited and travelled -through it. The works that were originated and so sedulously carried on by -the former government have been continued by the present, and have -fertilized and rendered comparatively healthy large portions of the country -which were formerly desolate and pestilential: a railroad has been made, -which familiarizes many a modern traveller with the country under its -present aspects, but tempts him to hurry by much that is interesting and -would have rewarded a longer sojourn. -{714} -We may endeavor in some future number to describe the impression made upon -us by this portion of Etruria, and to lead the reader - - "By lordly Volaterra, - Where scowls the far-famed hold - Piled by the hands of giants - For god-like kings of old; - By sea-girt Populonia, - Whose sentinels descry - Sardinia's snowy mountain-tops - Fringing the southern sky. - - "By the drear bank of Ufens, - Where flights of marsh-fowl play, - And buffaloes lie wallowing - Through the hot summer day; - By the gigantic watch-towers, - No work of earthly men, - Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook - The never-ending fen, - To the Laurentian jungle, - The wild-hog's reedy home." - ------- - - Miscellany. - - -_Pagan Irish Sepulchral Pillar-Stones_.--That standing stones were -used during pagan times in Ireland as sepulchral monuments appears certain; -for we find in the description of the royal cemetery of Brugh-na-Boinne, as -given in the Dinnsenchus contained in the Book of Ballymote, fol. 190, -translated and published by the late Dr. Petrie, in his treatise on the -Round Towers of Ireland, the following: "The _pillar-stone_ of Buidi -the son of Muiredh, where his head is interred." We also find quoted by the -same eminent antiquary, from the Leabhar-na-h-hide, an account of the death -of Fothadh in the battle of Ollarba, fought, according to the Four Masters, -in A.D. 285, with a description of his grave, in which is recorded, "And -there is a _pillar-stone_ at his carn; and an ogumis on the end of the -_pillar-stone_ which is in the earth." The earliest sepulchral -monuments mentioned in the Annals of the Four Masters are _carns_, -(large heaps of stones,) and _murs_ or _tuiams_, (mounds of -earth,) now more generally known by the name "barrow." However, that -pillar-stones may even then have been in use appears probable; for in the -opening paragraph of those Annals there is, "From Fintan is named Feart -Fintain" (that is, Fintain's grave) "over Loch Deirgdheire." The place is -still called by this name, and is situated on the northern slopes of the -Arra mountains, overlooking Lough Derg, county Tipperary. There is a -_pillar-stone_ at the grave, from which the hill is called -Laghtea.--G. Henry Kinahan, _in Athenoeum_. - - - -_The Monks' Model Farm in Algeria_.--The Mois Agricole contains an -interesting account of the Trappist Model Farm at Cheragas, in Algeria. In -1843, Marshal Bugeaud granted the Trappists one thousand two hundred -hectares of land, on which, two years afterward, three hundred thousand -francs were expended by the order in buildings. The stock of animals on the -farm is now magnificent. The Trappist cows each yield sixteen quarts of -milk a day, in a country where the native cows do not yield more than -goats; and the sheep and pigs are equally fine. A large quantity of honey -is also produced at Cheragas. There are in the establishment one hundred -and eight monks, of whom twenty-two belong to the choir, and ten are -priests. Twenty lay workmen are constantly employed at the convent, and -every poor or sick wayfarer is entitled to claim or receive aid or work -there. When the emperor visited the establishment, he discovered, to his -surprise that upward of a dozen of the monks had been soldiers of the -imperial guard. They explained to him that, after the severe discipline and -simple fare of the French army, the Trappist rule, ascetic as it is, did -not appear harsh to them. - ------- - -{715} - - - Original. - - New Publications. - - - The Monks Of The West, from St. Benedict to St. Bernard. - By the Count de Montalembert, Member of the French Academy. - Authorized translation. Vols. I., II., III. William Blackwood & Sons, - Edinburgh and London, 1861, 1867. For sale by the Catholic Publication - Society, 126 Nassau street, New York. - -These volumes bring down the history of monasticism to the year 633. The -third contains the history of monasticism in England, Ireland, and -Scotland, embracing a very full account of St. Columba and the institute of -Iona. It is very appropriately dedicated to the Earl of Demarara. The ill -health of the author has delayed the completion of his great work. We -understand, however, that two more volumes are published in France, and are -now being translated into English. The writings of Montalembert belong to -the highest class of French literature. The present work treats of a topic -of the greatest importance and interest to all students and educated -persons, but especially to all devout Catholics. English literature has -resounded for three centuries with calumnies, denunciations, and senseless, -ignorant ravings against monastic orders. Of late, we begin to hear a -different story from the most enlightened portion of Protestant writers. -These writers are, however, careful to qualify what they say in praise of -the nunneries of former times by a somewhat wearisome and monotonous -reiteration of the assurance that monastic institutions are worn out, -obsolete, contrary to progress, and unfit for the present age. It is time, -therefore, for the Catholic voice to make itself heard on the subject. The -illustrious and noble author is a believing and devout Catholic as well as -a learned historian and a most eloquent writer. His work is well -translated, and published in a style suitable to its choice excellence. It -should find a place in the library of every clergyman, every religious -house, seminary, and college, and on the table of every educated Catholic -layman. We would recommend it also to our Protestant friends, were we not -aware that most of them are afraid or ashamed to buy a Catholic book. Those -of them at least who pretend to agree with the church of the first six -centuries ought not to be afraid of it, as it comes down no later than A.D. -633. - - - The Trinity - - Control Your Passions - - Heroism In The Sick-room - - Is The Sacrifice Of The Mass Of Human Or Of Divine Institution? - - Why Did God Become Man? - - Being Tracts Nos. 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24 of the Catholic Publication - Society's Tracts. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 126 Nassau - street. - -The Catholic Publication Society continues to issue its useful and -instructive tracts. We give above the titles of those last published. Our -readers will find them to be in every respect equal to the former ones. -They will also be pleased to learn that the Society has obtained a House of -Publication, established in a first-class locality, No. 126 Nassau street, -New York, where all its publications can be had, together with all Catholic -books and pamphlets published either in this country or in England and -Ireland. The Society now everywhere meets with approval and encouragement. -Rev. Father Hecker lately visited the cities of Pittsburg, Cincinnati, -Wheeling, and Harrisburg, at which places he lectured in favor of the -Society. The Rt. Rev. Bishops and Rev. clergy gave him the most cordial -receptions, and very generous contributions were made for the object in -Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and Wheeling. Upon his return he lectured also at -St. Peter's church, Brooklyn, with the like success. Depots for the -Society's publications are now established at Mr. Quigley's in Pittsburg, -and at Benziger Bros. in Cincinnati, at which all that is issued by the -Society can be procured for the same price as they are sold in New-York. - -Father Hecker also intends visiting Europe this summer, to form relations -with the publishing houses of Dublin, London, and Paris, and will accept -the invitation proffered him to assist at the great Catholic Congress which -is to meet at Malines next September. - -{716} - -Our readers are already aware, from the article on Catholic Congresses in -our last number, how much has been done by the Belgian Congresses for the -diffusion of cheap Catholic literature. We trust Father Hecker may be able -to derive much useful information from what he will see and hear at -Malines, and turn it to good account for the furtherance of our own efforts -in the same direction. We are much gratified to see that the project of a -Catholic Congress suggested by our article has been warmly applauded on all -sides. Several of our journals, among which we notice the _Freeman's -Journal_, the _Boston Pilot_, the _New York Tablet_, and the -_Catholic Standard_ of Philadelphia, have noticeable editorial -articles on the subject in its favor. It is important, in case a congress -should be convened in our own country, that some one should attend this one -in Belgium, in order to obtain a knowledge of the plan and method of -organizing and conducting these assemblies. - - - The First Age of Christianity and the Church. - By John Ignatius Döllinger, D.D., - Professor of Ecclesiastical History - in the University of Munich, etc. - Translated by H. N. Oxenham, M.A. Oxford. - London: Allen & Co., 1860. - 2 vols. 12mo. New York: The Catholic - Publication Society. - -These two volumes are worthy of the perusal of every scholar. They form the -introductory portion of Döllinger's great work on Ecclesiastical History, -now in course of preparation, and are replete with the results of his vast -learning. At the same time, the reader of ordinary intelligence and -education need not be afraid of them. They are not dry or pedantic, but -written in a style of natural simplicity and freshness which makes them -attractive and entertaining as well as instructive. The translation, by an -excellent scholar and good writer, is extremely well done, and the -mechanical execution is in the best London style. Even the Dublin Review -has condescended to praise this work, and therefore those who might suspect -that it contains any peculiar opinions of what is called the 'Germanizing' -school need not fear anything on that score. Dr. Döllinger is a sound, -orthodox divine, and sincerely loyal to the holy see. The Roman theologians -have controverted some of his opinions very strongly, but they have never -called in question his orthodoxy, and we have good reason to believe that -the Holy Father regards him with esteem and paternal affection as a true -son of the church, who is doing her good service. The organs of that -theological school in Germany which Dr. Döllinger is supposed to sympathize -with the least always speak of him in the most respectful terms, even when -criticising some of his statements very unsparingly. Some of our Catholic -friends in England are not quite so charitable and moderate as the more -thoroughly ripened theologians of Europe. They seem disposed to erect -theological doctrines never defined or imposed by the authority of the holy -see into a standard of orthodoxy, and to question the thorough loyalty of -those who do not fully agree with themselves. Odious terms, such as the -nickname of 'mini-misers,' invented by that very dogmatical publication the -Dublin Review, are applied to them, and, in general, a quarrelsome kind of -domestic polemics seems getting quite the vogue among a portion of the -Catholic writers of England. We agree with F. Perrone, the great Roman -theologian, that this is an evil much to be deprecated, and likely to do -mischief. We do not sympathize with all that Dr. Döllinger has written, but -we feel bound to condemn the disparaging tone in which some of the writers -alluded to are wont to speak of him, and of others like him, who venture to -make use of the liberty allowed by the church respecting questions not -finally decided by authority. Happily, the present work is one about which -there can be no difference of opinion. It is a thoroughly learned, and at -the same time a readable and plain history of the first foundation of -Christianity by Christ and his apostles; and we feel sure that it will -contribute much to the edification of all who read it. - - - Poems. By Eliza Allen Starr. 12mo, pp. - 224. Philadelphia: H. McGrath. - -Miss Starr is already favorably known to the readers of THE CATHOLIC WORLD -by various poetical contributions to our pages. She writes with remarkable -grace and tenderness, with a very beautiful simplicity of style, and a -religious elevation of thought which ought to make her volume welcome in -every good Christian family. -{717} -The poetic impulse with her is neither a morbid yearning to sing imaginary -woes, nor a mere fancy for the jingle of sweet words. Her verses express -genuine and healthy feeling, and their tone is most melodious when her harp -is strung to sacred themes. There is at times a mild tinge of melancholy in -the book--a melancholy as of one who has suffered and struggled; but -through it all shines the radiance of religious happiness, as though it -were not all imaginary which the author sings in the character of "The -Sacristan": - - "Within thine altar's shade, - Lord, I my nest have made, - No more to roam: - Thine own abiding-place - Is mine for future space, - My rest, my home. - - .... - - "The earth, the air, the sea - Rejoice to serve with me, - With me to wait; - For prostrate nature sighs - To see her Lord disguise - His heavenly state." - -The little poem entitled "Espousals" is also full of real, unaffected -piety: - - "Haste to thy nuptials sweet - With glowing feet, - Thy inmost chamber fair, - O heart! prepare, - Therein, with joy, to bring - Thy spouse and king. - - "I see his coming light - Disperse my night! - O radiant orb of day! - Thou may'st delay - To quench thy feeble rays - In heaven's own blaze. - - "Lo! seraph tongues of flame - Announce that name - Whose echoed sweetness clings - Where'er it rings; - And thus informs with sound - Remotest bound. - - "O happy ears! attend, - And lowlier bend! - I feel his noiseless pace - Through heaven's blue space; - The stars but strew his floor, - And thus adore. - - "Celestial presence dear! - Thou Godhead near! - I yield my soul, my sense; - Omnipotence! - Behold, prepared, thy throne; - Oh! claim thine own!" - -In a different strain, but very pretty and delicate, is the following -"Song of Welcome": - - "My lonely days grew lonelier, - The shadows spread apace, - When on me, like a morning sun, - Arose thy smiling face: - Sad tears, sad tears, my joyful cheeks, - Keep not of you a trace. - - "The summer skies which o'er me bend - In beauty so benign - Are not so blue as the happy eyes - Now beaming into mine! - Heart's love, heart's love, what sun could cheer - If thine should cease to shine!" - -We commend Miss Starr's little volume with all heartiness, and we rejoice -that American Catholic literature has received so welcome an addition to -its scanty poetical stores. We ought not to omit a word of compliment to -the publisher for the liberal manner in which he has brought it out. The -rich cream paper, the clear type, and the excellent binding are signs of a -new era in the Catholic book manufacture at which we all must rejoice. - - - First Historical Transformations of Christianity. - From the French of Athanase Coquerel the Younger, - by E. P. Evans, Ph.D. 12mo. Boston: W. V. Spencer, 1867. - -This is a very weak and flippant production from the pen of a French -rationalistic Protestant, who imagines that he is a philosopher of history. -He pretends to show us various forms which pure Christianity has been made -to assume by the different apostles, doctors, or sects who in turn took -upon themselves to be its expositors. Of course, as Monsieur Coquerel the -Younger would think, they each and all made bad work of it, from St. Peter -down to the last publishing medium of spiritism. It is truly deplorable -that the pure Christianity which Monsieur Coquerel the Younger now sees in -all its simplicity should have had the misfortune to be thus Judaized, -Hellenized, Paulized, Peterized, Joannized, Romanized, and diversely -_ized_ by the Fathers of the church and heretics; and may we not also -add, Protestantized and Coquerelized? - -{718} - -Let us see what is the Christianity of Jesus according to Monsieur -Coquerel's gospel: "In short, the whole instruction of Jesus can be -included in the following formula: the work to be accomplished is the reign -of God in all consciences; the universal motive through which this reign is -to be established, the essential fact of this reign, is love, of which the -twofold manifestation is pardon and new or eternal life; and these two -manifestations presuppose two facts, whose certainty has no need of proof-- -sin and immortality. Thus reducing all Christianity to a single formula, it -may be said that Jesus revealed to all sinners the eternal compassion of -the God of holiness, their Father." (P. 65.) This cant about pardon and the -new life in the mouth of one who rejects the divinity of Jesus Christ, who -is unwilling to impose the belief in his miracles upon any sincere -Christian, (_sic_,) and who thinks the doctrine of hell is rank -nonsense, would need explanation, did we not gather from a previous -sentence that Monsieur Coquerel the Younger is as shallow a theologian as -he is a philosopher. Speaking of our Lord, he says: "He has such an -absolute certainty of the power of God, and of the efficacy of the good and -the true; such a full confidence in the perfectibility of guilty man; such -a high esteem for human nature, _wholly sinful_ as it is, that, in his -eyes, the elevation, the healing, the salvation, the enfranchisement of -every soul that is willing to return to God and love him are not an object -of the slightest doubt." (P. 64.) Beside this we place one other quotation, -which we think will suffice: "Liberal Protestants are constantly asked -where they would fix the boundary which separates Christians from those who -are not Christians. _Each man has the right to solve this formidable -problem in the light of his own conscience!_" (P. 75.) And this man -pretends to lecture the world for transforming Christianity to suit its own -notions! We would advise Monsieur Coquerel the Younger to review his logic. - - - - Critical And Social Essays, - reprinted from the New York Nation. - 12mo, pp. 230. New York: Leypoldt & Holt. - -It is a good deal to say of a newspaper nowadays that it is possible to -collect from its columns in the course of two years a whole volume of -essays passably well worth preserving. And many of the essays in this neat -little book are much better than passable. Of course one does not look for -deep philosophy or strikingly original thought in the ephemeral papers -dashed off for a week's entertainment, and sent flying over the country on -the wings of the periodical press. It is enough if the subject be -attractive, the argument mainly just, the style fluent, and now and then -striking. The essays from _The Nation_ generally fulfil these -conditions, and afford very agreeable recreation for odd intervals of -leisure. The cold and almost cynical spirit of criticism, and the utter -lack of enthusiasm and sympathy, which have done so much to deprive _The -Nation_ of that influence in public affairs to which its literary merit -entitles it, appear in a more favorable light in the pages of a book than -in the columns of a periodical. Book-readers have time to appreciate graces -of style, and to roll sweet morsels of thought and phrase under their -tongues; but the journalist in America must deal with a different public, -and must serve them with coarser materials. His weapon must be not the -scalpel or the lancet, but the axe and the bludgeon. - - - Fathers And Sons. A Novel. - By Ivan Sergheievitch Turgenef. - Translated from the Russian, with the approval - of the author, by Eugene Schuyler, Ph. D. - 12mo, pp. 248. New-York: Leypoldt & Holt. - -The object of this novel is to contrast the generation which is just -passing away in Russia with the generation that is taking its place--the -old lords of the soil, still half-bewildered by the inroads of civilization -upon their semi-savage life, and the young party of progress, intoxicated -with the new ideas of emancipation, the new learning, the new habits, and -the new morality which is fast breaking up the old Tartar feudalism. We can -well believe the translator's assertion that a tempest was raised by the -appearance of the book in Russia. The portraits are flattering to neither -generation, and they are so life-like that it is impossible to doubt they -are substantially accurate representations of both. As a work of fiction, -Fathers and Sons is particularly interesting to us. Artistically speaking, -it is a very good novel indeed, and it is moreover almost the first glimpse -we have had of the fictitious literature of a country toward which -Americans are, whether rightly or wrongly, especially attracted. It gives -us a better view of daily life in Russia than any book of travel or -observation with which we are acquainted--better not only because clearer, -but also because it is of necessity perfectly undistorted. -{719} -But the picture is painful enough. For most of the characters in the story -the author evidently has no love; but even the best of them are singularly -unamiable. And we close the volume with the reflection that, if there is no -better life in Russia than the life he paints; if the men and women whom he -brings before us are fair types of the average culture and virtue of the -empire; if the fathers have no intelligence, and the sons neither human -affection nor religion, the future of Russia must be far different from -what modern writers are fond of predicting. The morality of the story is -bad, but its badness is so transparent that it can hurt nobody. There is an -offensive tinge of sensualism in it, too, and this is less apparent, and -therefore more dangerous. - - - - Barbarossa: A Historical Novel of the Seventh Century. - By Conrad Von Bolanden. - 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 486. Philadelphia: Eugene Cuminiskey. 1867. - -The historical novel is a difficult one to write. To strictly follow the -bare facts of history will make the work dull to most readers of light -literature; and to allow the imagination full play in working out its -scenes and representing them as if they had been actual occurrences will -offend the student of history. The middle ages, however, are full of matter -for the historical novelist. We have too few gleaners in this prolific -field. We can remember only one attempt of the kind in the English language -within the last decade of years. William Bernard McCabe, in his "Bertha," -has done good service toward making known, in a popular manner, the designs -of the Emperor Frederick to become universal emperor, or _Pontifex -Maximus_, as he hoped to be one day called. - -The present work is a translation from the German, and describes the -political workings of Frederick's ambition; his conquests in Italy, and the -capture of Rome; his attempt to set up and install in that city his tool, -the antipope Pascal, in opposition to the lawful successor of St. Peter, -Alexander III.; all these events are well told. The interest of the story -is kept up by introducing two lovers--a knight, the follower of Frederick, -and an Italian lady, who, of course, marry at the conclusion of the tale. -The character of Frederick's prime minister, Dassel, is well portrayed, and -shows that, with all the emperor's strength of mind, he was, after all, -only the puppet of his wily minister. - -A little more elegance might have been observed by the translator, -especially in the first part of the story, where carelessness and -incorrectness of expression occur several times. For instance, we are told -in one sentence that "Suddenly Otho of Wittelsbach advanced hurriedly," -which sounds too much after the fashion of a _Ledger_ story. Again, -news is brought to Frederick of the surrender of Cinola to the Milanese, -when the following dialogue occurs: "What is the strength of the Milanese?" -"About three hundred men." "Have they burned the castle?" "_I am ignorant -of that fact, sire._" - -But these are, after all, but slight defects, and do not mar the beauty of -the tale. We can heartily recommend the work to the readers of light -literature, as both instructive and entertaining, two things which are not -always combined in the historical novel. - - - Appleton's Annual Cyclopaedia for 1866. - -This volume is an improvement on the preceding one, in one respect at -least, that is, in the summary which it gives of the progress of the -physical sciences. It contains, as usual, a condensed history of the year, -and is ornamented with fine, spirited engravings of three very notorious -public characters: the King of Prussia, Bismarck, and Girabaldi. It is well -worthy of a place in every library, and is, in fact, almost indispensable -as a book of reference. - - - - Notes On Doctrinal And Spiritual Subjects. - By the late Frederick W. Faber, D.D., of the Oratory. - Vol. II. London: Richardson & Son. New York: - The Catholic Publication Society. - -With the character of Father Faber's writings most of our readers are well -acquainted, and we have already given a special notice of them in a review -of the first volume of this work. The present volume contains a large -number of his hitherto unpublished writings, among which are sketches of -discourses upon the notes of the church, treatises upon the sacrament, -controversial lectures spiritual conferences, and various miscellaneous -papers. -{720} -They are of especial value to the younger members of our clergy, to whom we -commend them as furnishing ample matter for sermons, instructions, and -lectures. - - - The Man With the Broken Ear. - Translated from the French of Edmond About, - by Henry Holt. 12mo, pp. 254. New York: Leypoldt & Holt. - -The ingenuity and wit of this story cannot make amends for its grossness. -The novels of M. About's previously rendered into English were enough to -show that he cared nothing for the good opinion of Catholics, and in this -grotesque tale he has equally shown his disregard for the tastes of refined -people of every creed. Still, it is fair to say in his praise that the -contrasts of character which form the chief feature of the book are -admirably managed, and the dialogue sparkles with vivacity. Mr. Holt, who -is both publisher and translator, has acquitted himself in his double -function with noteworthy credit. - - - Cummiskey's Juvenile Library: Florie's Series. - 12 vols. 16mo. Translated from the French. - E. Cummiskey, Publisher, 1037 Chestnut street, Philadelphia. - -This is a very interesting series of children's stories. They are well -translated and published in good style. - - - Stories On The Commandments - - Caroline; Or, Self Conquest - - The Seven Corporal Works Of Mercy and Matie's Troubles. - - P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia. - -Those three volumes are an addition to this publisher's well-selected list -of tales for the young. Although they are published in the same style as -The Young Catholic Library, the stock and workmanship is much inferior. - -Books for children's use should be published in a more durable form. - - - Beauties Of Faith; Or, Power Of Mary's Patronage. - Leaves from the Ave Maria. P. O'Shea, New York. - -The first part of this volume is taken up with short stories illustrative -of the power of Mary's patronage. The second part contains the beautiful -story of Cobina, by Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. Altogether it forms a volume of -very interesting matter. - - - Coaina, The Rose Of The Algonquins. - By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey. P. O'Shea, New York. - -Since writing the above, the story of Coaina comes on our table in another -shape from the same publisher. This is a charming Indian tale. We cannot -see the wisdom of using it to swell the bulk of the volume of selections -mentioned above, after having issued it as a separate volume. If those who -have facilities for publishing would give us translations or reprints of -the many excellent books of this kind published in France, Germany, and -England, they would do us greater service. - - - Manual of the Lives of the Popes, Etc. - By J. C. Earle. Reprinted from the - English Edition. Baltimore: Murphy & Co. - -This neatly printed little book is useful as a catalogue of the popes, and -a record of some of the principal facts in their reigns. It has no critical -value in regard to disputed or doubtful questions, and pretends to none. - - - Books Received. - -From P. O'Shea, New York. The Science of Happiness; -or, Beatitudes in Practice. By Madame Bourdon. 1 vol. 16mo. Price, $1. - -From D. Appleton & Co., New York. Appleton's -Hand-Book of American Travel. By E. Hall. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 283. - -From Leypoldt & Holt, New York. Co-operative -Stores; their History, Organization, and Management. -Based on the recent German work of Eugene Kichter. pp. 131. Price, 50 -cents. - -From P. O'Shea, New York. Rosa Immaculata; or, -The Tower of Ivory, or the House of Anna and Joachim. -By Mary Josephine. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 250. Price, $2. - ------- - -{721} - - - The Catholic World - - - Vol. V., NO. 29. September, 1867. - - - - "Rome or Reason." [Footnote 247] - - [Footnote 247: The Jesuits in North America in the Seventeenth Century. - By Francis Parkman. Boston: Little, Brown & Co. 1867. 8vo, pp. 468. - - The Professor at the Breakfast-Table; with the Story of Iris. By Oliver - Wendell Holmes. Boston; Ticknor & Fields. 1866. 12mo, pp. 410. - - Rationalism and Catholicism. Inquirer, Cincinnati, May 26, 1867.] - - -Mr. Parkman understands and describes very well the Indian character--a -very simple character, and within the range of his comprehension. There is -nothing deep or impenetrable in the Indian, and his ideas, habits, and -customs are invariable. He is a child in simplicity, but he is cunning, -fierce, treacherous, ferocious, more of a wild beast than a man--a true -savage, nothing more, nothing less. Mr. Parkman has lived with him, studied -his character and ways, and may, as to him, be trusted as a competent and -faithful guide, save when there is a question of superstition, in which the -Indian abounds, or of religion, which he accepts with more docility and -ease than many learned and scientific white men. - -Mr. Parkman may also be trusted for the purely material facts of the Jesuit -missions among the Indians in the seventeenth century, and he narrates them -in a style of much artistic grace and beauty; but of the motives which -governed the missionaries, of their faith and charity, as well as of their -whole interior spiritual life, he understands less than did the "untutored -Indian." His judgments, reflections, or speculations on the spiritual -questions involved are singularly crude, marked by a gross ignorance not at -all creditable to a son of "The Hub." He claims to be enlightened, to be a -man of progress, and he has indeed advanced as far as Sadduceeism, which -believes in neither angel nor spirit; but the savage retains more of the -elements of Christian faith than he appears to have attained to. He is -struck, as every one must be, by the self-denial, the disinterestedness, -the patient toil, the unwearying kindness, superiority to danger or death, -and heroic self-sacrifices and martyrdom of the missionaries; but he sees -in them only the workings of a false faith, superstitious missions, and a -fanatic zeal. The Jesuit who left behind all the delights and riches of -civilization, gave up all that men of the world hold most dear, braved all -the dangers of the forest, of the savage, performed fatiguing journeys, -underwent the inclemencies of the climate and the seasons, suffered hunger -and thirst, in want of all things, submitted to captivity, tortures, -mutilations, and death, was, in his judgment, a poor, deluded man; his -faith, which bore him up or bore him onward, was an illusion, and his -charity, which never failed or grew cold, was only an honest but mistaken -zeal! Do men gather grapes of thorns or figs of thistles? - -{722} - -It cannot be said that Mr. Parkman has overrated the marvellous labors and -sacrifices of the Jesuits for the conversion of the North American Indians; -but he is mistaken in supposing that they stand out as anything singular or -extraordinary in the general history of Catholic missions. They did well; -they were brave, indefatigable, self-denying, heroic, and cold must be the -heart that can read their story without emotion; but their high qualities -and virtues are due to their general character as Catholics, not to their -special character as Jesuits. Non-Catholic writers are very apt to consider -that Jesuits are a peculiar sect, in some way distinguishable from the -Catholic Church, and that their merits belong to them not as Catholic -priests and missionaries, but as Jesuits. What Mr. Parkman admires in them -is really admirable; but its glory is due to Catholic faith and charity, -which the Jesuit has in common with all Catholics, and he has toiled no -harder, braved no more dangers, suffered no greater hardships, or a more -cruel and horrid death, or met them with a spirit no more heroic than have -other Catholic missionaries among heretics and infidels, from the apostles -down to the last martyr in China, Anam, or Oceanica. It has been only by -such suffering and such deeds as Mr. Parkman narrates, that the world has -been converted to the Christian faith and retained in the Catholic Church. -At all times, since the descent of the Holy Ghost on the day of Pentecost, -has the Catholic Church nursed in her bosom, and sent into the world to -preach Christ and him crucified, men not at all inferior in faith and love, -in patient endurance, and heroic self sacrifice to the Jesuit missionaries -among the North American Indians. She has never wanted laborers, -confessors, martyrs; and a religion that never fails to create and inspire -them is not, and cannot be, a false religion, a delusion, a fanaticism. It -is only in the Catholic Church you find or have ever found them. Let her -have the credit of them. - -The Professor at the Breakfast Table has been for some time before the -public, and every body has read it. Its author has, we believe, a high -reputation in the medical profession, and certainly has attained to -distinction as a poet and as a writer of prose fiction. He has wit and -pathos, a lively imagination, and a keen sense of the ludicrous. The snake -portion of his Elsie Vonner is horrible, but several of the characters in -that remarkable book are admirably drawn--are real New England characters, -drawn as none but a New Englander could draw them, and perhaps, none but a -New Englander can fully appreciate. He is like many of the descendants of -the old Puritans, who, having lost all faith in the Calvinism of their -ancestors, still identify it with Christianity, and float in their feelings -between the memory of it and a vague rationalism and sentimentalism which -is simply no belief at all. He would like to be a Christian, to feel that -he has faith, something on which he can rest his whole weight without fear -of its giving way under him, but he knows not where to look for it. He -finds many attractions in the Catholic Church, but, thinking that she holds -what so offends him in the faith of his ancestors, he dares not trust her. - -There is a large class of educated, thinking, and even serious-minded -Americans who turn away from the church and refuse to consider her claims, -not because she differs from the Protestantism in which they have been -reared, but because she does not, in her spirit and teaching, differ enough -from it. Those outside of the church, and who credit not the evangelical -cant against her, identify her teaching with Jansenism, regard Jansenists -as the better class of Catholics, and Jansenism is a form of Calvinism, and -Calvinism is a system of pure supernaturalism, while the active American -mind cannot consent that nature should count in the -religious life for nothing. -{723} -It would, perhaps, relieve them a little if they knew that not only the -Jesuits condemned Jansenism, but the church herself condemns it, and -Jansenists are as much out of the pale of the church as are Calvinists or -Lutherans themselves. So-called orthodox Protestants were formerly in the -habit of charging Catholics with rationalism and Pelagianism, and even now -accuse them of denying the doctrines of grace or salvation through the -merits and grace of Jesus Christ. This fact alone should suffice to teach -such men as the Professor at the Breakfast-Table that the difference -between Catholicity and Puritanism is much greater than they suppose. - -The Professor, in defending himself against the change of want of respect -for Puritanism, says, pp. 154-155: "I don't mind the exclamation of any old -stager who drinks Madeira worth from two to six Bibles a bottle, and burns, -according to his own premises, a dozen souls a year in segars, with which -he muddles his brains. But as for the good and true and intelligent men we -see all around us, laborious, self-denying, hopeful, helpful--men who know -that the active mind of the age is tending more and more to the two poles, -Rome and Reason, the sovereign church or the free soul, authority or -personality, God in us or God in our masters, and that, though a man may by -accident _stand_ half-way between these two points, he must -_look_ one way or the other--I don't believe they would take offence -at anything I have reported." From the connection in which this is said, -and the purpose for which it is said, it is clear that the Professor holds -that the active mind of this century is tending either Romeward or -Reasonward, that the doctrines held by his Puritan ancestors and so-called -orthodox Protestants can be sustained only by the authority of a sovereign -church, and that we must accept such authority, or give up all dogmatic -belief, and allow the free, unrestricted use of reason. - -The writer in the Cincinnati Inquirer seems to agree with him. A certain -Protestant minister, an Anglican, we presume, had said in a sermon, that -"the church's greatest enemies are now Catholicism and rationalism." The -writer, in commenting on this proposition, says: "Catholicism is the -theology of authority; rationalism, the theology of reason;" and -"Protestantism is Catholicism with a dash of rationalism, or rationalism -with a dash of Catholicism." Both represent Catholicity and reason as -standing opposed each to the other, as two opposite poles, and each makes -as does the age no account of the _via media_ church receiving the -shots of both reason and authority, and discharging its double battery in -return against each. - -Now, is it not time that thinking men, and authors who claim intelligence -and mean to be just, should stop this contrasting of Rome or authority and -reason? The cant has become threadbare, and men of reputation and taste -should lay it aside as no longer fit for use. It does not by any means -state the fact as it is, for there is not the least discrepancy between the -church and reason, nor is there, in accepting and believing the revealed -word of God on the authority of the church proposing it, the least -surrender of reason or nature. The Catholic has all of reason that belongs -to human nature, and full opportunity to exercise it; and his soul is as -free as the soul can be, and he is, in fact, the only man that has really a -free soul. If God is in his masters, he is also in him. He has no less -internal light because he has external light, and no less internal freedom -because he has external authority. The Professor is quite mistaken in -presenting the church and reason as two opposite poles. Nay, his -illustration is not happy, for the two poles, if we speak geographically, -belong to one and the same globe, and are equally essential to its form and -completeness, and, if we speak magnetically, and mean positive and negative -poles, they are only the two modes in which one and the same substance or -force operates, and certainly in Catholic faith both authority and reason -are alike active, and mutually concur in producing one and the same result. - -{724} - -It is only when we borrow our views of Catholicity from the theology of the -Reformation, or suppose that it is substantially the same, that the -authority of the church can be regarded as opposed to reason or repugnant -to nature. He who has read the fathers has discovered in them no abdication -of reason or want of intellectual freedom; and he who is familiar with the -mediaeval doctors knows that no men can use reason more freely or push it -further than they did. Melchior Cano, a theologian of the sixteenth -century, in his Locis Theologicis, a work of great authority with -Catholics, enumerates natural reason as one of the common-places of -theology, whence arguments may be drawn to prove what is or is not of -faith. A school of philosophers have latterly sprung up among Catholics, -called traditionalists, who would seem to deny reason and to found science -on faith; but they have fallen under censure of the Holy See, and been -required to recognize that reason precedes faith, and that faith comes as -the complement of science, not as preceding or superseding it. By far the -larger part of the errors condemned in the syllabus of errors attached to -the Encyclical of the Holy Father, dated at Rome, 8th of December, 1864, -are errors that tend to destroy reason and society. The church has always -been vigilant in vindicating natural reason and the natural law. - -But the Reformation was a complete protest against reason and nature, and -the assertion of extreme and exclusive supernaturalism. In Luther's -estimation reason was a stupid ass. The reformers all agreed in asserting -the total depravity of human nature, and in maintaining the complete moral -inability of man. According to the reformed doctrines, man never actively -concurs with grace, but in faith and justification is wholly impotent and -passive. Man can think only evil, and the works he does prior to -regeneration, however honest or benevolent, are not simply imperfect, but -positively sins. This was the reformed theology which the writer of this -article had in his boyhood and youth dinged into him till he well-nigh lost -his reason. The church has never tolerated any such theology, and they who -place her and reason in opposition are really, whether they know it or not, -charging her with the errors of Protestantism, which she has never ceased, -in the most public, formal, and solemn manner, to condemn. There are, no -doubt, large numbers included under the general name of Protestants, who -imagine that the Reformation was a great movement in behalf of intelligence -against ignorance, of reason against authority, mental freedom against -mental bondage, of rational religion against bigotry and superstition; but -whoever has studied the history of that great movement knows that it was no -such thing--the furthest from it possible. It was a retrograde movement, -and designed in its very essence to arrest the intellectual and theological -progress of the race. Its avowed purpose was the restoration of primitive -Christianity, which, whatever plausible terms might be adopted, meant, and -could mean only, to set the race back some fifteen hundred years in its -march through the ages, and to eliminate from Christendom all that -Christianity for fifteen centuries had effected for civilization. The -Protestant party, was by its own avowal, the party of the past, and, if -there are Protestants who are striving to be the party of the future, they -succeed only by leaving their Protestantism behind, or by transforming it. - -The church has always been on the side of freedom and progress, and the -normal current of humanity has flowed and never ceased to flow from the -foot of the cross down through her communion; and whatever life-giving -water has flowed into Protestant cisterns, it has been from the -overflowings of that current, always full. -{725} -You who are outside of it, save in the application of the truths of science -to the material arts, have effected no progress. You have worked hard, have -been often on the point of some grand discovery, but only on the point of -making it, and are as far from the goal as you were when Luther burnt the -papal bull, or suffered the devil to convince him of the sin of saying -private masses. You have always found your works after a little while -needing to be recast, and that your systems are giving way. You have been -constantly doing and undoing, and never succeeding. Save in the physical -sciences and some achievements in the material world, you are far below -what you were when you started. Of course, you do not believe it, because -you confound change with progress, and you count getting rid of your -patrimony increasing it. It is idle to tell you this, for you have already -fallen so low that you place the material above the spiritual, and the -knowledge of the uses of of steam above the knowledge and love God. - -Rome or reason, Rome or liberty, is not the true formula of the tendencies -of the age; nor is it Catholicism or rationalism, but Catholicity or -naturalism. The extremes opposed to Catholicity are, on the one hand, -exclusive supernaturalism, or a supernaturalism that condemns and excludes -the activity of nature, and, on the other, exclusive naturalism, or a -naturalism that denies and excludes all communion between God and man, save -through natural laws, or laws impressed on nature by its Creator, and held -to bind both him and it. Your evangelicals are exclusive supernaturalists, -as were the great body of the Protestant reformers; Auguste Comte, J. -Stuart Mill, Herbert Spencer, Mr. Parkman, and the Professor are exclusive -naturalists, who deny the reality of all facts or phenomena not explicable -by natural laws or natural causes. All the sciences, since Bacon, are -constructed on naturalistic principles, and theology, philosophy, or -metaphysics, which cannot be constructed without the recognition of the -supernatural, are rejected by our _savans_ as vain speculations or -idle theories without any basis in reality. They belong to the age of -ignorance and superstition, and will never be recognized in an age of light -and science. As the church clings to them, insists upon them, she is behind -the age, and they who adhere to her are to be tolerated and pitied as we -tolerate and pity idiots and the insane, unless, indeed, they are clothed -with more or less power; then, indeed, we must make war on them and -exterminate them. - -Few who have studied this age with any care will question the fidelity of -this picture. The active living mind of this age unquestionably tends -either to this exclusive naturalism or to the Catholic Church, which is the -synthesis of the natural and the supernatural, of authority and freedom, -reason and faith, science and revelation. Protestantism, which is exclusive -supernaturalism, it is becoming pretty well understood, cannot be -sustained. It cannot be sustained by reason, for it rejects reason; it -cannot be sustained by authority, for in rejecting the church it has cast -off all authority, but that of the state, which has no competency in -spirituals. It has supported its dogmas, as far as it has supported them at -all, on Catholic tradition, the validity of which it denies. This cannot -last, for, where people are free to think and have the courage to reason -without let or hinderance from the state, they will not long consent to -affirm and deny tradition in one and the same breath. They will either fall -into the naturalistic ranks or be absorbed by the Catholic Church, and it -is useless to trouble ourselves with them as Protestants. - -The naturalists or rationalists, by far the most numerous, and in most -Protestant or non-Catholic states already the governing body, are repelled -from the church by their supposition that all the substantial difference -between her and Jansenists or Calvinists is, that in the one case -super-naturalism is taught and explained by a living authority, claiming a -divine commission, and in the other it is not taught at all, but collected -by grammar and lexicon from a book said to have been written by divine -inspiration. -{726} -The Catholic theory is the more logical and more attractive of the two, but -both alike discard reason, and insist on the submission of the -understanding to an external authority, and it matters little whether the -authority is that of the church or of a book written many ages ago. In -either case the faith is proposed on authority, which assumes to command -the reason and to deprive the soul of her natural freedom. I am forbidden -to think and follow my own convictions, and must, on pain of everlasting -perdition, believe what others bid me, whether it accords with my own -reason or not. This, we take it, is the view entertained by the worthy -Professor, and the writer of this many years ago preached it, and counted -the Professor himself among his hearers, if not among his disciples. Now, -we need not, after the explanation we have given, say that this view is -altogether wrong. The Protestant asserts the supernatural in a sense that -excludes or supersedes nature, and, therefore, natural reason; the Catholic -adopts as his maxim, _Gratia supponit naturam_, and asserts the -supernatural as the complement of the natural, or as healing, -strengthening, and elevating it to the plane of the supernatural, or a -destiny far superior to any possible natural beatitude. This is in the -outset a very important difference, for, if grace supposes nature, the -supernatural the natural, the authority on which we are required to believe -the supernatural may aid, may strengthen, or illumine natural reason, but -cannot supersede it or deprive it of any of its natural activity and -freedom. The supernatural adds to the natural, according to Catholic faith, -but takes nothing from it. The prejudice excited by Protestantism against -the supernatural cannot bear against it as asserted by Catholicity. - -But we would remind our naturalistic friends that nature does not suffice -for itself. It is impossible by nature alone to explain the origin or -existence of nature. The ancients tried to do it, but they failed. Some -attempted to do it by the fortuitous combination of eternally existing -atoms, others made the universe originate in fire, in water, in air or -earth, as some moderns try to develop it from a primitive rock or gas, or -suppose it originally existed in a liquid or a gaseous state, whence it has -grown into its present form. But whence the primitive rock or the gas? -whence the fire, water, air, or earth? whence the original germ? Naturalism -has no answer. We have a natural tendency, strong in proportion to the -strength and activity of our reason, to seek the origin, the principles, -the causes of things, but this tendency nature can not satisfy, because -nature has not her origin, principle, or cause in herself. For this reason -Mr. Herbert Spencer relegates origin and end, principles and causes, and -whatever pertains to them to the region of the unknowable, and maintains -that we can know only phenomena, and therefore that science consists simply -in observing, collecting, and classifying phenomena, not in the explication -of phenomena by reducing them to their principle and referring them to -their cause or causes. - -We can know phenomena, but not noumena, is asserted by the reigning -doctrine among physicists, which is as complete a denial of reason as can -be found in any of the reformers. It reduces our intelligence to a level -with that of the brutes that perish, for what distinguishes our -intelligence from theirs is precisely reason, which is the faculty of -attaining to principles or causes--first causes and final causes--both in -the intellectual and the moral order, while brutes have intelligence only -of phenomena. Hence, philosophers, who define things _per genus et per -differentiam_, define man a rational animal, or animal plus reason. -{727} -To our physicists, like the Lyells and the Huxleys, or to such philosophers -as Mr. Stuart Mill, who knows not whether he is Mr. Stuart Mill or somebody -else, whether he is something or nothing, this amounts to very little; for -they, the physicists, we mean, are specially engaged in collecting facts to -prove that man is only a developed chimpanzee or gorilla, and that the -human intelligence differs only in degree from the brutish. But, then, what -right have they to complain that belief in the supernatural tends to -degrade human nature, to deprive reason of its dignity, and man of his -glory? Moreover, this restriction of our power of knowing to simple -phenomena, never satisfies reason, which would know not only phenomena, but -noumena, and not only noumena, but principles, causes, the principle of -principles and the cause of causes, the origin and end of all things, that -is, God, and God as he is in himself. You cannot, except by brutalizing men -to the last degree, suppress this interior craving of reason to penetrate -all mysteries, to explore all secrets, and to know all things, nor can you -by reason alone appease it. Do you propose to suppress nature, extinguish -reason, and call it promoting science, vindicating the dignity of man? - -Reason can never be made to believe that all reality is confined to what -Mr. Herbert Spencer calls the knowable, and we the intelligible. There is -nothing of which reason is better or more firmly persuaded than that there -is more reality than she herself knows or can know. Reason asserts her own -limitations, and will never allow that she can know no more because there -is nothing more to be known. The intelligible does not satisfy her, because -in the intelligible alone she cannot find the explication of the -intelligible, or, in other words, she cannot understand the intelligible -without the superintelligible; for, though she cannot without divine -revelation grasp the superintelligible, she can know this much, that the -superintelligible is, and that in it the intelligible has its root, its -origin, cause, and explication. Here is a grave difficulty that every -exclusive rationalist encounters, and which is and can be removed only by -faith. Nature, reason; science alone never suffices for itself, as all our -savans know, for where their knowledge ends they invent hypotheses. It is -not that reason is a false or deceptive light, but that it is limited, and -we have not the attribute of omniscience any more than we have that of -omnipotence. - -So is it with our craving for beatitude. Whether God could or could not -have so constituted man, without changing his nature as man, that he could -rest in a natural beatitude, that is, in a finite good, we shall not -attempt to decide; but this much we may safely assert, as the united -testimony of the sages and moralists of all ages and nations, and confirmed -by every one's own experience, that nothing finite, and whatever is natural -is finite, can satisfy man's innate desire for beatitude. "Man," says Dr. -Channing, "thirsts for an unbounded good." The sum of all experience on the -subject is given us by the wise king of Israel, "_Vanitas vanitatum, et -omnia vanitas_--Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." The eye is not -satisfied with seeing, the ear with hearing, nor the heart with knowing. We -turn away with loathing from the finite good as soon as possessed, and -which the moment before possession we felt would, if we had it, make us -happy. The soul spurns it, and cries out from the depths of her agony for -something that can fill up the void within her, and complete her happiness -by completing her being. We need not multiply words, for the fact is old, -and all the world knows it. Nature cannot satisfy nature, and the soul -looks, and must look beyond it, for her beatitude. So much is certain. - -Hence it is that men in all ages and nations have never been able to -satisfy either their reason or their craving for happiness with nature -alone, and have, in some form, recognized a supernatural order, or a -reality of some sort above and beyond nature, whence comes nature herself. -{728} -Neither atheism, or the resolution of God into natural laws or forces, nor -pantheism, or the absorption of natural laws or forces into the Divine -Being itself, has ever been able to satisfy the man of a real philosophic -or scientific genius, because either is sophistical and self-contradictory. -Either is repugnant to the natural logic of the human understanding or the -inherent laws of thought. Even such naturalists as Agassiz and our Dr. -Draper find it necessary to recognize in some sense a Supreme Being or God, -although, for the most part, like the old Epicureans, they leave him idle, -with little or nothing to do. But God, if he exists at all, must be -supernatural, and the author of nature. If God is supernatural and the -creator of nature, he must have created nature for himself, and then nature -must have its origin and end in him, and therefore in the supernatural. -Man, then, has neither his origin nor end in the natural, and neither -without the supernatural is explicable or knowable; without a knowledge of -our origin and end, or an answer to the questions, whence came we? why are -we, and how? and whither go we? we can have no rule of life, cannot -determine the positive or the relative value of any line of conduct, and -must commit ourselves to the mercy of the winds and waves of an unknown -sea, without pilot, chart, rudder, or compass. - -Nor is even this enough. Not only is the natural inexplicable without the -supernatural, but even the intelligible, too, is not intelligible without -the superintelligible, as we have already said. We know things, indeed, not -mere phenomena, but we do not know the essences of things, and yet we know -that there is and can be nothing without its essence, and that the ground -and root of what is intelligible in a thing is in its unknown and -superintelligible essence. So in the universe throughout. God, as creator, -as universal, eternal, necessary, immutable, and self-existent being, is -intelligible to us, and the light by which all that is intelligible to us -is intelligible; but we know that what is intelligible to us is not God in -his essence, and that what in him is intelligible to us has its source, its -reality, so to speak, in this very superintelligible essence. Hence it -follows that to real science of anything we need to know the supernatural, -and by faith, or analogical science, at least, the superintelligible. We -cannot satisfy nature without the science and possession of the essences or -substances of things, and therefore not without faith, "for faith is the -substance of things to be hoped for," the evidence of things not seen. -_Fides est rerum substantia sperandarum, argumentum non apparentium_, -according to St. Paul, who, even they who deny his inspiration, must yet -admit was the profoundest philosopher that ever wrote. We think he was so -because divinely inspired, but the fact that he was so no competent judge -can dispute. St. Augustine owes his immense superiority over Plato and -Aristotle chiefly to his assiduous study of the epistles of St. Paul, which -throw so strong a light not only on the whole volume of Scripture, but on -the whole order of creation, and the divine purpose in the creation and the -redemption, regeneration, justification, and glorification of man through -the incarnation of the Word, and the cross and passion of our Lord Jesus -Christ. - -But as we can know even by faith the superintelligible, the unknowable of -Mr. Herbert Spencer, which even he dares not assert is unreal or -non-existent, only by divine or supernatural revelation, it follows, that -without such revelation, no science satisfactory to natural reason herself -is possible. There is, then, and can be no antagonism between revelation -and science, faith and reason, or supernatural and natural. The two are but -parts of one whole, each the complement of the other. This dialectic -relation of the two terms asserted by Catholic theology is denied by -Protestant theology either to the exclusion of nature and reason, or to the -exclusion of both the supernatural and the superintelligible, and hence the -dualism which rends in twain the whole non-Catholic world, and presents -revelation and science, reason and faith, authority and liberty, natural -and supernatural, church and state, heaven and earth, time and eternity, -God and man, as mutually hostile terms, forever irreconcilable. -{729} -The non-Catholic world does not know or it forgets that the church presents -the middle term that unites and reconciles them, and that the Catholic -feels nothing of this interior struggle of two mutually destructive forces -which rends the hearts and souls of the wisest of non-Catholics, not -because he does not think or has abdicated reason, as the Professor -imagines, but precisely because he does think, and thinks according to the -truth and reality of things. He has unquestionably his struggles between -the flesh and the spirit, between virtue and vice, between temptations to -sin and inspirations to holiness, but presents in his life none of those -fearful internal tragedies so frequently enacted among serious and earnest -non-Catholics, and which make up so large and so distressing a portion of -the higher and more truthful portion of non-Catholic literature. -Non-Catholic poetry, when not a song to Venus or Bacchus, is either a -fanciful description of external nature, scenes, and events, or a low wail -or a loud lament over the internal tragedies caused by the struggle between -faith and reason, belief and doubt, hope and despair, or vainly to -penetrate the mysteries of life and death, God and the universe. Catholic -poetry, Catholic literature throughout, knows nothing of those tragedies, -is peaceful and serene, and is therefore less interesting to those who are -not Catholics. We have (we speak personally) had some experience of those -interior struggles, and many a tragedy has been enacted in our own soul, -but it is with difficulty we can recall them; in the peace and serenity of -Catholic faith and hope they have almost faded from the memory, and yet the -period of our life since we became a Catholic has been with us the period -of our freest and most active and energetic thought. If we have worn -chains, we have not been conscious of them, and they certainly cannot have -been very heavy, or have eaten very deeply into the flesh. The reason of it -is that we find in Catholic faith and theology the two elements which in -the non-Catholic world are in perpetual war with each other, perfectly -reconciled, and mutually harmonized. - -The peace the Catholic finds is not the sort of peace that was said to -reign in Warsaw. The Professor is greatly mistaken if he supposes it is -obtained by the suppression of reason, or that reason is forgotten in the -engrossing nature or artistic perfection of the external services of the -church. The offices of the church are beautiful, grand, and, if you will, -imposing, but they are all provocative of thought, meditation, reflection, -for they all symbolize the greatest of all mysteries--God dying for the -creature's sin, God become man, that man may become God. Take away this -great mystery, and the offices of the church become meaningless, -purposeless, powerless. Without faith in that mystery to which they all -refer, and which they at every instant recall, they would be no more -imposing than the pomp and music of a military review or a concert in -Central Park. From first to last they challenge our faith, and, if there -were any discrepancy between our faith and reason, they would in a -thoughtful mind bring it up in distinct consciousness, instead of -suppressing or making us forget it. A Lord John Russell could call the -sublime services of the church "mummery," and such do the mass of -Protestants regard them. To the profane all things are profane, and the -offices of the church are really edifying only to those who believe the -mystery of the Incarnation. Unbelievers who are not scoffers may admire -their poetry and the music which accompanies them, but would admire equal -poetry and music in the theatre just as much, and perhaps even more. - -{730} - -No; the peace of the Catholic is a real peace. Neither faith nor reason, -revelation nor science, authority nor liberty is suppressed; but all real -antagonism between them is removed, and they are seen and felt to be but -congruous parts of one dialectic whole. Peace reigns because the mutually -hostile parties are really reconciled, and made one. The Professor, no -doubt, will smile at our assertion, and set it down to our simplicity or -enthusiasm, but we have this advantage of him, that we know both sides, and -taught or might have taught him more than thirty years ago the philosophy -he brings out so racily at the breakfast table. - -Our nature was constructed by the supernatural for the supernatural, and it -can no more live its normal life without a supernatural medium than it -could have sprung into existence without a cause above and independent of -itself. Regeneration is, therefore, as necessary to enable it to attain its -destiny or beatitude as generation was to usher it into natural existence. -Hence it is that, when men cast off in their belief and affections the -supernatural, and live as natural men alone, they sink even below their -normal nature, and lose even their natural light and strength, live only a -life which the Scriptures call death, the death which Adam underwent in -consequence of his disobedience to the divine order. When men undertake by -their simple natural reason to construct a system of philosophy, they -construct systems which natural reason herself rejects. Reason disdains her -own work, and hence pure rationalists never construct anything that will -stand, and they build up systems only to be demolished by themselves or -successors. Of the systems in vogue in our youth not one is now standing, -and we have seen them replaced by two or three new generations of systems -that have each in turn gone the way of all the earth; and, unless we -speedily follow them, we may be called to write the epitaphs of those now -revelling in the heyday of their young life. The thing is inevitable, -because our nature was made to act in synthesis with the supernatural, and -is only partially itself when compelled to operate by itself alone. - -This fact that man's normal life demands the supernatural, and that his own -reason, though not able to know the superintelligible, or to say what it -is, yet assures him that there is a superintelligible, fits him by nature -to receive the supernatural revelation of the superintelligible; for it -only supplies an indestructible and deeply felt want of his nature. His -reason needs it and his nature craves it, and when receiving it relishes it -as the hungry man does wholesome and appropriate food. As the natural and -supernatural, the intelligible and superintelligible, are not contradictory -or mutually repellant orders, but parts of one complete and indissoluble -whole, only ordinary evidence is required to prove the fact of revelation; -and as God is infinitely true, truth itself, his word, when we know that we -have it, is ample authority, the highest possible, and the best of all -conceivable reasons, for believing the revelation. So faith in a -supernatural revelation, in whatever is proved to be the word of God, is, -so far from being repugnant to reason or requiring an abdication of reason, -the highest and freest act of reason possible. - -The Professor objects to believing on the authority of the church, but we -do not believe the revelation on the authority of the church; we take on -her authority only the fact that it is divine revelation; the revelation -itself we believe on the veracity of God. But, if we considered the church -as a mere body, collection, or company of men, however wise, learned, or -honest we might regard them, we should not hold her authority sufficient -for believing that what she proposes as the revelation really is -revelation. Every man taken individually is fallible, and no possible -number, union, or combination of fallibles can make an infallible, and only -an infallible authority is competent to declare what God has or has not -revealed. The church is more than a collection, body, or company of -individuals, as the human race, what our liberals call humanity, is more -than an aggregation of individuals. -{731} -There is, indeed, no humanity without individuals, but it is not itself -individual, or dependent on individuals for its existence. The positivists, -who would call no individual man divine, pretend that humanity is divine, -and worship it as God. What the race is to individual men in the order of -generation, that, in some sense, is the church to them in the order of -regeneration. She lives not without them, but does not live by them. She is -the regenerated race, and bears to Jesus Christ, the incarnate Word, who -was with God and who is God, the relation, in the order of regeneration, -that the human race bears to Adam, its natural progenitor, and therefore -she lives a divine and human life, which she receives not from her members, -but imparts to them. Jesus Christ is the progenitor of regenerated -humanity, and this regenerated humanity is in the largest sense what we -call the church, in which sense it includes all the faithful, the laity as -well as their pastors and teachers. - -The church, again, is the body of our Lord, in which dwelleth the Holy -Ghost. Individuals are to her what the particles which the body assimilates -are to the body. There is no body without them, yet they are not, -individually or collectively, the body. The life of the body is not derived -from them, for the body, by a vital process, assimilates them to itself, -not they the body to themselves. The body, when suffering from a fever or -when deprived of food, assimilates them only feebly, and wastes away or -grows thin, and, when dead, assimilates them not at all, which shows that -the vital power which carries on the process of assimilation is in the -body, not in the particles, a fact far better known to the Professor than -to us, and a fact, too, which may help remove the difficulties sciolists -imagine in the way of the resurrection of the body. - -The vital power or principle which gives life to the body and enables it to -carry on the process of assimilation and elimination, the church teaches, -is the soul, for she has defined that the soul is the _form_ of the -body, _Anima est forma oorporis_. But this has nothing to do with our -present purpose. The vital principle, the life of the church, is our Lord -Jesus Christ himself. The Holy Ghost dwells in her as the soul in the body, -animates her, guides and directs her, and therefore is she one, holy and -Catholic, as he is one, holy and Catholic, infallible by his perpetual -presence and assistance as he is infallible. The Word incarnate explicates -his life in her as Adam explicates his life in the race. The infallibility -is from the presence and assistance of the Holy Ghost, and is in her very -interior life. The Word is in her, a living Word, and the infallibility -attaches to her, to this interior Word which she lives, but not to -individuals as such in her communion. The pope regarded as a man, -irrespective of his office, is no more infallible than he is impeccable, or -than is any Christian believer. - -But the church as a body has her organs, and as a visible body she has -visible organs, through which she teaches the truth she has received and -expresses the life she lives. These organs are the bishops or pastors in -communion with their visible head, the successor in the See of Rome of -Blessed Peter, the Prince of the Apostles. We call them organs of the -church, inasmuch as the faith and love, the truth and life, they express is -her life, which in turn is the life of him who said, "Because I live ye -shall live also," and, "Behold, I am with you all days, even to the -consummation of the world!" and who expressly declares himself "the way, -the truth, and the life." The infallibility of the church comes from the -indwelling Word and the assistance of the Holy Ghost; the infallibility of -the organs comes from the infallibility of the church. - -{732} - -Now, supposing the church to be what we represent her to be, we presume -even the Professor will acknowledge her to be fully competent to teach -without error the revelation supernaturally made and committed to her, for -the revelation committed to her is deposited externally with her bishops -and pastors, and internally in her living and unfailing faith, in her very -life and interior consciousness. It is both a recorded and a present living -revelation, which she is living and explicating in her continuous activity, -the Word spoken from the beginning, and the Word speaking now. "Say not," -says St. Paul, (Rom. x. 6-8,) "in thy heart: Who shall ascend into heaven? -that is, to bring Christ down: or who shall descend into the deep? that is, -to bring up Christ again from the dead. But what saith the Scripture? The -word is near thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart: this is the word of -faith, which we preach." This was addressed by St. Paul to Christian -believers, "to all that are at Rome, the beloved of God, called to be -saints," and shows that the Christian not only hears the word in his ears, -but has it in his mouth, in his heart, that is, in his very life, and he -lives and breathes it. It is the very element of his soul, and he can have -no higher certainty, not even in case of a mathematical demonstration, than -he has that his faith is true, and that it is the living God he believes. -The Professor, then, in regard to the faithful, has no ground for asserting -as he does an antithesis between "Rome and reason, the sovereign church and -the free soul, God in our masters and God in us;" for Rome is the highest -reason, the sovereign church is both external and internal, and God is both -in us and in our teachers. We have not only the veracity of God as the -ground of our faith, but a divinely constituted and assisted medium of -bringing us to it, and sustaining it in us. - -The church undoubtedly teaches the faith or divine revelation which has -been committed to her through her pastors and doctors. But the competency -of these to teach follows from the fact that they can teach only in union -with the church; that she authorizes their teaching, and is ever present to -correct them if they err, and that they are even externally commissioned by -our Lord himself to teach what he has revealed. A mere external commission, -which we know historically was given to the apostles and their successors, -would not of itself give the capacity to teach or ensure infallibility in -teaching; but he who has all power in heaven and in earth, who is God as -well as man, and is himself "the way, the truth, and the life," assuredly -would not, and could not, without belying his essential and immutable -nature, issue a commission to teach and command all nations to hear and -obey them as himself, without taking care that they should have the ability -to teach his word and to teach it infallibly. That he does this is pledged -in the very issue and in the words of the commission itself: "All power is -given to me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all -nations; baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of -the Holy Ghost; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have -commanded you; and, behold, _I am with you_ all days, even to the -consummation of the world." (St. Matt xxviii. 18-20.) - -This external commission is all that needs to be proved by external -evidence to the world outside of the church, and there is no more intrinsic -difficulty in proving it than there is in proving the commission of George -Washington as general of the American army in the Revolution, of Lord -Raglan as commander-in-chief to the day of his death of the British forces -employed in the Crimean war, or any other historical fact whatever. The -unbroken existence of the church founded by the apostles from their day to -ours, and the uniform testimony she has universally and uninterruptedly -borne to the fact, would suffice to prove it, even had we no other proofs -or evidence. The church, without citing her in her supernatural character, -and taking her simply as an historical witness, is all that is needed, for -she is a standing monument of the fact. -{733} -In her corporate capacity she spans the whole distance of time from the -apostles, and at each intervening moment she has been a present witness of -the fact, testifying to what was present before her. The church as a -corporation, without any appeal to her mystic character, has not been -subject to any succession of time, has known no lapse of years, and is as -present today to the events of the apostolic times as she was when those -events occurred. She is at any moment we choose their contemporary, and, as -a contemporary witness to extraordinary facts, her testimony is as good for -us as was that of the apostles themselves to their personal contemporaries. -Indeed, it is literally and truly the same, for her corporate existence -from the time of the apostles to ours, or her historical identity, is -unquestionable. - -We are not now citing the continuous existence of the church for anything -but the simple external fact of the external commission given by our Lord -himself to his apostles. To that fact, whatever you think of her, she is a -competent witness, and, having constantly testified to it from that day to -this, her testimony is conclusive. Assume, then, the fact of the external -commission, to which we who are Catholics need no external testimony, since -we find the highest of all possible testimony in the internal life of the -church, all the rest follows of itself. What the church believes, and -teaches through her pastors and doctors, or what they in unison with her -and her faith teach as the revelation of God committed to her, is his -revelation, and we believe it because we believe him. Then we believe she -is what she professes to be, the living body of our Lord, who lives in her -and is her life, and through whom the Holy Ghost carries on the work of -regeneration and glorification of all souls that do not resist him, but by -his assistance coöperate with him. - -Now, where in all this, from the first to the last, find you any -discrepancy between Rome and Reason, the sovereign church and the free -soul, between God in us and God in our masters? There is no discrepancy. -There is more in it than natural reason by her own light knows, but nothing -against reason, or which reason does not feel that she needs for own full -and normal development. There is in it more than there is in nature, -because our destiny, our end, that is, our supreme good, like our origin, -lies in the supernatural order, not the natural, for our nature can be -satisfied with no finite or created good, and it needs no argument to prove -that the natural is not capable of itself of attaining to the supernatural. -To assert the supernatural as the means of elevating nature to the plane of -a supernatural destiny and of enabling it to reach it, assuredly is not to -discard or to depress nature. - -The difficulties which exclusive rationalists and naturalists feel in the -case grow out of their supposition that Rome teaches that the intelligible -and superintelligible are identical with the natural and supernatural, and -that the natural and supernatural are two separate worlds, each standing -opposed to the other, or two contradictory plans or systems, with no real -nexus or medium of reconciliation between them, that is, that Rome, saving -her authority to teach and govern, teaches Protestantism. The intelligible -and superintelligible are distinguishable only in relation to our limited -intelligence, but in the real order are identical, one and the same, and -would be seen to be so by an intelligence capable of taking in all reality -at one view. The natural and supernatural are distinguishable, but not -separable, any more than is the effect from the cause. They are simply -distinct parts of one complete system, or one dialectic whole, united as -well as distinguished by the creative act of God. They are expressed, in -the Christian or teleological order, by the terms generation and -regeneration. Man is created by the supernatural, but the race is -explicated in the order of generation by natural laws; in the order of -regeneration, by the election of grace. Generation is initial; regeneration -is teleological, and completes generation, or places man on the plane of -his end, as generation places the individual on the plane of his natural -existence. - -{734} - -Now, it is clear that without generation there can be no regeneration, as -without regeneration the end is not attainable. The two terms express two -processes, or the two itineraries of creation--the procession of existences -from God as First Cause by way of creation and their explication by natural -laws, and the return of existences by means of supernatural grace to God, -without absorption in him, as their end or Final Cause. The natural order -or generation, the order explicated by natural laws, proceeds from and is -sustained by the supernatural, for God is supernatural, since he is the -author of nature; the end, or the final cause, is supernatural, since it is -in God; the medium of return, then, must be also supernatural, since the -natural is not and cannot be adequate to a supernatural end. Evidently, -then, there is and can be no opposition between the natural and -supernatural but the opposition between the cause and effect, the medium -and the end, the part and the whole. The supernatural is necessary to -originate, sustain, and complete the natural. Hence, the difficulties -created or suggested by Protestant theology have no place in relation to -the teachings of Rome. Protestantism escapes an eternal war only by -supposing either the natural or the supernatural; Rome escapes it by -reconciling the two, or presenting in the real order the medium of their -union. - -We may now dispose of the question of miracles and supernatural visions, -etc., which excite the disdain or contempt of Mr. Parkman and his class of -thinkers or no-thinkers. Man exists from, by, and for the supernatural. -Christianity is supernatural, and is the medium, and the necessary medium, -by which man attains his end, or supreme good. It is teleological, and -hence the whole teleological life of man is supernatural. The supernatural -is that which God does immediately by himself; the natural is that which he -does mediately through the action of second causes or so-called natural -laws, as generation, germination, growth, etc., which are in the secondary -order explicable by natural or created causes. Now, as the supernatural is -the origin, medium, and end of man, and as Christianity or the teleological -order unites dialectically--really unites, as God and man are really united -in the Incarnation--the natural and supernatural, there is and can be no -_à priori_ difficulty or antecedent improbability that God, in -preparing the introduction in time of the Christian order, and in carrying -it on to the end for which he creates it, should intervene more or less -frequently by his direct and immediate action--action upon nature, if you -will, but without the agency of natural causes. The whole Christian order, -on its divine side, though included in the original plan or decree of -creation, is an intervention of this sort. Grace is the direct action of -God the Holy Ghost in regenerating the human soul, elevating it to the -plane of its destiny, and enabling it to persevere to the end. The part -assigned to natural agents is ministerial only, or signs through which -grace is signified. The direct and immediate action of God is normal in the -order of Christianity, and, therefore, in no sense repugnant to the order -of nature. - -What, then, is a miracle? It is not a violation or suspension of the laws -of nature, but a specific effect in the visible order produced by the -direct and immediate action of God, for some purpose connected with the -teleological order of creation, or the order of regeneration as -distinguished from the order of generation. That he should do so from time -to time, as seems to him good, is only in analogy with the very order he -sustains for the perfection or completion of creation. There are, then, no -_à priori_ objections to miracles. Hume's pretence that no testimony -can prove a miracle, for it is more probable that men will lie than it is -that nature will go out of her course, is of no weight, because nature does -not work a miracle, nor does it in a miracle go out of its course. -{735} -The miracle is worked by God himself, and is in the teleological order of -nature. Being wrought in the visible order, a miracle is as probable and as -provable as any other historical event. The only questions are, is the -event not explicable by natural causes? and are the proofs sufficient to -prove it as an historical fact? No more evidence is needed to prove it than -is required to prove any historical fact in the natural order itself. If a -real miracle, it is as easily proven as a natural event. - -No doubt many things pass for miracles which are explicable by natural -causes, and many visions are taken to be supernatural which have nothing -supernatural about them. We do not hold ourselves bound by our Catholic -faith to believe all the marvellous occurrences recorded in the lives of -the saints, or treated as such in popular tradition, were really miracles, -wrought by the direct and immediate action of the Almighty. We are bound to -believe only according to the evidence in each particular case. Credulity -is as little the characteristic of Catholics as is scepticism itself. We -are in relation to alleged particular miracles as free to exercise our -reason and judgment as we are in regard to any other class of alleged -historical facts, and to sift and weigh the testimony in the case. That -miracles are possible, are not improbable, have never ceased in the church, -and are daily wrought among the faithful, we fully believe; but, when it -comes to this or that particular fact or event alleged to be a miracle, we -exercise to the full our critical judgment, and follow what seems to us the -weight of evidence. The alleged appearance of our Lady to the young -shepherds of La Salette is possible and not improbable, but before we can -be required to believe it we must have sufficient evidence of the fact. - -Mr. Parkman in his quiet way smiles at the credulity of the good Jesuit -fathers, who seem to believe the stories of Indian magic, witchcraft, or -sorcery which they relate; but has he any evidence that there is no Satan, -and that evil spirits are mere _entia rationis?_ Can he prove that -magic, witchcraft, sorcery, _diablerie_, in any or all its forms, is -impossible or even improbable? All the world from the earliest and in the -most enlightened ages have believed in what the Germans call the Night-side -of Nature, and no man has any right to allege so universal a belief is -unfounded, except on very strong and convincing reasons. Has he such -reasons? Can he disprove the whole series of facts recorded? Can he deny -the facts alleged by our modern necromancers or spiritists, or prove not -that some of them are, but that all of them, are explicable without the -supposition of some superhuman agency? Doubtless there is much illusion, -delusion, cheatery, but is there not also much inexplicable without satanic -influence? Can he say that there is no Satan, that there are no fallen -creatures superior to man in strength and intellect, who harass him, beset -him, possess him, or that tempt him, and perform lying wonders well fitted -to deceive him, and to draw him away from the worship of the true God, -though, of course, unable to harm against the consent of his will? Their -deviltry is superhuman, but not by any means supernatural, and they who -speak of it as supernatural entirely mistake its character. As in the case -of miracles, while we concede the general principle, when we come to -particular facts attributed to satanic agency, we use our critical -judgment, and are, we confess, very slow to believe, and hard to be -convinced. - -We think we have said enough to prove that it is time to leave off the cant -about the despotism of Rome, and to desist from placing the church in -contrast with the free soul. The two poles are rationalism and -supernaturalism; Catholicity combines both in their real synthesis, a -synthesis founded in the creative act of God which really connects creator -and creature in one harmonious whole. -{736} -They who do not perceive it are ignorant of the teachings of Rome, and are -mere sciolists. They have taken only superficial views of both reason and -religion, and have far more reason to deplore their lack of light than to -boast of their intelligence. There is infinitely more in this old church -than is dreamed of in their philosophy. - -Yet nobody pretends that the church teaches the details of science, and -leaves nothing for the human intellect to observe, to investigate, to -arrange, and classify. The church is Catholic, because she teaches in her -doctrine, whether known by natural reason or only by divine revelation, the -universal ideal, or the Catholic principles of all the real and all the -knowable; but she does not teach all the details of cosmology, history, -chemistry, mechanics, geography, astronomy, geology, zoology, physiology, -pathology, philology, or anthropology. She teaches the ideal or general -principles of all the sciences, and teaches them infallibly, and thus gives -the law to all scientific investigation, which _savans_ in their -inductions and deductions are not at liberty to transgress. Our -philosophers and _savans_ are perfectly free to explore nature in all -possible directions, but they are not free to invent hypotheses and -theories not reconcilable with the universal principles she teaches, or to -oppose their conjectures to the principles she asserts, because all such -conjectures or theories are unscientific and false. The ethnologist is free -to investigate the characteristics of the different races and families of -men, but not free to deny the unity of the human race itself, or the -descent of all men from one and the same primitive pair, who must have been -immediately created and instructed by God himself. But this is saying no -more than that the mathematician is not free to reject his axioms, or the -geometrician his definitions; and we may add that, if our scientific men -would take the principles the church teaches as their guide, they would -find themselves much more successful in their observation and -classification of natural phenomena, and save themselves from the ridicule -which they now incur. - -It follows from this that the sciences are not absolutely independent of -the supervision of the church, and that she goes not out of her province -when she censures officially theories, hypotheses, and conjectures which -contradict the ideal truth committed to her charge. They by contradicting -her principles are proved to be unsound and unscientific. But so long as -the scientific confine themselves to facts and real principles, and do not -run or attempt to run athwart the truth, they are perfectly free. The -church interferes with them only when they impugn by their speculations the -universal principles of things. The people, again, are free to adopt the -form of government which they judge best, and civil governments are free to -pursue the policy they judge the wisest and most prudent, so long as they -contravene no principle or dictate of moral justice; and the individual is -free to choose the calling in life he prefers, and to pursue it without let -or hinderance from the church, so long as he violates no divine precept or -law of God. - -There is no doubt some restraint here, for the church excludes neither -authority nor liberty. Liberty without authority is license, and as great -an evil as authority without liberty, which is tyranny or despotism. The -scientific, if truly scientific, study to know reality, the real and -unmixed truth, which is alike independent of her and of them, and they can -obtain it only by conforming to the immutable principles of things, -according to which God has created and governs the universe. The church -approves and encourages free thought and free inquiry, but she certainly -does not permit her children, under pretence of free thought, free inquiry, -or of science, to subvert the very principles on which all science, even -thought itself, depends, or to degrade human nature and abase the dignity -of reason by theories that deprive man of his humanity and rank him with -the beasts that perish. -{737} -Such liberty is repugnant to the very essence of science, and cannot be -entertained for a moment by any one who is anything more than a developed -chimpanzee or gorilla. It is license, not liberty, and introduces only -intellectual anarchy. - -There is, too, a moral order in the universe, and the good of the -individual and society can be secured only by conformity to it. No man, no -nation, no society, no government has or can have the right to do wrong. -The rejection of the restraints of the great fundamental principles of -truth in science and the sciences, and of justice in the individual and in -society, is the greatest of evils, and it is therefore that the church has -it for her office to unite in an indissoluble synthesis both liberty and -authority. To make the fact that she unites authority with liberty, and -tempers each with the other, a ground of reproach against her is no proof -of wisdom. She allows man all the liberty God gives him, and to ask for -more is absurd. - -In teaching the great principles of truth in all orders, and in judging of -their explication and application, the church is infallible, but she is not -infallible in the details of science. She is infallible in teaching -whatever our Lord has commanded her, has revealed to her, and is realizing -in her life, but not necessarily in matters not included in the faith. Her -infallibility does not imply the scientific infallibility of all Catholics. -It is no objection to her and no embarrassment to Catholics, that her -children in the details of science have more or less erred. Others may be -as well acquainted with these details as Catholics, and the scientific -superiority of Catholics is in their knowledge of the great scientific -principles, or what in science is ideal and catholic. Others may know the -facts of history as well, but none can so well know the ideas or principles -which govern the historical development of the race, and the science or -philosophy of history. The same may be said of all the other sciences. - -To fully develop and exhaust the great question we have touched upon in -this article would require a volume, indeed many volumes. We have aimed -rather at giving the principles and method of their solution than at giving -the solution itself. We have left much for the reader to do for himself by -his own thought and study. It is as necessary that readers should think -freely and wisely as that authors should, for mind can speak only to mind. -But we trust that we have said enough to vindicate Rome from the charges -preferred against her, and to prove that they who take pleasure in reviling -her or her faithful children have little reason to boast of their -intelligence or to claim to be the more advanced portion of the race. - ------- - -{738} - - Impressions of Spain. - - By Lady Herbert. - - -The journey to Madrid was uneventful. One more day was spent in Cordova; -once more they visited that glorious mosque; one more day and night was -spent in wearisome diligences and stifling wayside stations, and then they -found themselves again established in their old comfortable quarters at the -"Puerta del Sol." - -It was a relief to think that the "lions" of the place had been more or -less visited, and that all they had to do was to return to the places of -previous interest, and thoroughly enjoy them. The cold during their former -visit had precluded their making any expeditions in the neighborhood, which -omission they now prepared to rectify. Spending the first few days in -seeing their old friends, and obtaining letters of introduction from them, -our travellers resolved that their first excursion should be to the -Escurial. - - - The Escurial and Toledo. - -A railroad is now open from Madrid which passes by the palace; so at -half-past six, one morning, they took their places in the train, which soon -carried them away from the cultivated environs of the city to a country -which, for desolation, wildness, and grandeur, resembles the scenery at -Nicolosi in the ascent of Etna. In the midst of this rugged mass of rocks -and scrubby oak-trees, the large gloomy Escurial rises up, under the -shadow, as it were, of the snowy jagged peaks of the Sierra Guadarama, -which forms its background. There is a picture of it, by Rubens, in the -gallery at Longford Castle, near Salisbury, which gives the best possible -idea of the complete isolation of the great building itself, and of the -savage character of the whole of the surrounding country. - -Leaving the train, our party went to present their letters to the -principal, Padre G----, who very kindly showed them everything most worth -seeing in the place. It is a gigantic pile of masonry, built by Philip II. -as a thanksgiving for the success of the battle of St. Quentin, and in the -shape of a grid-iron, being dedicated to St. Laurence, on the day of whose -martyrdom the vow was made. "Celui qui faisait un si grand voeu doit avoir -eu grande peur!" was the saying of the Duke of Braganza; and the gloomy, -cold, gray character of the whole place is but the reflex of the king's -temperament. He employed the famous architect Herrera, whose genius was, -however, much cramped by the king's insistence on the shape being -maintained. It was finished in 1584. - -The Jeronimite monks have been scattered to the winds, and the convent has -been turned into a college; they have about 250 students. The church is -large and solemn, but bare and uninviting, dismal and sombre, like all the -rest. The choir is up-stairs, with fine carved stalls, among which is that -of Philip II., who always said office with the monks. The painted ceiling -is by Luca Giordano. The choir-books are more than 200 in number, in virgin -calf, and of gigantic size; some of them are beautifully illuminated. At -the back, in a small gallery, with a window looking on the great piazza -below, is the famous white marble Christ, the size of life, by Benvenuto -Cellini, given to Philip II. by the Grand Duke of Florence. On certain days -it is exposed to the people from the window; but wonderful as may be its -anatomy, the expression is both painful and commonplace. Beneath the church -is the famous crypt containing the bodies of all the kings and queens of -Spain since Charles V., arranged in niches round the octagonal chapel. -{739} -Each niche contains a black marble sarcophagus; the kings on the right, and -the queens on the left. Here mass is always said on All Souls' Day, and on -the anniversaries of their deaths. The present queen came once, and looked -at the empty urn waiting for her, but did not repeat the experiment. "I -have come once of my own freewill," she is supposed to have said, "but the -next time I shall be brought here without it." It is a dismal -resting-place; the damp, cold, slippery stairs by which you descend into it -from the church seem to chill one's very blood, and the profound darkness, -only lit up here and there by the flicker of the guide's torch, with the -reverberation caused by the closing of the heavy iron door, till the -thoughts with visions of death, uncheered by hope, and of a prison rather -than a grave. Ascending with a feeling of positive relief to the church -above, Padre G---- took them into the sacristy, which is a beautiful long, -low room, with arabesque ceilings, and at the further end of which is a -very fine picture by Coello, representing the apotheosis of the "Forma," or -miraculous wafer: the heads are all portraits, and admirably executed. At -the back is the little chapel or sanctuary where the "Forma" is kept and -exhibited twice a year. Charles II. erected the gorgeous altar with the -following inscription: - - En magni operis miraculum intra miraculum mundi, - coeli miraculum consecratum. - -The legend states that at the battle of Gorcum, in 1525, the Zuinglian -heretics scattered and trampled on the Sacred Host, _which bled_; and -being gathered up and carefully preserved by the faithful, was afterward -given by Rudolph II. to Philip II., which event is represented in a -bas-relief. In this sacristy are also some vestments of which the -embroidery is the most exquisite thing possible; the faces of the figures -are like beautiful miniatures, so that it is difficult to believe they are -done in needlework. [Footnote 248] - - [Footnote 248: In the Dominican convent of Stone, in Staffordshire, the - same exquisite work is now being reproduced; which proves that the art - is not, as is generally supposed, extinct.] - -But the great treasures of this church are its relics, of which the -quantity is enormous. They are arranged in gigantic cupboards or -"étagères," stretching from the floor to the ceiling, the doors of which -are carefully concealed by the pictures which hang over them, above both -the high altar and the two side altars at the east end. There are more than -7,000 relics, of which the most interesting are those of St. Laurence -himself, (his skull, his winding-sheet, the iron bars of his gridiron, -etc..) the head of St. Hermengilde, sent to the king from Seville, and the -arm and head of St. Agatha. The reliquaries are also very beautiful, some -of them of very fine cinquecento work. These are down-stairs. Up-stairs is -a kind of secret chapel, where there are some things which were still more -interesting to our travellers. Here are four MS. books of St. Theresa's, -all written by her own hand; her Life, written by command of her confessor. -Padre Bánez, with a voucher of its authenticity from him at the end; her -Path of Perfection; her Constitutions and Foundations; also her inkstand -and pen. Her handwriting is more like a man's than a woman's, and is -beautifully clear and firm. There is also a veil worked in a kind of -crochet by St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and sent by her to St. Margaret; a -beautiful illuminated Greek missal, once belonging to St. Chrysostom; a pot -from Cana in Galilee; a beautifully carved ivory diptych; the body of one -of the Holy Innocents, sent from Bethlehem; some exquisite ivory and coral -reliquaries, etc. From the church our party went up by a magnificent -staircase to the library, which though despoiled, like everything else -during the French invasion, still contains some invaluable books and MSS. -{740} -There is an illuminated Apocalypse of the fourteenth century, most -exquisitely painted on both sides; a very fine copy of the Koran; many -other beautiful missals; and in a room down-stairs, not generally shown to -travellers, are some thousands of manuscripts, among which are a wonderful -illuminated copy of the Miracles of the Virgin, in Portuguese and Gallego, -of the eleventh century, most quaint and funny in design and execution; -also a very curious illuminated book of chess problems and other games, -written by order of the king Alonso el Sabio. It is a library where one -might spend days and days with ever-increasing pleasure, if it were not for -the cold, which, to our travellers, fresh from the burning sun of Seville, -seemed almost unendurable. The cloisters, refectory, and kitchens are all -on the most magnificent scale. In the wing set aside for the private -apartments of the royal family, but which they now rarely occupy, the thing -most worth looking at is the tapestry, made in Madrid, at the Barbara -factory, (now closed,) from drawings by Teniers and Goya. They are quite -like beautiful paintings, both in expression and color, though some of the -subjects and scenes are of questionable propriety. There is a suite of -small rooms with beautiful inlaid doors and furniture; a few good pictures, -(among a good deal of rubbish,) especially one of Bosch, known as that of -The Dog and the Fly; and a very interesting gallery or corridor, covered -with frescoes, representing the taking of Granada on the one side and the -battle of St. Quentin on the other, the victory of Lepanto occupying the -spaces at the two ends. These frescoes are very valuable, both as portraits -and as representing the costumes and arms of the period. They were said to -be facsimile copies of original drawings, done on cloths on the actual -spots. That of St. Quentin was specially interesting to one of the party, -whose ancestor fought there, and in whose house in England (Wilton Abbey) -is still shown the armor of Ann Conétable de Montmorency, of the Duc de -Montpensier, of Admiral Coligni, and of other French prisoners taken by him -in that memorable battle. Beyond this gallery is the little business-room -or study of Philip II., with his chair, his gouty stool, his writing-table, -his well-worn letter book, and two old pictures, one of the Seven Deadly -Sins, the other an etching (of 1572) of the Virgin and Saints. Out of this -tiny den is a kind of recess, with a window looking on the high altar in -which he caused his couch to be laid when he was dying. The death-struggle -was prolonged for fifty-three days of almost continuous agony, during which -time he went on holding in his hand the crucifix which Charles V. had when -he expired, and which is still religiously preserved. The gardens in front -of this magnificent palace are very quaint and pretty, the beds being cut -in a succession of terraces overlooking the plains below, and bordered with -low box hedges cut in prim shapes, with straight gravel walks, beautiful -fountains, and marble seats. But it is not difficult to understand why the -poor queen prefers the sunny slopes of La Granja, or even the dulness of -the green avenues of Aranjuez, to this gloomy pile, where the snow hardly -ever melts in the cold shade of those inner courts, and where all the -associations are of death in its most repulsive form. Above the Escurial, -half-way up the mountain, is a rude seat of boulder stones, from whence it -is said Philip II. used to watch the progress of the huge building. - -Returning to the railway station, our travellers walked down the hill and -through a pleasantly wooded avenue to a little "maisonnette" of the -Infanta, built for Charles IV. when heir-apparent, and containing some -beautiful ivories and Wedgwoods. The gardens are pretty and bright, but the -whole thing is too small to be anything but a child's toy. An accident on -the line, somewhere near Avila, detained our party for six mortal hours at -a wretched little wayside station, of which the authorities flatly refused -to put on a short special train, although there were a large number of -passengers, in addition to our travellers, waiting, like them, to return to -Madrid. -{741} -But the Spanish mind cannot take in the idea of any one being in a hurry. -"Ora!" "Mañana!" (By and by! To-morrow!) are the despairing words which -meet one at every turn in this country. In this instance, neither horses -nor carriages being procurable, by which the journey to Madrid (only twenty -miles) could have been accomplished with perfect facility by road, our -travellers had nothing left for it but to wait. Patience, and such sleep as -could be got on a hard bench, were their only resource until one in the -morning, when the night express fortunately came up, and, after some demur, -agreed to take them back to Madrid. - -Too tired the following day to start early again for Toledo, as they had -intended, our party took advantage of the kindness of the English minister -to see the queen's private library, which is in one of the wings of the -large but uninteresting modern palace. The librarian good-naturedly showed -them some of the rarest of his treasures: among them is a beautiful missal, -bound in shagreen, with lovely enamel clasps and exquisite illuminations, -which had belonged to Queen Isabella of Castile; her arms, Arragon on one -side and Castile on the other, were worked into the illuminations on the -cover. There was a still older missal illuminated in 1315, in which is -found the first mention of _St. Louis_ in the Kalendar. Here also are -some of the first books printed in type, and a very fine MS. Greek copy of -Aristotle. - -Afterward, they came to a distant room, where Dr.---- found what he had -long sought for in vain--a quantity of the MS. letters of Gondomar, -minister from Spain to our King James I., giving an amusing and gossiping -account of people and things in England at that time. In this library is -also a very curious and interesting MS. life of Cardinal Wolsey. - -In the evening, one of our party paid a visit to the Papal Nuncio, -Monsignor B----, a very kind, clever, and agreeable man, living in a quaint -old house, with a snug library, in which hangs a pretty oil painting of -Tyana, a picturesque country near Barcelona, of which he is archbishop. -From him, and from the venerable Monsignor S----, bishop of Daulia, she -obtained certain letters of introduction to prelates and convents, which -were invaluable in her future tour, and procured for her a kind and -courteous welcome wherever she went. - -The following morning, after a five o'clock mass in the beautiful little -chapel of the sisters of charity, our travellers started for Toledo by -rail, passing by the Aranjuez, the "Sans-Souci" of the Spanish queen, where -all the trees in Castile seem to be collected for her special benefit, and -where the sight of the green avenues and fountains is a real refreshment -after the barren and arid features of the rest of the country. - -Toledo is a most curious and beautiful old town, built on seven hills, like -Rome. The approach to it is by a picturesque bridge over the Tagus, which -rushes through a rent in the granite mountains like a vigorous Scotch -salmon-river, and encircles the walls of the ancient city as with a girdle. -Passing under a fine old Moorish horse-shoe arched gateway, a modern zigzag -road leads up the steep incline to the "plaza," out of which diverge a -multitude of narrow tortuous streets, like what in Edinburgh are called -"wynds," as painful to walk upon as the streets of Jerusalem. However, -after a vain attempt to continue in the Noah's Ark of an omnibus which had -brought them up the steep hill from the station, and which grazed the walls -of the houses on each side from its width, our travellers were compelled to -brave the slippery stones and proceed on foot. The little inn is as -primitive as all else in this quaint old town, where everything seems to -have stood still for the last five centuries. Leaving their cloaks in the -only available place dignified by the name of "Sala," and swallowing with -difficulty some very nasty coffee, they started off at once for the -cathedral, which stands in the heart of the city, surrounded by convents -and colleges, and with the archiepiscopal palace on the right. -{742} -It is a marvel of Gothic beauty and perfection. Originally a mosque, it was -rebuilt by Ferdinand, and converted by him into a Christian church, being -finished in 1490. In no part of the world can anything be seen more unique, -more beautiful, or more effective than the white marble screen, with its -row of white angels with half-folded wings, guarding the sanctuary of the -high altar, and standing out sharp and clear against the magnificent dark -background formed by the arched naves and matchless painted glass, which, -in depth and brilliancy of color and beauty of design, exceeds even that of -Seville. "Shall you ever forget the blue eyes of those rose-windows at -Toledo?" exclaimed, months after, Dr.---- to one of the party, who was -dwelling with him on the wonderful beauties of this matchless temple. -[Footnote 249] - - [Footnote 249: Incredible as it may seem, the guide-books state that - there are no less than 750 stained glass windows in this cathedral.] - -The choir is exquisitely carved, both above and below; the stalls divided -by red marble columns. Of the seventy stalls, half are carved by Vigarny -and half by Berruguete: each figure of each saint is a study in itself. The -high altar is a perfect marvel of workmanship, the "reredos" or "retablo" -representing the whole life and passion of our Lord. At the back is the -wonderful marble "trasparente," which Ford calls an "abomination of the -seventeenth century," but which, when the sun shines through it, is a -marvel for effect of color and delicacy of workmanship. The Moorish altar -still remains at which Ferdinand and Isabella heard mass after their -conquest of the Saracens; and close to this altar is the spot pointed out -by tradition as the one where the virgin appeared to St. Ildefonso and -placed the chasuble on his shoulders. It is veiled off, with this -inscription on the pillar above: - - Adorabimus in loco ubi steterunt pedes ejus. - -The fine bas-relief representing the miracle was executed by Vigarny. -Fragments of Saracenic art peep out everywhere, especially in the Sala -Capitular, or chapter-room, of which the doorway is an exquisite specimen -of the finest Moorish work, and the ceiling likewise. In this chapter-room -are two admirable portraits of Cardinal Ximenes and Cardinal Mendoza, said -to have been taken from life. The monuments in the side chapels are very -fine, especially one of St. Ildefonso, whose body had been carried by the -the Moors to Zamora, and was there discovered by a shepherd, and brought -back again; of Cardinal Mendoza; of the Constable Alvaro de Luna; and of -several Spanish kings. Here also rests the body of St. Leocadia, martyred -in the persecution under Diocletian, and to whom three churches in Toledo -are dedicated. During the wars with the Moors, her body was removed to -Italy, and thence to Mons; but was brought back by Philip II. to her native -city, and is now in an urn in the sacristy. At the west end of the -cathedral is a very curious chapel, where the Muzarabic ritual is still -used. This appears to be to the Spaniards what the Ambrosian is to the -Milanese, and was established by Cardinal Ximenes. The sacristy is a real -treasure-house, containing an exquisite tabernacle of gold brought by -Christopher Columbus, incensories, chalices, crosses, and reliquaries, in -gold and enamel, and "cristal de roche," (some given by Louis of France,) -and the missal of St. Louis, of which the illuminations are as fine as any -in the Vatican. The robes, mantles, and ornaments of the Virgin are -encrusted with pearls and jewels. Cardinal Mendoza removed one side of the -marble screen of the high altar to make room for his own monument. In -contrast to this, is another archbishop's tomb, near the altar of the -miraculous Virgin. They wanted to give him a fine carved sepulchre, and -were discussing it in his presence a short time before his death. -{743} -He insisted on a simple slab, with the following words: - - "Hic jacet pulvis, cinis, nullus." - -Close to the bénitière at the south entrance, is a little marble slab -attached to the pillar, and on it a little soft leather cushion, which had -excited the curiosity of one of our party on entering. On returning for -vespers, she found laid on it a fine little baby, beautifully dressed, with -a medal round its neck, but quite dead! One of the canons explained to her -that when the parents were too poor to pay the expenses of their children's -funerals, they brought the little bodies in this way for interment by the -chapter. The cloisters to the north of the cathedral are very lofty and -fine, and decorated with frescoes; and the doors with their magnificent -bronze bas-reliefs, in the style of the Florence baptistery, and gloriously -carved portals, are on a par with all the rest. The "Puerta del Perdon," -and the "Puerta de los Leones," especially, are unique in their gorgeous -details, and in the great beauty and life-like expression of the figures. - -The chapter library is in good order, and contains some very fine editions -of Greek and Latin works: a Bible belonging to St. Isidore; the works of -St. Gregory; a fine illuminated Bible given by St. Louis; a missal of -Charles V.; a fine Talmud and Koran; and some very interesting MSS. In the -ante-room are some good pictures. - -The palace of the archbishop is exactly opposite the west front of the -cathedral. No one has played a more important part in the history of his -country of late years than the present Archbishop of Toledo. High in the -favor and counsels of the queen, he at one time determined, for political -reasons, to leave Spain and settle himself in Italy, but was recalled by -the voice of both queen and people, and remains, beloved and honored by -all; and although upward of eighty years of age, and rather deaf, is still -a perfect lion of intellectual and physical strength. He received our -travellers most kindly, and in a fatherly manner invited them to breakfast, -and afterward to be present at a private confirmation in the little chapel -of his palace, at which ceremony they gladly assisted. He afterward sent -his secretary, a most clever and agreeable person, who spoke Italian with -fluency, to show the ladies the convent of Sta. Teresa, situated in the -lower part of the town. This convent was started, like all the rest of the -saint's foundations, amidst discouragements and difficulties of all kinds. -The house which had been promised her before her arrival was refused -through the intrigues of a relative of the donor; then the vicar-general -withdrew his license; and St. Theresa began to fear that she would have to -leave Toledo without accomplishing her object. Through the intervention of -a poor man, however, she at last heard of a tiny lodging where she and her -sisters could be received. It was a very humble place, and there was but -one room in it which could be turned into a chapel; but that was duly -prepared for mass, and dedicated to St. Joseph. Poor and meagre as the -sanctuary was, it struck a little child who was passing by, by its bright -and cared-for appearance, and she exclaimed: "Blessed be God! how beautiful -and clean it looks!" St. Theresa said directly to her sisters: "I account -myself well repaid for all the troubles which have attended this foundation -by that little angel's one 'Glory to God.'" - -Afterward, all difficulties were smoothed; a larger house was built; and -the poor Carmelites, from being despised and rejected by all, and in want -of the commonest necessaries of life, were overwhelmed with supplies of all -kinds, so that one of them, in sorrow, exclaimed to St. Theresa: "What are -we to do, Mother? for now it seems that we are no longer poor!" - -{744} - -It was this very house which our travellers now visited, and a far cheerier -and brighter one it is than that of Seville. It contains twenty-four -sisters: among their treasures are the MS. copy of St. Theresa's Way of -Perfection, corrected by the saint herself, and with a short preface -written in her own hand; a quantity of her autograph letters; a long letter -from Sister Ann of St. Bartholomew; St. Theresa's seal, of which the ladies -were given an impression; the habit she had worn in the house, etc., etc. -But the most curious thing was the picture, painted by desire of the saint, -of the death of one of the community. We will tell the story in her own -words: "One of our sisters fell dangerously ill, and I went to pray for her -before the Blessed Sacrament, beseeching our Lord to give her a happy -death. I then came back to her cell to stay with her, and on my entrance -distinctly saw a figure like the representations of our Lord, at the bed's -head, with His arms outspread as if protecting her, and he said to me: 'Be -assured that in like manner I will protect all the nuns who shall die in -these monasteries, so that they shall not fear any temptation at the hour -of death.' A short time after, I spoke to her, when she said to me: -'Mother, what great things I am about to see!' and with these words she -expired, like an angel." St. Theresa had this subject represented in a -fresco, which is still on the wall of the cell. Here also she completed the -narrative of her life, now in the Escurial, by command of Padre Ibañez, and -here is her breviary, with the words (which we will give in English) -written by herself on the fly-leaf: - - "Let nothing disturb thee; - Let nothing affright thee; - All passeth away; - God only shall stay. - Patience wins all. - Who hath God needeth nothing. - For God is his All." - -Leaving this interesting convent, our travellers proceeded to San Juan de -los Reyes, so called because built by Ferdinand and Isabella, and dedicated -to St. John. It was a magnificent Gothic building; but the only thing in -the church spared by the French are two exquisite "palcos" or balconies -overlooking the high altar, in the finest Gothic carving, from whence -Ferdinand and Isabella used to hear mass: their ciphers are beautifully -wrought in stone underneath. Outside this church hang the chains which were -taken off the Christian prisoners when they were released from the Moors. -Adjoining is the convent, now deserted, and the palace of Cardinal Ximenes, -of which the staircase and one long low room alone remain. But the gem of -the whole are the cloisters. Never was anything half so beautiful or so -delicate as the Moorish tracery and exquisite patterns of grape-vine, -thistle, and acanthus, carved round each quaint-shaped arch and window and -door-way. Festoons of real passion flowers, in full bloom, hung over the -arches from the "patio" in the centre, in which a few fine cypresses and -pomegranates were also growing, the dark foliage standing out against the -bright blue sky overhead, and beautifully contrasting with the delicate -white marble tracery of this exquisite double cloister. It is a place where -an artist might revel for a month. - -Their guide then took them to see the synagogues, now converted into -Christian churches, but originally mosques. Exquisite Saracenic carvings -remain on the walls and roofs, with fine old Moorish capitals to the -pillars, of their favorite pine apple pattern, and beautiful colored -"azulejos" (tiles) on the floors and seats. Several of the private houses -which they afterward visited at Toledo might literally have been taken up -at Damascus and set down in this quaint old Spanish town, so identical are -they in design, in decorations, and in general character. The nails on the -doors are specially quaint, mostly of the shape of big mushrooms, and the -knockers are also wonderful. Could the fashion, once in vogue among "fast" -men in England, of wrenching such articles from the doors, be introduced -into Spain, what art treasures one could get! but scarcely anything of the -sort is to be bought in Toledo. -{745} -After trying in vain to swallow some of the food prepared for them at the -"fonda," in which it was hard to say whether garlic or rancid oil most -predominated, our travellers toiled again in the burning sun up the steep -hill leading to the Alcazar, the ancient palace, now a ruin, but still -retaining its fine old staircase and court-yard with very ancient Roman -pillars. From hence there is a beautiful view of the town, of the Tagus -flowing round it, and of the picturesque one-arched bridge which spans the -river in the approach from Madrid, with the ruins of the older Roman bridge -and forts below. The Tagus here rushes down a rapid with a fine fall, -looking like a salmon-leap, where there ought to be first-rate pools and -beautiful fishing; and then flows swiftly and silently along through a -grand gorge of rocks to the left. By the river-side was the Turkish -water-wheel, or "sakeel," worked by mules. The whole thing was thoroughly -Eastern; and the red, barren, arid look of the rocks and of the whole -surrounding country reminded one more of Syria than of anything European. -Our travellers were leaning over the parapet of the little terrace-garden, -looking on this glorious view, when a group of women who were sitting in -the sun near the palace-gates called to their guide, and asked if the lady -of the party were an Englishwoman, "as she walked so fast." The guide -replied in the affirmative. One of them answered, "O! qué peccado! (what a -pity!) I liked her face, and _yet she is an infidel_." The guide -indignantly pointed to a little crucifix which hung on a rosary by the -lady's side, at which the speaker, springing from her seat, impulsively -kissed both the cross and the lady. This is only a specimen of the faith of -these people, who cannot understand anything Christian that is not -Catholic, and confound all Protestants with Jews or Moors. - -Going down the hill, stopping only for a few moments at a curiosity shop -where, however, nothing really old could be obtained--they came to the -Church of La Cruz, built on the site of the martyrdom of St. Leocadia. It -is now turned into a military college; but the magnificent Gothic portal -and facade remain. The streets are as narrow and dirty in this part of the -town as in the filthiest eastern city; but at every turn there is a -beautiful doorway, as at Cairo, through which you peep into a cool "patio," -with its usual fountain and orange-trees; while a double cloister runs -round the quadrangle, and generally a picturesque side staircase, with a -beautifully carved balustrade, leading up to the cloisters above, with -their delicate tracery and varied arches. The beauty of the towers and -"campanile" is also very striking. They are generally thoroughly Roman in -their character, being built of that narrow brick (or rather tile) so -common for the purpose in Italy, but with the horse-shoe arch: that of S. -Romano is the most perfect. There is also a lovely little mosque, with a -well in the court-yard near the entrance, which has now been converted into -a church under the title of "Sta. Cruz de la Luz," with a wonderful -intersection of horse-shoe arches, like a miniature of the cathedral at -Cordova. Toledo certainly does not lack churches or convents; but those who -served and prayed in them, where are they? The terrible want of instruction -for the people, caused by the closing of all the male religious houses, -which were the centre of all missionary work, is felt throughout Spain; but -nowhere more than in this grand old town, which is absolutely _dead_. -The children are neglected, the poor without a friend, the widow and orphan -are desolate, and all seek in vain for a helper or a guide. - -On the opposite side of the Tagus, and not far from the railway station, -are the ruins of a curious old chateau, to which a legend is attached, so -characteristic of the tone of thought of the people that it is given -verbatim here. [Footnote 250] - - [Footnote 250: This legend has been translated by Fernan Caballero, in - her Fleurs des Champs.] - -{746} - - "The owner had been a bad and tyrannical man, hard and unjust to his - people, selfish in his vices as in his pleasures; the only redeeming - point about him was his great love for his wife, a pious, gentle, loving - woman, who spent her days and nights in deploring the orgies of her - husband, and praying for God's mercy on his crimes. One winter's night, - in the midst of a terrible tempest, a knocking was heard at the castle - door, and presently a servant came in and told his mistress that two - monks, half dead with cold and hunger, and drenched by the pitiless - storm, had lost their way, and were begging for a night's lodging in the - castle. The poor lady did not know what to do, for her husband hated the - monks, and swore that none should ever cross his threshold. 'The count - will know nothing about it, my lady,' said the old servant, who guessed - the reason of her hesitation; 'I will conceal them somewhere in the - stable, and they will depart at break of day.' The lady gave a joyful - assent to the servant's proposal, and the monks were admitted. Scarcely, - however, had they entered, when the sound of a huntsman's horn, the - tramping of horses, and the barking of dogs, announced the return of the - master. The sport had been good; and when he had changed his soiled and - dripping clothes, and found himself, with his pretty wife seated opposite - him, by a blazing fire, and with a well-covered table, his good humor - made him almost tender toward her. 'What is the matter?' he exclaimed, - when he saw her sad and downcast face. 'Were you frightened at the storm? - yet you see I am come home safe and sound.' She did not answer. 'Tell me - what vexes you; I insist upon it,' he continued; 'and it shall not be my - fault I do not brighten that little face I love so well!' Thus encouraged - the lady replied: 'I am sad, because, while we are enjoying every luxury - and comfort here, others whom I know, even under this very roof, are - perishing with cold and hunger.' 'But who are they?' exclaimed the count, - with some impatience. 'Two poor monks,' answered the lady bravely, 'who - came here for shelter, and have been put in the stable without food or - firing.' The count frowned. 'Monks! Have I not told you fifty times I - would never have those idle pestilent fellows in my house?' He rang the - bell. 'For God's sake do not turn them out [on] such a night as this!' - exclaimed the countess. 'Don't be afraid, I will keep my word,' replied - her husband; and so saying, he desired the servant to bring them directly - into the dining-room. They appeared; and the venerable, saint-like - appearance of the elder of the two priests checked the raillery on the - lips of the count. He made them sit down at his table; but the religious, - faithful to his mission, would not eat till he had spoken some of God's - words to his host. After supper, to his wife's joy and surprise, the - count conducted the monks himself to the rooms he had prepared for them, - which were the best in the house; but they refused to sleep on anything - but straw. The count then himself went and fetched a truss of hay, and - laid it on the floor. Then suddenly breaking silence, he exclaimed: - 'Father, I would return as a prodigal son to my Father's house; but I - feel as if it were impossible that he should forgive sins like mine.' - 'Were your sins as numberless as the grains of sand on the sea-shore,' - replied the missionary,' faithful repentance, through the blood of - Christ, would wash them out. Therefore it is that the hardened sinner - will have no excuse in the last day.' Seized with sudden compunction, the - count fell on his knees, and made a full confession of his whole life, - his tears falling on the straw he had brought. A few hours later the - missionary, in a dream, saw himself, as it were, carried before the - tribunal of the Great Judge. In the scales of eternal justice a soul was - to be weighed: it was that of the count. Satan, triumphant, placed in the - scales the countless sins of his past life: the good angels veiled their - faces in sorrow, and pity, and shame. Then came up his guardian angel, - that spirit so patient and so watchful, so beautiful and so good, who - brings tears to our eyes and repentance to our hearts, alms to our hands - and prayers to our lips. -{747} - He brought but a few bits of straw, wet with tears, and placed them in - the opposite scale. Strange! _they weighed down all the rest_. The - soul was saved. The next morning, the monk, on waking, found the castle - in confusion and sorrow. He inquired the reason: its master had died in - the night." - - - Zaragoza And Segovia. - -The following morning found our travellers again in Madrid, and one of them -accompanied the sisters of charity to a beautiful fète at San Juan de -Alarçon, a convent of nuns. The rest of the day was spent in the museum; -and at half-past eight in the evening they started again by train for -Zaragoza, which they reached at six in the morning. One of the great -annoyances of Spanish travelling is, that the only good and quick trains go -at night; and it is the same with the diligences. In very hot weather it -may be pleasant; but in winter and in rain it is a very wretched proceeding -to spend half your night in an uncomfortable carriage, and the other half -waiting, perhaps for hours, at some miserable wayside station. After -breakfasting in a hotel where nothing was either eatable or drinkable, our -party started for the two cathedrals. The one called the "Seu" is a fine -gloomy old Gothic building, with a magnificent "retablo," in very fine -carving, over the high altar, and what the people call a "media naranja" -(or half-orange) dome, which is rather like the clerestory lantern of -Burgos. In the sacristy was a beautiful ostensorium, with an emerald and -pearl cross, a magnificent silver tabernacle of cinquecento work, another -ostensorium encrusted with diamonds, a nacre "nef," and some fine heads of -saints, in silver, with enamel collars. But at the sister cathedral, where -is the famous _Virgen del Pilar_, the treasury is quite priceless. The -most exquisite reliquaries in pearls, precious stones, and enamel; -magnificent necklaces; earrings with gigantic pearls; coronets of diamonds; -lockets; pictures set in precious stones; everything which is most valuable -and beautiful, has been lavished on this shrine. In the outside sacristy is -also an exquisite chalice, in gold and enamel, of the fifteenth century; -and a very fine picture, said to be by Correggio, of the Ecce Homo. The -shrine of the Miraculous Virgin is thronged with worshippers, day and -night; but no woman is allowed to penetrate beyond the railing, so that she -is very imperfectly seen. It is a _black_ figure, which is always the -favorite way of representing the Blessed Virgin in Spain: the pillar is of -the purest alabaster. There is some fine "azulejo" work in the sacristy; -but the cathedral itself is ugly, and is being restored in a bad style. Our -party left it rather with relief, and wandered down to the fine old bridge -over the Ebro, which is here a broad and rapid stream, and amused -themselves by watching the boats shooting through the piers--an operation -of some danger, owing to the rapidity of the current. There is a beautiful -leaning tower of old Moorish and Roman brickwork, in a side street, but -which you are not allowed to ascend without a special order from the -prefect. The Lonja, or Exchange, is also well worth seeing, from its -beautiful deep overhanging roof. This is, in fact, the characteristic of -all the old houses in Zaragoza, which is a quaint old town formed of a -succession of narrow tortuous streets, with curious old roofs, "patios," -columns, and staircases. After having some luncheon, which was more eatable -than the breakfast, our travellers took a drive outside the town, and had a -beautiful view of the lower spur of the Pyrenees on the one hand, and of -the towers, bridges, and minarets of the city on the other. Then they went -to the public gardens, laid out by Pignatelli, the maker of the canal, -which are the resort of all the people on fête-days: they were very gay, -and full of beautiful flowers. -{748} -From thence they drove to the castle, or "Aljaferia," where there is a very -curious moresque chapel still existing, though sadly in ruins. Above are -the rooms occupied by Ferdinand and Isabella, and the apartment where St. -Elizabeth of Portugal was born, with the font where she was baptized. The -hall of the ambassadors is very handsome, with a glorious moresque roof, -and a gallery round. The castle is now turned into a barrack; but the -officers, who, with true Spanish courtesy, had accompanied the priest who -was showing the rooms to our travellers, _had never seen them before -themselves_. How long they had been quartered there none of our party -had the courage to ask! But this is a specimen of the very little interest -which appears to be taken by the Spaniards in the antiquities or art -treasures of their country. Not one of them was ever to be seen in the -matchless gallery of Madrid. Coming home, they visited San Pablo, a curious -and beautiful subterranean church, into which you descend by a flight of -steps. A service was going on, and an eloquent sermon, so that it was -impossible to see the pictures well; but they appeared to be above the -average. This church has a glorious tower in old Roman brickwork. The -palace of the Infanta has been converted into a school. It is the most -perfect specimen of the Renaissance style of Gothic architecture, with -beautiful arches, columns, staircase, and fretted roof. Exhausted with -their sight-seeing, our travellers went back to their inn; agreeably -surprised, however, at the vestiges of ancient beauty still left in -Zaragoza, after the frightful sieges and sacking to which the city has -twice been subjected. - -In the evening, the Canon de V----, who had been their kind cicerone at the -cathedral in the absence of the bishop, came to pay them a visit, and gave -them a very interesting account of the people, and a great deal of -information about the convents and religious houses in the place, -especially that of the Ursulines, who have a very large educational -establishment in the town. He has lately written a very interesting account -of the foundress of this order. - -The return to Madrid was necessarily accomplished again by night; and jaded -and tired as they were the following day, our party had not the courage for -any fresh expedition. One only visit was paid, which will ever remain in -the memory of the lady who had the privilege. It was to Monsignor Claret, -the confessor of the queen and Archbishop of Cuba, a man as remarkable for -his great personal holiness and ascetic life as for the unjust accusations -of which he is continually the object. On one occasion, these unfavorable -reports having reached his ears, and being only anxious to retire into the -obscurity which his humility makes him love so well, he went to Rome to -implore for a release from his present post; but it was refused him. -Returning through France, he happened to travel with certain gentlemen, -residents in Madrid, but unknown to him, as he was to them, who began to -speak of all the evils, real or imaginary, which reigned in the Spanish -Court, the whole of which they unhesitatingly attributed to Monsignor -Claret, very much in the spirit of the old ballad against Sir Robert Peel: - - "Who filled the butchers' shops with big blue flies?" - -He listened without a word, never attempting either excuse or -justification, or betraying his identity. Struck with his saint-like manner -and appearance, and likewise very much charmed with his conversation during -their couple of days' journey together, the strangers begged, at parting, -to know his name, expressing an earnest hope of an increased acquaintance -at Madrid. He gave them his card with a smile! Let us hope they will be -less hasty and more charitable in their judgments for the future. Monsignor -Claret's room in Madrid is a fair type of himself. Simple even to severity -in its fittings, with no furniture but his books, and some photographs of -the queen and her children, it contains one only priceless object, and that -is a wooden crucifix, of the very finest Spanish workmanship, which -attracted at once the attention of his visitor. -{749} -"Yes, it is very beautiful," he replied, in answer to her words of -admiration; "and I like it because it expresses so wonderfully _victory -over suffering_. Crucifixes generally represent only the painful and -human, not the triumphant and Divine view of the Redemption. Here, He is -truly Victor over death and hell." - -Contrary to the generally received idea, he never meddles in politics, and -occupies himself entirely in devotional and literary works. One of his -books, Camino recto y seguro para llegar al Cielo, would rank with Thomas à -Kempis's Imitation in suggestive and practical devotion. He keeps a -perpetual fast; and when compelled by his position to dine at the palace, -still keeps to his meagre fare of "garbanzos," or the like. He has a great -gift of preaching; and when he accompanies the queen in any of her royal -progresses, is generally met at each town when they arrive by earnest -petitions to preach, which he does instantly, without rest or apparent -preparation, sometimes delivering four or five sermons in one day. In -truth, he is always "prepared," by a hidden life of perpetual prayer and -realization of the Unseen. - -After taking leave of him and the Nunzio, and of the many other kind -friends who had made their stay at Madrid so pleasant, our travellers -started at eight o'clock in the evening for Villa Alba, where they were to -take the diligence for Segovia. The night was clear and beautiful, and the -scenery through which they passed was finer than any they had seen in -Spain. At dawn they came almost suddenly on this most quaint and -picturesque of cities, standing on a rocky knoll more than 3,000 feet above -the sea, encircled by a rapid river, and with the most magnificent -aqueduct, built by Trajan to convoy the pure water of the river Frio from -the neighboring sierra to the town. This aqueduct commences with single -arches, which rise higher as the dip of the ground deepens, until they -become double. The centre ones are 102 feet high, and the whole is built of -massive blocks of granite, without cement or mortar. A succession of -picturesque towers and ancient walls remain to mark the boundaries of the -old Roman city. - -The diligence unceremoniously turned our travellers out into the street at -the bottom of the town, and left them to find their way as best they could -to the little "fonda" in the square above. It was very clean and tidy, with -the box-beds opening out of the sitting-rooms, which are universal in the -old-fashioned inns of Spain, and always remind one of a Highland bothie. -The daughter of the house showed off her white linen with great pride, and -was rather affronted because two of the party preferred going to church to -trying her sheets, stoutly declaring that "no one was yet awake, and no -mass could yet be obtained." However, on leaving her, and gently pushing -open one of the low side-doors of the cathedral close by, the ladies found -that the five o'clock services had begun at most of the altars, with a very -fair sprinkling of peasants at each. The circular triple apse at the east -end of this cathedral, from the warm color of the stone, and the beauty of -its flying buttresses and Gothic pinnacles, is deservedly reckoned one of -the finest in Spain. The tower also is beautiful; and the view from the -cupola over the city, the fertile valleys beneath, and the snow-tipped -mountains beyond, is quite unrivalled. The interior has been a good deal -spoiled by modern innovations, but still contains some glorious painted -glass, a very fine "retablo" by Juni of the "Deposition from the Cross," -and some curious monuments, especially one of the Infanta Don Pedro, son of -Henry II.. who was killed by being let fall from the window of the Alcazar -by his nurse. The Gothic cloisters are also worth seeing. After service, as -it was still very early, the two ladies wandered about this beautiful -quaint old town, in which every house is a study for a painter, and found -themselves at last at the Alameda, a public promenade on the ramparts, -shaded by fine acacias, and the approach to which, on the cathedral side, -is through a beautiful Moorish horse-shoe arched gateway. -{750} -From thence some stone steps led them up to a most curious old Norman -church, with an open cloister running round it, with beautiful circular -arches and dog-toothed mouldings; opposite is a kind of Hôtel de Ville, -with a fine gateway, cloistered "patio," and staircase carved "à jour." In -a narrow street, a little lower down, is the exquisite Gothic façade of the -Casa de Segovia, and turning to the left is another curious and beautiful -church, La Vera Cruz, built by the Templars, and with a little chapel in it -on the exact model of that of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. The zigzag -and billet dog-tooth mouldings round the windows and doorways are very -fine. A little higher up is the Parral, a deserted convent, with a -beautiful church, richly carved portal and choir, fine monuments, -cloisters, and gardens: the latter had such a reputation that they give -rise to the saying, "Las huertas del Parral, paraiso terrenal." Fairly -tired out with sight-seeing before breakfast, the ladies climbed up again -to the Plaza de la Constitucion, which was like the square of an old German -town, having endlessly varied and colored houses with high roofs; and were -glad to find the rest of the party awake at last, and sitting round a table -with the invariably good chocolate and white bread of the country. The meal -over, one of the ladies started off with a little boy as her guide, to -present her letters of introduction to the bishop, who lived in a -picturesque old palace in the Plaza of San Esteban, the fine church -opposite, with its beautiful tower, Saxon arches, and open cloister, being -dedicated to that saint. He received his visitor with great good nature, -and instantly countersigned the Nunzio's order for her to visit the -Carmelite convent of Sta. Teresa, sending his vicar-general to accompany -her. This house is the original one purchased for the saint, in 1574, by -Dona Ana de Ximenes, who was the first lady to receive the habit in -Segovia. It is dedicated to St. Joseph, and the first mass was said in it -by St. John of the Cross. The nuns maintain the reformed rule in all its -austerity. They showed their visitor the saint's cell, now converted into -an oratory, and also the room of St. John of the Cross, whose convent is in -the valley below, just outside the walls of the town. There his body -rests--that body still uncorrupted, of one of whom it has been truly said -that he was a "cherub in wisdom and a seraph in love." On the door of his -cell is his favorite sentence: - - Pati et contemni pro Te! - -This convent is rich both in his letters and in those of St. Theresa. Here -it was that the saint received the news of the death of her favorite -brother, Laurence de Cepeda. She was quietly at work during recreation when -he appeared to her; the saint, without uttering a word, put down her work -and hastened to the choir to commend the departed spirit to our Lord. She -had no sooner knelt before the blessed sacrament than an expression of -intense peace and joy came over her face. Her sisters asked her the reason, -and she told them that our Lord had then revealed to her the assurance that -her brother was in heaven. His sudden death occurred at the very moment -when he had appeared to her in the recreation room. Over the door of her -oratory are the words, "Seek the cross," "Desire the cross;" and a little -farther on, "Let us teach more by works than by words." After spending two -or three hours with the sisters, the English lady was compelled reluctantly -to leave them and return to her party, who were waiting for her to go with -them to the Alcazar. - -This palace, originally Moorish, was rebuilt by Henry IV. in the fifteenth -century. It was the favorite residence of Isabella of Castile, and from -thence, on the occasion of a revolution, she rode out alone, and "by her -sweetness of countenance more than by her majesty," as the old chronicle -says, "won over the people to return to their allegiance." -{751} -Our King Charles I. lodged here also, and is recorded to have supped on -certain "troutes of extraordinary greatness," doubtless from the beautiful -stream below. At the time of the French invasion the Alcazar was turned -into a military college, and these wretched students, in a freak of boyish -folly, set fire to a portion of one of the rooms two years ago. The fire -spread; and all that is now left of this matchless palace is a ruined -shell, the façade, the beautiful Moorish towers and battlements, one or two -sculptured arabesque ceilings, and the portcullised gateway, each and all -testifying to its former greatness and splendor. Its position, perched on a -steep plateau forming the western extremity of the town, is quite -magnificent, and the views from the windows are glorious. Our travellers -staid a long time sitting under the shade of the orange-trees in the -battlemented court below, enjoying the glorious panorama at their feet, and -watching the setting sun as it lit up the tips of the snowy sierra which -forms the background of this grand landscape; while the beautiful river -Eresma flowed swiftly round the old walls, its banks occupied at that -moment by groups of washerwomen in their bright picturesque dresses, -singing in parts the national songs of their country. In the valley below -were scattered homesteads and convents, and a group of cypresses marking -the spot where, according to the legend, Maria del Salto alighted. This -girl was a Jewess by birth, but secretly a Christian; and having thereby -excited the anger and suspicions of her family, was accused by them of -adultery, and condemned, according to the barbarous practice of those -times, to be thrown from the top of the Alcazar rock. By her faith she was -miraculously preserved from injury, and reached the ground in safety; a -church was built on the spot, of which the "retablo" tells the tale. - -Segovia is famous for its flocks, and for the beauty of its wool: the water -of the Eresma is supposed to be admirable for washing and shearing. - -Our travellers now began to think of pursuing their journey to Avila; but -that was not so easy. The diligence which had brought them flatly refused -to convey them back till the following night, except at a price so -exorbitant that it was impossible to give it. And here, as everywhere else -in Spain, you have no redress. There are no carriages whatever for hire, -except in the two or three large capitals, like Madrid and Seville; and -even should carriages be found, there are no horses or mules to draw -them--or, at any rate, none that they choose to let out for the purpose. -Such as they are, they are always reserved for the diligence; and if the -latter should happen to be full, the unhappy passengers may wait for days -at a wayside "posada" until their turn comes. Therefore, it is absolutely -necessary in Spain to write and make the contract for places beforehand: -and to be hard-hearted when the time comes, as it almost invariably happens -that you leave behind certain luckless travellers who have not adopted a -similar precaution; and the struggle for seats, and consequent overcrowding -of the carriages, are renewed at every station. Making a virtue of -necessity, our travellers at last made up their minds to another miserable -diligence night out of bed--the fatigue of which must be felt to be -thoroughly sympathized with--and spent the intervening hours of the evening -in dining, and then going to a religious play, which they had seen -advertised in the morning, and which was a very curious exhibition of -popular taste and religious feeling. The little theatre was really very -clean and tidy, and there was nothing approaching to irreverence in the -representations given. A similar scene in a very different place recurred -to the memory of one of the party, as having been witnessed by her in -Paris, some years ago, when on a certain occasion she accompanied a -somewhat stiff puritanical old lady to the opera. -{752} -A ballet was given as an entr'acte, in which the scenery was taken from the -book of Genesis, and Noah and his sons appeared just coming out of the Ark. -This was too much for the good lady: "If Noah either dances or sings," she -exclaimed, "I'll leave the house!" The poor Segovians, trained in a -different school, saw nothing incongruous in the representation of the -shepherds, and the wise men, and the cave of Bethlehem: and only one -comical incident occurred, when, on a child in the pit setting up a squeal, -there was a universal cry of _Where's Herod?_ At ten o'clock they left -their play, with its quiet and respectable little audience, and once more -found themselves tightly stowed in their diligence prison for the night. -The moon, however, was bright and beautiful, and enabled them to see the -royal hunting-box and woods, and the rest of the fine scenery through which -they passed, so that the journey was far less intolerable than usual, as is -often the case when a thing has been much dreaded beforehand. At four -o'clock in the morning they were turned out, shivering with cold, at a -wayside station, where they were to take the train to Avila; but were then -told, to their dismay, by a sleepy porter, that the six o'clock train had -been taken off, and that there would be none till ten the next morning, so -that all hopes of arriving at Avila in time for church (and this was -Sunday) were at an end. The station had no waiting-room, only a kind of -corridor with two hard benches. Establishing the children on these for the -moment with plaids and shawls, one of the party went off to some cottages -at a little distance off, and asked in one of them if there were no means -of getting a bedroom and some chocolate? A very civil woman got up and -volunteered both; so the tired ones of the party were able to lie down for -a few hours' rest in two wonderfully clean little rooms, while their -breakfast was preparing. The question now arose for the others: "Was there -no church anywhere near?" It was answered by the people of the place in the -negative. "The station was new; the cottages had been run up for the -accommodation of the porters and people engaged on the line; there was no -village within a league or two." Determined, however, not to be baffled, -one of the party inquired of another man, who was sleepily driving his -bullocks into a neighboring field, and he replied "that over the mountains -to the left there was a village and a curé; but that it was a long way off, -and that he only went on great "festas." It was now quite light; the lady -was strong and well; and so she determined to make the attempt to find the -church. Following the track pointed out to her by her informant, she came -to a wild and beautiful mountain path, intersected by bright rushing -streams, crossed by stepping stones, the ground perfectly carpeted with -wild narcissus and other spring flowers. Here and there she met a peasant -tending his flocks of goats, and always the courteous greeting of "Vaya -Usted con Dios!" or "Dios guarde á Usted!" as heartily given as returned. -At last, on rounding a corner of the mountain, she came on a beautiful -view, with the Escurial in the distance to the left; and to the right, -embosomed, as it were, in a little nest among the hills, a picturesque -village, with its church-tower and rushing stream and flowering -fruit-trees, toward which the path evidently led. This sight gave her fresh -courage; for the night journey and long walk, undertaken fasting, had -nearly spent her strength. Descending the hill rapidly, she reached the -village green just as the clock was striking six, and found a group of -peasants, both men and women, sitting on the steps of the picturesque stone -cross in the centre, opposite the church, waiting for the curé to come out -of his neat little house close by to say the first mass. The arrival of the -lady caused some astonishment; but, with the inborn courtesy of the people, -one after the other rose and came forward, not only to greet her, but to -offer her chocolate and bread. -{753} -She explained that she had come for communion, and would go into the -church. The old white-haired clerk ran into the house to hasten the curé, -and soon a kind and venerable old man made his appearance, and asked her if -she wished to see him first in the confessional. He could scarcely believe -she had been in Segovia only the night before! Finding that she was hurried -to return and catch the train, he instantly gave her both mass and -communion, and then sent his housekeeper to invite her to breakfast, as did -one after the other of the villagers. Escaping from their hospitality with -some difficulty, on the plea of the shortness of the time and the length of -the way back, the English lady accepted a little loaf, for which no sort of -payment would be heard of, and walked with a light heart back to the -station, feeling how close is the religious tie which binds Catholics -together as one family, and how beautiful is the hearty, simple hospitality -of the Spanish people when untainted by contact with modern innovations and -so-called progress. There was no occasion when this natural, high-bred -courtesy was not shown during the four months that our travellers spent in -this country; and those who, like the author of Over the Pyrenees into -Spain, find fault on every occasion with the manners of the people, must -either have been ignorant of their language and customs, or, having no -sympathy with their faith, have wounded their susceptibilities, and to a -certain degree justified the rudeness of which they pretend to have been -the victims. - ------- - - Original. - - Beams. - - "Why seest thou the mote in thy brother's eye, - but the beam that is in thine own eye - thou considerest not?" - - - Disciple. - - "How's this! And hath my brother ne'er a beam - That may be plucked from out his eye? - And are my brother's beams all motes, - And none have beams but I?" - - - Master. - - "E'en so, For beams enough there be, I trow; - And who will claim them, if not thou?" - - - Disciple. - - "'Tis well! I'll claim mine own. - (Methinks it has of late much larger grown.)" - - - Master. - - "Suffices it, if thou wilt claim but one. - Then shall thy brother, in thy sight, have none. - For beams do so prevent pride's selfish view - That, if thy brother's beam did weigh a ton, - It would appear the smallest mote to you." - ------- - -{754} - - Early Rising. [Footnote 251] - - [Footnote 251: This article is translated from the Conferences - Destinées aux Femmes du Monde, par Mgr. Landriot.] - - - "De Nocte Surrexit." - -Sleep was given man to sustain life, to invigorate his strength, and to -serve him as the best and most useful of medicines; one single prescription -perfectly accomplished sometimes sufficing for the cure of serious disease, -or, at least, the amelioration of violent pain. Sleep is the salutary bath -that renovates life, the entire being growing younger under its influence; -it is a station in the desert of this world; and often, after dull and -wearying journeys, one comes to repose in this oasis prepared by divine -Providence, enabled the next day to pursue the route with renewed courage -and activity. The time of sleep is not only useful to the body, but the -soul: it calms all agitation, spreads a balm over piercing grief, and -hinders the precipitation of words and actions. Thus the ancients -designated night the good counsellor; those even whom passion or bodily -infirmity keep awake are subservient to her designs, and, in the calm -which, through shade, she diffuses everywhere, she recalls man to better -sentiments. If he is Christian, she quickens within him the fibres of -prayer; a single aspiration toward heaven sufficing sometimes to crush the -bad or dangerous germs of thought, and prepare for the morrow a pure and -uncloudy sky. In other times, there was so much calmness and placidity in -the sleep of the just, said St. Ambrose, that it was like an ecstasy in -which, while the body reposed, the soul, to speak thus, was separated from -its organs, and united itself to Christ: Somnus tranquillitatem menti -invehens, placiditatem animae ut tanquam soluto nexu corporis se ablevit, -et Christo adhaereat. [Footnote 252] - - [Footnote 252: Ep. xvi. No. 4, p. 960.] - -Again, sleep is an excellent preacher, because it recalls to us the image -of death: the ancients named it the brother of death, and both are sons of -night. The daily arrival of sleep should make us say: "The other brother -will come soon, and this time I will extend myself on my bed, never more to -rise. Each visit of the night should be an invitation to prepare me for the -last and solemn departure." - -Sleep is, then, excellent in itself; but how greatly it may be abused; and, -if we do abuse it, it will produce effects exactly contrary to those I have -just enumerated; that is to say, it will weaken the body, stupefy the -ideas, and that, far from refreshing and repairing life, it will prepare -for it a kind of living sepulchre in which to bury it. - -It is not sufficient to determine the quantity of sleep, which should be -wisely regulated, without according or refusing too much to nature. We must -also calculate the quality of sleep. - -Now, according to general observation, the sleep from the real night to the -real morning, that is to say, which is taken in the interval of nine and -five or six o'clock, is the best, the most salutary, and the most favorable -to health. I do not say that it is absolutely necessary to sleep all the -time, I have indicated: this is merely the space designed to choose one's -hours of sleep. Let us willingly admit all the exceptions necessitated by -transitory relations; but, as a general thesis, it is better to retire -early and rise early in the morning. It is the best, the most favorable -time for the nocturnal bath we call sleep; the body better refreshes -itself, the repose is more conformable to the laws of nature; therefore is -it sweeter, at once lighter and more profound, and has not the heaviness -which indicates an abnormal condition. -{755} -Sleep, prolonged too much in the morning because it has been retarded at -night, has serious inconveniences. It communicates to the general system a -sickly languor which becomes the habitual condition of certain -temperaments. Life with them is a sort of perpetual convalescence, and -never do they enjoy the most precious gift of nature, a state of health, -truly and solidly established. See, on the contrary, these robust village -girls; at night at an early hour they demand of their beds the repose for -their tired members; in the morning they rise with the crow of the cock. In -winter, the fire is lighted at dawn of day on the domestic hearth; the -house-keeping is arranged, the order of the day disposed in advance, the -breakfast of the laborers is ready to be served, and the sun has not yet -appeared above the horizon. During the summer, these same children of the -village accompany the star of day in its matutinal march; their chests -dilate, and they strengthen themselves in breathing the fresh and perfumed -air shed with the rays of sun, and they seem to breathe life and health. -Later these same girls marry, and, if they are not imprudent, they may for -many years continue an existence made up of fruitful labor, and ornamented -sometimes with all the charms and freshness of a vigorous old age; for -their regimen is an excellent medicine which gives them a commission of -long life. - -But whence, on the contrary, comes that weakness of temperament so -observable in women of the world? It may be deduced from various causes, -but one of the principal is the mode of life too generally adopted, -especially in large cities. A part of the night is spent in _soirées_, -to finish only with longer _matinées_; a portion of the day is given -to sleep, and from this results a general debility of constitution, fatigue -of the nervous system, a numbness of the organs, and in all an habitual and -continual prostration. There may be exceptional temperaments that resist -these effects; but it is incontestable, in the eyes of an impartial -observer, that the loss of health, especially among women, is due in great -part to the life of excess I here mention. "Prolonged night watches," said -a learned man, "necessarily bring on a fatigue which bears on the brain and -on the digestive and respiratory organs. And fatigue of this nature, far -from favoring sleep, renders it incomplete and painful. From thence, in -great measure, comes this valetudinary state which we meet with so -habitually among the women of our cities; balls and _soirées_ ruin -their health in advance, and it is often on youth even, but still oftener -in ripe and old age, that the foolish and miserable dissipations of the -world leave their sad and fatal impress." [Footnote 253] - - [Footnote 253: Leçons de la Nature, nouvelle édition, par M. Desdouits, - 1. 3. 188e considér, t. iii. p. 125.] - -You would, then, condemn _soirées_? I pray you to remark that, if -there is something to condemn, it is not I who condemns them; these are -facts according to nature and the temperament of the human body. Is it not -true that the health of many women of the world is weakened? No one can -deny this. Is it not also true that one of the principal causes is the -world's manner of organizing social relations? It is a fact of which -science every day gives undeniable proof. I am far from condemning -_soirées_; and perhaps you have not forgotten that, in our reunions, I -applied myself some years ago to show you how religion was the friend of -honest pleasures and the demands of society; on condition that they should -be regulated by wisdom, and that the interests of both body and soul were -faithfully managed; for so greatly does Christianity respect our bodies -that we can sin in compromising one's health by serious imprudences. Merry -conversations in the evening have all sorts of advantages. They divert the -mind, refresh the body, bring hearts together, dissipate clouds, and bind -more closely the ties of family and friendships. In a certain degree, -pleasures are necessary to man. -{756} -I speak of innocent pleasures that virtue can admit, and those who -entertain some doubt in this respect can consult the writings of the -greatest theologians of the church, and especially St. Thomas. This great -doctor has on this point a clearness and precision, and at the same time a -reason and wisdom, at once full of reserve and condescension. The rule he -establishes is to use all pleasure with moderation, according to time, -place, and the circumstance of those with whom we live: _moderatè pro -loco, et tempore, et congruentiâ eorum quibus convivit, (temperatus.)_ -[Footnote 254] - - [Footnote 254: See in particular L'Ethique et La Somme.] - -"There are many people," said Fenélon, "who like to groan over everything, -and weary themselves continually by encouraging a disgust for all rational -amusement. For me, I avow I could not accommodate myself to such rigidity. -I like something more simple; and I believe that God himself likes it much -better. When diversion is innocent in itself, and is entered into according -to the rules of the state wherein Providence has placed us, then I believe -all required of us is to take part in it, as in God's sight and with -moderation. Manners more rigid and more reserved, less complaisant and less -open, only serve to give a false idea of piety to worldly people, who are -already sufficiently prejudiced against it, and who believe God is only -served through a sombre and mortified life." [Footnote 255] - - [Footnote 255: _Avis a une Personne de la Cour_. Manuel de Piété. - Ed. Dupanloup. ] - -We would wish, then, that Christian societies would adopt for their maxim -these beautiful words of St. Chrysostom: "Christians have the sense for -delicate pleasures, but decency should preside over all." It is impossible -to make more reasonable concessions to human nature, but is not religion -authorized, therefore, to show herself severe to all who exceed the bounds -of wisdom, conformity, and virtue, and even for all who compromise the -interests of health or fortune? Would it not be possible, to return to our -subject, to combine in our reunions of family and society everything for -the general good and the vigorous health of actual generations? Allowing -for exceptional circumstances, where one may be obliged to be up later, -would it not be possible to make _soirées_ shorter, rendering them, at -the same time, more agreeable and more frequent, more salutary and less -compromising to health? This is the problem I propose to solve; and is it -not a singular thing that here religion interposes to say to you, Think of -the interests of your bodies; you sin the same by seriously neglecting -them? "Hoc esset peccatum" said St. Thomas. This excess in the length of -_soirées_ comes to us from paganism. In the time of Seneca they -existed, and these are the terms which this philosopher used toward them: -"There are people who reverse the uses of day and night. Thus, nothing -looks more sad and broken-down than the appearance of such persons, who -are, so to say, dedicated to the night; their color is that of sick people, -they are pale and languishing, carrying a dead flesh in a living body. And -this is not the only evil: their minds are surrounded by shadows -apparently, benumbed, and inhabiting the clouds. Is it possible not to -deplore an irregularity which banishes the light of day, and passes life in -darkness and shade?" [Footnote 256] - - [Footnote 256: Epist. 122.] - -Sometimes I am asked, if religion were to command half the sacrifice that -the world demands if it ordered a part of every night spent in fatiguing -both body and soul, what would not be said against it? What anathemas, what -bitter reproaches! But the world speaks, and no one says anything; we are -enchanted, or, at least, appear so. St. Francis de Sales has given us, on -this subject, some reflections wherein the delicate point of a pleasant -malice is touched with superior reason, and I should reproach myself did I -not present them to you: "We have seen gentlemen and ladies pass not only -one night, but several in succession at play--worldly people said nothing, -friends gave themselves no trouble concerning them; but let us give one -hour to meditation, or rise a little earlier than usual to prepare for -communion, these same friends would run for the doctor to cure us of -jaundice or hypochondria. -{757} -We may occupy thirty nights in dancing, no one complains; but for the -single watch of Christmas night every one coughs, and cries next day with -the stomach-ache." - -The salutary regimen of retiring and rising early is very precious for the -soul, and the duties of life much better fulfilled. The soul is calmer at -night, calm as everything that is regular and not troubled and turned -topsy-turvy by the thousand preoccupations of a too worldly life. In the -evening, before going to sleep, we can fix our attention on ourselves, -analyze the day, its thoughts, desires, and actions, praise, blame, or -correct, and, as a skilful merchant, make an account of our losses and -gains. Do not imagine such a practice is confined to narrow minds; it is -the usage of reason and sound philosophy, as are all other practices of an -enlightened devotion. Pagans as well as Christians have given us a lesson -on this subject. Listen to Pythagoras: "Never allow sleep to close thine -eyes before having examined every action of the day. In what have I failed? -What have I done? What duty have I forgotten? Commence by the first of thy -actions, run over the others; in fine, reproach thyself with what thou hast -done ill, and rejoice in what thou hast done well." "What can be more -beautiful," said Seneca, "than this habit of inquiring into a whole day? -What sleep succeeds to such a review of one's actions! How calm, deep, and -free it is when the soul has received its share of praise or blame, and, -submitting to its own control, its own censure, it secretly tries its own -conduct! For me, I have taken this authority on myself, and every day I -cite myself to appear before the tribunal of my conscience. So soon as the -light has gone, I scan my day entirely, weigh anew my acts and my words, -dissemble nothing, and omit nothing." [Footnote 257] Adopt this habit, -everything in you will gain by it--reason and piety; a sweet serenity will -be diffused around your soul, and you will sleep in angelic peace _somnus -sanitatis in homine_. [Footnote 258] You have sometimes seen children -sleep. What calm! What sweetness of expression! What kindness of feature! -What living and silent rest! This will be the image of your sleep. - - [Footnote 257: Da la Colere, 1. 3. c. 36.] - - [Footnote 258: Ecclus. xxxi.] - -But--and now we touch a delicate point--it is the result of life's -organization that you ought to get up in the morning. I hear already a deep -sigh of fear from your trembling couch. First, then, let us understand the -value of the words, Get up in the morning. I do not exhort you to imitate a -very delicate lady, who said, during her sojourn at Vichy, "I commence my -day at four o'clock in the morning, in order that my body may not take off -too much from my soul." [Footnote 259] - - [Footnote 259: Lettres de Madame Swetchine. t. ii. p. 111.] - -I do not propose you this model, for I am very sure, if I opened a -register, I should find very few members for the confraternity of Madame -Swetchine. Let us leave, then, the value of the expression slightly -undecided. Get up in the morning; let it only be the earliest hour -possible, and this, perhaps may be too late. Once, however, the hour of -your rising determined, hold to it, with a firmness proportioned to the -difficulty of the step, and let the unfortunate bed shut up again the -magnetic fluid whereby one is drawn to it, I do not say in spite of one's -self, but with a sweetness of violence which nails one to the post. I avow -we are here in face of one of the most terrible of enemies, and this enemy -the pillow. When we want to leave it in the morning, it assumes the -artificial language of the siren, and caresses us with tender precaution. -It seems to say: Why do you leave me? are you not better here? what a sweet -temperature! what inappreciable well-being! don't you see it is too soon? -do you not feel your limbs too tired, and as yet enjoying a very incomplete -repose? -{758} -Touch your forehead and you will see you begin to have headache; a few -quarters of an hour more will dissipate it; to-morrow you will rise -earlier! Then it's so cold out of bed: why brave the inclemency of the -seasons? The day is long enough; you will have time enough for everything; -in truth, do not be so severe with yourself. After such eloquent language -the dear pillow extends its two arms to entangle you, and soon the victory -is consummated; true, it was easy, none are so happy as the vanquished; and -behold you fallen again and buried for several hours more. - -I speak very seriously in telling you that one of the most difficult -enemies to vanquish is this pillow of the morning; and there is but one way -to conquer it: it is a prompt and decisive blow, a military charge, a jump -out of bed: charge the enemy by a vigorous sally, and the victory is yours. -An old Capuchin said that, after long years of a religious life, what cost -him most was to rise at four o'clock in the morning. It is true there is a -sacrifice to make, a real sacrifice, incontestable; but here life is full -of sacrifices, and each one is followed by a sentiment of true happiness, -and each victory gives to man an astonishing power. When I see a person who -has the courage to get up in the morning, I have immediately a high opinion -of his firmness of character, and I say to myself: This person, when -occasion demands it, will know how to develop extraordinary energy; each -morning his nature is tempered again in the struggle against his pillow, -and this combat is often more difficult, especially on account of its -continuity, than that of the soldier on the field of battle. Besides, wait -as long as you will, even if you sleep until mid-day, you will have to make -a sacrifice on leaving your bed. Sometimes the more you think of it, the -sacrifice will be greater, and increased by the sad perspective of the -approaching effort; so with one minute of decision, prompt and generous, -all is over, and the enjoyment of the active day has commenced. Long -waiting in bed when one is awake makes serious detriment to the soul; the -whole being is softened, and plunged into a sort of reverie, more or less -sensual, which may lead to the brink of certain abysses. Take care, the -butterfly flutters on its golden wings, then goes to burn itself in the -light which shines for it so treacherously; image of those aerial -promenades where, by dint of approaching certain deceitful lights, one ends -by damaging the wings of the soul, or, at least, rubbing off the velvet nap -of a pure conscience. "It is dangerous," said St. Ambrose, "for the sun to -come and trouble with its indiscreet rays the dreams of a lazy mind in its -bed." [Footnote 260] - - [Footnote 260: In Ps. 118, s. 19, No. 22, t. ii. p. 1476.] - -The Italian poet, speaking of morning, says: "At the hour when one's mind -is greatest stranger to the flesh, and less near terrestrial thoughts, then -is it almost divine in its visions." [Footnote 261] - - [Footnote 261: Dante, Purgat. c. 9, v. 16-19.] - -Each day, after a good night, we can renew our souls with the wonders of a -beautiful spring morning; all is fresh in mind and body, all interior -faculties are warmed; life experiences a sort of need of expansion; all -thoughts, all desires seem to tremble with cheerfulness, as plants in a -celestial garden. If the sun of prayer arises on the horizon, all the germs -of good awake, develop, and mount up in proportion as the divine heat -becomes more intense. "The manna," said the prophet, "disappearing at the -dawn of day; was to show us, my God, that we must anticipate the rising of -the sun to receive thy most precious benedictions." [Footnote 262] - - [Footnote 262: Sap. xvi. 28.] - -There is something remarkable in our Lives of the Saints; morning prayer is -always specially mentioned: "My God," said the prophet "thou wilt favorably -hear my prayer in the morning." [Footnote 263] - - [Footnote 263: Ps. v. 4.] - -"I will present myself before thee in the morning, and will see thy glory." -[Footnote 264] - - [Footnote 264: Ps. v. 5.] - -"It is in the morning that my prayer will surprise thee." [Footnote 265] - - [Footnote 265: Ps. xxxvii. 14.] - -"In the morning thy mercy is shed on us abundantly." [Footnote 266] - - [Footnote 266: Ps. lxxxix. 14.] - -"Those who watch from the morning," said Wisdom, "will find me." -[Footnote 267] - - [Footnote 267: Prov. viii. 17.] - -{759} - -Our Lord himself is called "splendid star, star of the morning:" "_Ego -Stella splendida et matutina_." [Footnote 268] - - [Footnote 268: Apoc. xxii. 16.] - -In these continual repetitions I can only see a perfectly fixed and -stationary thought: the natural relation established by divine Providence, -and which she loves to preserve in a supernatural world. The morning is the -hour when life recommences on earth; the hour when everything is reborn, -solitude favoring the first leap of life, which retakes its course where -the dew is deposited, and gives fresh nourishment to the plant. It is also -the most delightful hour for the collection of thought, for the effusion of -the dew of souls. The sky is charged with rain that night has condensed; -the manna is everywhere, but it soon disappears; and, whilst indolence -loses its power of body and mind in the swaddling-clothes of sleep, the -active soul has laid in its provision of celestial nourishment, has -disposed its interior heaven for the entire day, has dissipated in advance -the shadows of the day, and established time's serenity until the next -sleep. One of the most precious and the sweetest hours of life is the hour -of morning prayer. I do not merely speak of vocal prayer; I wish to say the -prayer of union with God, the silence and the repose of the soul in God; I -wish to say this opening of the mouth of the soul which aspires to divine -milk, drinking in silence, light, and love, and hiding itself in the bosom -of that mother _par excellence_ we call God, and that so few -Christians understand. _Os meum aperui et attraxi spiritum_. [Footnote -269] If you only realized the gift of God we call the love of morning: -_Si scires donum Dei!_ [Footnote 270] - - [Footnote 269: Ps. cxviii. 181.] - - [Footnote 270: Joan. iv. 10.] - -..... - -There is a freshness in it, a suavity and an energy, which come directly -from God. Have you never been on the mountains in summer, at three o'clock -in the morning, when the first rays of the sun appear? How limpidly they -seem to come! They have not passed through other breasts; the purest -essence of the planet of day is ours, and thus we seem to realize our union -with God while most men are asleep. On these divine mountains the soul has -the first-fruits of celestial favors; she is penetrated with light, love, -and strength; a gentle intoxication for the day, which, far from weakening -the soul, gives firmness to our thoughts and actions, and sheds a perfume -of joy on all our works. Were there no other reasons for rising in the -morning, I would say to you, Disengage yourself from your pillow, the Lord -comes to visit you with choice favors; but the least delay will be proof of -your indifference, and you will force him to go further to seek souls more -worthy his benefits. There is no one who would refuse to rise early if each -morning a messenger were to tell him, A prince is come among you and waits -for you. Place your God in the place of your prince, and you will do well. -If you wish to accomplish some great work in your life, get up in the -morning. The morning hours are not so deranged, the calm of a sweet -solitude surrounds you, and you more readily expedite your affairs. You can -occupy yourself with business or the regulation of your household, with -your reading, your intellectual work if you love study, and the result in -some years of these extra hours will be incalculable. By rising two hours -earlier each day, you will have gained at the end of forty years, -twenty-nine thousand hours, that is more than seven years, and solely -counting the twelve working hours of the day. To increase one's life seven -years in forty is enormous, and what can be done during this continuous -time is almost incredible. Clement of Alexandria said, "Wrest from sleep -all of our lives we can." - -Sleep is truly a thief who ravishes our greatest treasures; a thief, too, -we cannot entirely chase away, but we can run him off the ground and hinder -his encroachments on our actual life. "We live but the half of our lives," -said Pliny the elder; "the other half is consumed in a state similar to -death,.... and still we do not count the infancy which knows nothing, or -the old age of imbecility." -{760} -Then have the courage to take something each day from this brother of -death, who thus divides our life in two, and for himself would reserve the -better part; let us give to nature what is necessary, but make no -concession to indolence. - -The most favorable time to commit this robbery is during the first hours of -the morning. "The quality of time is different at this hour," said Madame -Swetchine. - -One hour of the morning is worth two at night, because the mind in its -freshness is naturally more collected, its strength is not yet dispersed, -and it is not exhausted by the fatigue of the day. The morning hours -resemble, in the agility of the mind and the rejuvenated forces of the -soul, the first hour of the courser just placed in the carriage. So the -same author we love to cite advised early rising, cost what it might, "in -order to reserve some hours of the morning for entire solitude." "It is not -only," said one of her friends, "to consecrate to God the first hours of -the day that she commenced it so early, but to have also considerable time -to give to study." She said to me on that day, that the pleasure it gave -her only increased with years. "I am come to this," she said, "when I -approach my table to resume my labors, my heart beats with joy." [Footnote -271] - - [Footnote 271: Lettres, t. ii. p. 443.] - -She avowed, besides, that, deprived of these her accustomed hours, all the -rest of the day seemed pillaged. If you would not be pillaged, rise in the -morning; then you can do as you please, no one will come to disturb you, -you will consecrate the closest and best of your strength to the most -serious and truest duties of your existence; and, when the hour of pillage -comes, that is, the hour when you must cut your life in little pieces, to -dispense it in a thousand nothings more or less necessary, you will, at -least, have secured its better and most precious part. If you rise late, -your life will be a perpetual pillage, and whoever pleases will tear it in -shreds from you. - -Plato--if you will not consider pagan morality severe--Plato said -somewhere: "It is a shame for the mistress of a household to be awakened by -her servants; she should awaken them." [Footnote 272] - - [Footnote 272: Les Lois, 1-7, p. 808.] - -Such words may seem an exaggeration; but, if such were here the case, would -not everything go better in the interior of the family? Woman, as we have -said with the holy Scripture, is the sun of her household; but it should be -the sun which everywhere announces the awakening of nature. It mounts first -on the horizon, and soon everything rises in the universe, plants, animals, -and men. The sun is never awakened by his satellites; he himself gives the -signal. Let the strong woman do the same. _Sicut sol oriens in altissimis -Dei, sic mulieris bonae species in ornamentum domus ejus._[Footnote 273] - - [Footnote 273: Eccl. xxvi. 21.] - ------- - -{761} - - - The Wandering Jew. [Footnote 274] - - [Footnote 274: - Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. - By S. Baring Gould, M.A., London, - Oxford, and Cambridge, Rivingtons. 1866.] - - -There are certain popular fables which, in one shape or another, seem to -have wandered all over the world, and to have planted themselves, and -grown, and developed progeny in the folk-lore of nearly every nation. Of -all these none has been more generally a favorite than the fiction of Time -sparing in his flight some solitary human being, before whose eyes the -centuries unroll their mighty panorama; cities and nations rise, flourish, -and decay; changes pass over the face of nature herself; seas dry up and -rocks crumble to dust; while for one man only age brings no decay and life -seems to have no termination. The early Christian legends are full of such -stories. There are rumors of mysterious witnesses, hidden for ages from the -world's eyes, not dead but sleeping, who are to come forth in the last days -of time, and bear testimony against Antichrist; and one of these was -conjectured to be the apostle St. John, of whom our Lord said to St. Peter, -"If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?" So there was a -belief that the beloved disciple still slept at Ephesus, awaiting the -summons, and the earth above his breast heaved as he breathed. Joseph of -Arimathea, according to another beautiful legend, was rewarded for the last -tender offices which he performed for the dead Christ by perpetual life in -the blessed city of Sarras, where he drew divine nourishment from the holy -grail, that precious chalice which the Saviour used at the Last Supper, and -which caught the blood that trickled from his side upon the cross. The -poetical legend of the seven sleepers of Ephesus, who fled from the -persecution of Decius to a cavern on Mount Celion, and slept there three -hundred and sixty years, until God raised them up to confound a growing -heresy against the immortality of the soul; and the still more beautiful -story of the monk of Hildesheim, who, doubting how with God a thousand -years could be as yesterday, listened to the melody of a bird in the -greenwood during three minutes, and found that in those minutes three -hundred years had flown away, are familiar to all our readers. But pagan -literature also abounds in stories of miraculously long slumbers. The -beautiful shepherd Endymion was condemned by Jupiter to perpetual sleep in -a cavern of Mount Latmus; or, according to another form of the story, to a -slumber of fifty years, at the end of which time he was to arise. The giant -Enceladus was imprisoned under Mount Etna, and as often as he turned his -weary body, the whole island of Sicily was shaken to its foundations. The -epic poet Epimenides, while tending his sheep, retired one hot day into a -cavern, and slept there fifty-seven years. This reminds one of the tale of -Rip Van Winkle. The Emperor Frederic Barbarossa, so an old German fable -relates, is waiting with six of his knights in the heart of a mountain in -Thuringia, for the time to release Germany from bondage and raise it to the -first place among nations. When his great red beard has wound itself thrice -around the stone table at which he sits, he will awake and rush forth to do -his appointed work. So, too, it was believed that Charlemagne survived in -some mountain recess, and would appear again at the fulfilment of the days -of Antichrist to avenge the blood of the saints. -{762} -The British King Arthur, the Portuguese Don Sebastian, Ogier the Dane, and -the three Tells of Switzerland were expected by the superstitious peasantry -to reappear at some distant day and become the deliverers of their country; -and there are even some remote parts of France where a popular belief -survives that Napoleon Bonaparte is still living, and will put himself some -day at the head of another victorious host. Who of us is not familiar with -that pretty fairy tale of the sleeping beauty? - - "Year after year unto her feet, - She lying on her couch alone, - Across the purple coverlet - The maiden's jet-black hair has grown. - - ...... - - "She sleeps: her breathings are not heard - In palace chambers far apart. - The fragrant tresses are not stirred - That lie upon her charmed heart. - She sleeps: on either hand upswells - The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest; - She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells - A perfect form in perfect rest." - -And who of us in his childhood has not read with a delight which repeated -perusals could not satiate of the coming of the fairy prince, who was -fated, after a hundred years, to wake that sleeping palace into life, and -bear away the happy princess far across the hills, "in that new world which -is the old"? - - "And o'er the hills, and far away - Beyond their utmost purple rim, - Beyond the night, across the day, - Through all the world she followed him." - -These many stories are only the protean forms of one favorite popular -conception; the idea of one individual standing still, while the world -sweeps by, and either blest or curst with a perpetual renewal of youth, or -else awaking out of a sleep of centuries to find creation wearing a new -face and new generations acting out the great drama of history. The -different modifications of the story seem to derive their peculiar -character from the peculiarities of the time and country in which they -originate. The pagan tendency to personify all the phenomena of nature is -exemplified in the myth of Enceladus, under which were represented the -throes of Mount Etna. The wild, warlike, and semi-pagan spirit of Germany, -which peoples dark mountain recesses with mysterious forms, and fastens a -legend to each frowning crag and almost inaccessible fastness, finds apt -expression in the legend of the sleeping Barbarossa and his mailed -companions. And how beautifully the piety of the monkish chroniclers has -embellished the same fiction in the fables of the seven sleepers and the -monk of Hildesheim! In the former of these two stories, however, it is -worthy of remark that an actual fact has been blended with the fiction. The -seven sleepers are real historical personages, and their names are enrolled -in the list of canonized saints. They were martyrs whom the Emperor Decius -caused to be walled up alive in a cave, where many generations afterward -their relics were found; and this discovery of the relics has been -amplified into an actual resuscitation of the living men. The narrative in -this spurious form is given by Jacobus de Voragine in his Golden Legend, -and was made the subject of a poem by Goethe. The German poet adds that -there was a dog with the seven Christians, and that immediately after their -awakening, as soon as they had been seen by the king and people of Ephesus, -they disappeared for ever from the sight of man: - - "The most blessed angel Gabriel, - By the will of God Almighty, - Walling up the cave for ever, - Led them into paradise." - -The most remarkable of all the varieties of this fiction is the legend of -the Wandering Jew. Like the story of St. John's sleep at Ephesus, it seems -to be based upon a false interpretation of Scripture. "There are some of -them standing here," said our Lord, "who shall not taste death till they -see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom," (St. Matt. xvi. 28.) And it was -the old belief that this prophecy was being literally fulfilled in the -person of a Jew who was wandering over the face of the earth, and would -continue to wander until the day of judgment. -{763} -The earliest mention of this mythical person occurs in Matthew Paris's -Chronicle of English History, wherein he records that, in 1228, a certain -Archbishop of Greater Armenia visited the abbey of St. Albans, on a -pilgrimage to the shrines of the saints in England; and in the course of -conversation he was asked "whether he had ever seen or heard any thing of -Joseph, a man of whom there was much talk in the world, who, when our Lord -suffered, was present and spoke to him, and who is still alive in evidence -of the Christian faith; in reply to which, a knight in his retinue, who was -his interpreter, replied, speaking in French, 'My lord well knows that man, -and a little before he took his way to the western countries the said -Joseph ate at the table of my lord the Archbishop of Armenia, and he has -often seen and conversed with him.'" The archbishop went on to relate that, -when Jesus had been delivered up to the Jews and they were dragging him out -to be crucified, "Cartaphilus, a porter of the hall, in Pilate's service, -as Jesus was going out of the door, impiously struck him on the back with -his hand, and said in mockery, 'Go quicker, Jesus, go quicker, why do you -loiter?' And Jesus, looking back on him with a severe countenance, said to -him, 'I am going, and you shall wait till I return.' And according as our -Lord said this Cartaphilus is still awaiting his return. At the time of our -Lord's suffering he was thirty years old, and when he attains the age of a -hundred years he always returns to the same age as he was when our Lord -suffered. After Christ's death, when the Catholic faith gained ground, this -Cartaphilus was baptized by Ananias, (who also baptized the apostle Paul,) -and was called Joseph. He dwells in one or other divisions of Armenia, and -in divers eastern countries, passing his time among the bishops and other -prelates of the church; he is a man of holy conversation and religious; a -man of few words, and very circumspect in his behavior; for he does not -speak at all unless when questioned by the bishops and religious; and then -he relates the events of olden times, and speaks of things which occurred -at the suffering and resurrection of our Lord, and of the witnesses of the -resurrection, namely, of those who rose with Christ, and went into the holy -city, and appeared unto men. He also tells of the creed of the apostles, -and of their separation and preaching. And all this," added the archbishop, -(though we should think the statement rather superfluous,) "he relates -_without smiling or levity of conversation_, as one who is well -practised in sorrow and the fear of God, always looking forward with dread -to the coming of Jesus Christ, lest at the last judgment he should find him -in anger, whom, on his way to death, he had provoked to just vengeance." -There is something not easy to explain in this story. Matthew Paris was an -eye-witness of the events which he relates, so there can be little doubt -that the Armenian prelate or his interpreter did really tell some such -wondrous tale as this to the monks of St. Albans. Was it a pure invention? -Or did the interpreter, by a familiar species of embellishment, represent -his master as having seen the wandering Jew when he had only _heard_ -of him? Or had the archbishop been deceived by some impostor who had taken -advantage of the popularity of the legend to palm himself off upon the -credulous as its veritable hero? One thing at all events is clear from the -narrative of the monk of St. Albans; and that is, that the fable was by no -means a new one in his time, though he is the earliest known writer who has -handed it down to us. The Jew, according to this narrative, refused all -gifts that were offered him, being content with a little food and scanty -raiment; but with all his humble piety he seems to have cherished an odd -sort of pride; for it is related that "numbers came to him from different -parts of the world, enjoying his society and conversation, and to them, -_if they are men of authority_, he explains all doubts on the matters -on which he is questioned." - -{764} - -After the Armenian had visited the shrine of "St. Tumas de Kantorbire" in -England and "Monsigour St. Jake," whereby we suppose is meant Santiago de -Compostela in Spain, he went to Cologne to see the heads of the three -kings, and there he is reported, in a rhyming chronicle by Philip Mouskes, -afterward Bishop of Tournay, as repeating the story he had told at St. -Albans, but with very slight differences. - -There is no further mention of the Wandering Jew in literature for more -than two hundred and fifty years; but, in 1505, he turns up to some purpose -in Bohemia, where a poor weaver named Kokot was in great perplexity to find -a treasure that had been buried by his great-grandfather sixty years -before. The Jew had been present when the treasure was hid away, and he now -appeared opportunely to show the heir where to find it. He seemed at this -time to be about seventy years of age. About the same time we hear of him -in the East, where there was a tradition that he appeared to the Arabian -conqueror Fadhilah, and predicted the signs which were to precede the last -judgment. But this mysterious visitor, who is called Zerib Bar Elia, seems -to have been confounded in a curious way with the prophet Elijah. The most -circumstantial account of the undying one was given about the middle of the -sixteenth century by Dr. Paul von Eitzen, afterward Bishop of Schleswig, -who seems to have been thoroughly deceived by one of the many impostors who -arose during that century and the next, claiming to have been survivors of -the rabble who followed Jesus to Calvary. Dr. Von Eitzen's story is that, -being in church one Sunday in Hamburg, in the year 1547, "he observed a -tall man with his hair hanging over his shoulders, standing barefoot during -the sermon over against the pulpit, listening with deepest attention to the -discourse, and whenever the name of Jesus was mentioned bowing himself -profoundly and humbly, with sighs and beating of the breast. He had no -other clothing in the bitter cold of the winter, except a pair of hose -which were in tatters about his feet, and a coat with a girdle which -reached to his feet; and his general appearance was that of a man of fifty -years." The learned doctor was so much struck by the man's looks that after -the sermon he made inquiries about him. He found that he was a mystery to -everybody. Many people, some of them of high degree and title, had seen him -in England, Scotland, France, Italy, Spain, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, -Hungary, Russia, Persia, and other countries, and nobody knew what to make -of him. So Dr. Von Eitzen sought him out and questioned him. "Thereupon he -replied modestly that he was a Jew by birth, a native of Jerusalem, by name -Ahasuerus, by trade a shoemaker; he had been present at the crucifixion of -Christ, and had lived ever since, travelling through various lands and -cities, the which he substantiated by accounts he gave; he related also the -circumstances of Christ's transference from Pilate to Herod, and the final -crucifixion, together with other details not recorded in the evangelists -and historians; he gave accounts of the changes of government in many -countries, especially of the East, through several centuries, and moreover -he detailed the labors and deaths of the holy apostles of Christ most -circumstantially." The stranger added that he had done his best with others -to have Christ put to death, and that, when sentence had been pronounced, -he ran home and called his family together that they might look at the -deceiver of the people as he was carried to execution. When the Lord was -led by to Calvary, he was standing at the door of his shop with his little -child on his arm. Spent with the weight of the cross which he was carrying, -Christ tried to rest a little, but Ahasuerus, for the sake of obtaining -credit among the other Jews, and also out of zeal and rage, drove the Lord -forward and bade him hasten. "Jesus, obeying, looked at him and said, 'I -shall stand and rest, but thou shalt go till the last day.' -{765} -At these words the man set down the child, and, unable to remain where he -was, he followed Christ, and saw how cruelly he was crucified, how he -suffered, how he died. As soon as this had taken place, it came upon him -suddenly that he could no more return to Jerusalem, nor see again his wife -and child, but must go forth into foreign lands, one after another, like a -mournful pilgrim. Now, when, years after, he returned to Jerusalem, he -found it ruined and utterly razed, so that not one stone was left standing -on another; and he could not recognize former localities. - -..... - -Dr. Paul von Eitzen, along with the rector of the school of Hamburg, who -was well read in history and a traveller, questioned him about events which -had taken place in the East since the death of Christ, and he was able to -give them much information on many ancient matters; so that it was -impossible not to be convinced of the truth of his story, and to see that -what seems impossible with men is, after all, possible with God." It does -not seem to have required Dr. Von Eitzen's investigation to prove that what -is impossible with man may be possible with God; but how any amount of -questioning could demonstrate the truth of the stranger's story we are at a -loss to see. It apparently failed to strike the reverend doctor and his -associate that the Jew could have learned the history of the East as easily -as they learned it themselves; and even if he made a good many blunders in -his narrative, it is by no means certain that his questioners were wise -enough to detect them. - -This impostor, for so we may safely call him, observed the traditional -silence, modesty, temperance, and poverty which the legend uniformly -ascribes to the Wandering Jew, never accepting a larger alms than two -skillings, (about nine cents,) which he immediately gave to the poor; never -laughing; gladly listening to pious discourse; reverencing with sighs the -utterance of the divine name; and waxing very indignant whenever he heard -any one swear, especially by God's death or pains. He spoke the language of -whatever country he travelled in, and had no foreign accent; so at least -the account runs, but it does not appear how that fact was ascertained, nor -is there mention of any competent linguist having examined his abilities in -that line. He never staid long in one place. - -Twenty-eight years afterward, that is, in 1575, two legates sent from -Schleswig to the court of Spain declared on their return home that they had -encountered the same mysterious person in Madrid, and conversed with him. -In appearance, manner of life, habits, and garb, he was just the same as he -had appeared in Hamburg. He spoke good Spanish. It is not said, however, -that these legates had themselves seen the man when Dr. Von Eitzen talked -with him twenty-eight years before, and the probability is, that they only -inferred from the description left of that strange traveller that the -wanderer in Madrid was the same person. In 1599, he is reported at Vienna; -in 1601, at Lubeck; and about the same date at Revel in Livonia, and Cracow -in Poland. He was also seen in Moscow, and in January, 1603, we find record -again of his appearance at Lubeck. The next year he was in Paris. Rudolph -Botoreus, who records his visit to that city in his history, apologizes for -mentioning what may seem a mere old wives' fable, but says the story was so -widely believed that he could not omit it. Bulenger, about the same date, -also mentions the report of the Jew's arrival in Paris, but confesses that -he neither saw him nor could hear anything authentic concerning him. - -The frequency of the reappearance of this mythical character in different -parts of Europe during the seventeenth century seems to indicate that the -imposture was a profitable one. He assumes different names and tells his -story with several variations. In one work he is called Buttadaeus. -Elsewhere he is known as Isaac Laquedem. -{766} -In some accounts it is said that he was born of the tribe of Napluali, -seven or eight years before the birth of Christ. He ran away from his -father, who was either a carpenter or a shoemaker, to accompany the three -wise men to Bethlehem; and his description on his return of the wonders he -had seen and the rich presents which the magi laid at the feet of the babe -whom they hailed King of the Jews, led to the massacre of the innocents. He -was, according to this version, a carpenter by trade, and made the cross -upon which the Lord suffered. At the end of every hundred years he falls -into a fit or trance, from which he awakes with renewed youth, returning -always to the age at which he was when the Saviour was crucified. He has -tempted death in every conceivable form; he has courted pestilence, thrown -himself into the thickest of battles, and called upon the sea to swallow -him; but a miraculous interposition of divine power preserves him through -everything, and the curse still drives him on from land to land, and will -allow him no rest until the crucified Son of Man shall come in his glory to -judge the world. Penitent and devout, yet tortured with remorse, he sweeps -on perpetually round and round the world, and the sudden roar of a gale at -night is attributed by the vulgar to the passing of the everlasting Jew. -There is a Swiss story that he was seen one day standing on the Matterberg -contemplating the scene with mingled awe and wonder. Once before he stood -on that desolate spot, and then it was the site of a flourishing city. Once -again he will revisit it, and that will be on the eve of judgment. - -So late as the beginning of the last century a man calling himself the -Wandering Jew made considerable noise in England, where many of the common -people were found ignorant enough to believe in him. Following the custom -of some of his early predecessors, he preferred the conversation of persons -of distinction, and spared no pains to thrust himself into aristocratic -company. Some of the nobility, half in jest, half out of curiosity, were -wont to talk with him, and pay him as they might a mountebank. He used to -say that he had been an officer of the sanhedrim, and that he had struck -Christ as he was led away from Pilate's judgment seat. He remembered all -the apostles, in proof of which he used to give what purported to be a -description of their appearance, dress, and peculiarities; he had been -acquainted with the father of Mohammed, and had disputed with the prophet -himself about the crucifixion of Christ; he knew Saladin, Tamerlane, and -Bajazet; he was in Rome when Nero set it on fire, and he remembered -minutely the history of the crusades. He spoke many languages, and even -conversed with an English nobleman in Arabic. Oxford and Cambridge sent -professors to discover whether he was an impostor. It does not appear that -he shrank from their examination, for it is pretty certain that he had been -a great traveller, and it is not at all improbable that he was well enough -read in history to perplex his questioners. On matters of detail it was -easy enough for him to impugn the accuracy of authorities which -contradicted him. Educated persons were not long in learning to laugh at -his assumptions, but the vulgar trusted him, and even believed in his power -of healing the sick. We are not aware that the humbug was ever thoroughly -exposed to the satisfaction of the people at large, and when he afterward -passed over to Denmark and Sweden he left probably a plenty of dupes behind -him. The last recorded appearance of a person claiming to be the Wandering -Jew was in 1774 at Brussels. - -It would be a curious and interesting study to trace, if we could, the -origin of this myth, but it is a baffling inquiry. Its kinship with the -stories of long slumbers, marvellous resuscitations, and miraculous -prolongation of life is sufficiently apparent, yet it presents remarkable -differences from all these, and it is noteworthy that, during the five -centuries and more in which we know that it flourished, it underwent no -considerable modifications, such as popular legends in general are subject -to. -{767} -When we first hear of it, it is already wide spread and as completely -developed as it was when it finally dropped out of popular belief. And, as -our readers can see from the narratives we have quoted, there never was -even plausible reason to believe that the story was true. None of the -testimony as to the Jew's appearances will bear the very slightest -examination. Either the stories are manifest fabrications, or the persons -to whom they refer were merely ordinary vagabonds. No vagabond, however, -could have established such pretensions unless there had previously been -some legend in vogue to suggest them and to induce people to accept them. -Some have imagined that Ahasuerus is a type of the whole Jewish race, -which, since it rejected the Redeemer, has been driven forth to wander over -the face of the earth, yet is not to pass away until the end of time. This, -however, can hardly be; for Ahasuerus becomes a devout Christian, and, -moreover, one of his principal characteristics is contempt of money. Others -identify him with the gypsies, who are said to have been cursed in a -similar way because they refused shelter to the Virgin and child during the -flight into Egypt; but this is only a local superstition which never -obtained extensive acceptation. The more probable explanation is, that some -pious monk borrowed one of the old legends which we referred to at the -beginning of this article, and adding to it a conception taken from the -words of the Saviour, "There are some of them standing here who shall not -taste death till they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom," -constructed an allegory which was afterward accepted for literal truth in a -not very critical age, and was kept alive by a succession of impostors. - - ------- - -{768} - - Original. - - "Abide In Me." - - "I am the vine, you the branches." - - - "I AM the Vine." - "'Tis true, dear Lord, and yet the fruit, - And cool, green leaves that cast the grateful shade, - Are mine." - "Fie, silly branch! Without a root - Deep hidden in the lowly earth, - Thy fruit or leaves would ne'er had birth. - How quickly would thy coronal of leaves, - Which now from men such flattery receives, - Lose all its glory in their sight, and fade - And die; - Thy fruit for tastelessness be spurned; - Thyself be cast into the fire and burned, - If I - Who am, of all thou hast, the source, - Did not with living sap the force - Supply." - "Lord! pardon me my foolish pride; - Too much in my own strength I do confide. - Decree - That henceforth I shall bare and barren be, - If I give not all glory unto thee; - And chide - My wayward spirit when it turns aside, - And thinks to live and flourish, and yet not abide - In thee." - - ------- - - Abridged from The Dublin University Magazine. - - The Invasions Of Ireland By The Danes. - - -A knowledge of history is considered an essential portion of the mental -acquirements of every gentleman and lady, but it is for the most part a -disagreeable, and, in many respects, a slightly immoral study, if we apply -the same criterion to it which we do to its relative, romance. Moral -lecturers on fiction instruct us that any novel or romance which centres -its chief interest in wicked men or women, and devotes the greater portion -of its pages to their proceedings, is an immoral, or, at least, an -unedifying book. We need not waste pages or lines here in pointing out what -sort of designs or deeds enter into the tissue of historical narrative, but -as (the above reasoning notwithstanding) history is, and will continue to -be, a popular and engrossing study, it is of importance that we be -acquainted with the true nature of past events. - - - Desiderata for a Good Irish History. - -With regard to our own country we have not in this case been well favored. -Those histories which have appeared in print rest for their authority on -hitherto inedited MSS., many portions which are of a legendary and romantic -character. It is evident that it is only when all these MS. chronicles, -that are worth the trouble and expense, are published and compared with -each other and with foreign contemporary history, we can arrive with any -certainty at the truth or probability of past events, the existence or -otherwise of some semi-mythic heroes, or truthful chronological -arrangement. - -For the coming history of Ireland we are thankful that preparations have -been making. We have had Keating's history badly translated for three -half-centuries. He compiled it in the seventeenth century from MS. -documents, some of which are unhappily not now in existence. Dr. O'Connor -was enabled, through the munificence of the Duke of Buckingham, to get into -print, accompanied by a Latin translation, the Annals of Tighernach, a monk -of Clonmacnois, in the eleventh century, and a portion of the Annals of -Ulster, but these books are nearly as inaccessible as the original MSS. -{769} -The Annals of the Four Masters, (the O'Clerys of Donegal Abbey, early part -of the seventeenth century,) edited by the late Dr. O'Donovan, have been -issued in a costly style by the firm of Hodges & Smith. For about a quarter -of a century our Archaeological and Celtic Societies have been publishing, -with translations, papers of great value, and at last, though at the -eleventh hour, government has lent a hand in bringing before the public -valuable materials for the future historian of Ireland. These consist of a -portion of the ancient Irish code: the Senchus Mhor, the Chronicum -Scotorum, edited by Mr. Hennessy, and the Wars of the Gael with the -Foreigners, [Footnote 275] (with translation,) edited by Rev. Dr. Todd. -This, we trust, is only an earnest of what government means to do. We hope -to see in succession the Annals of Tighernach, of Lough Cé, of Ulster, -[Footnote 276] and others issued at the moderate price adopted. - - [Footnote 275: The War of the Gaedhill with the Gaill; or The Invasions - of Ireland by the Danes and other Norsemen. The Original Irish Text, - edited with Translation and Introduction by James Henthorn Todd, D.D., - A.B., M.R.I.A., F.S.A., Senior Fellow T.C.D. Published by the Authority - of the Lords Commissioners of Her Majesty's Treasury, under the - Direction of the Master of the Rolls. London: Longmans & Co.] - - [Footnote 276: Tiernach O'Braoin, Abbot of Clonmacnois, died in 1088. - The Annals that bear his name are continued to the fourteenth century. - They exhibit great conscientiousness on the part of the writer, who - never gives way to Bardic enthusiasm. The other chief books are the - Annals of Inisfallen, probably begun by Maol Suthain O'Carroll, - secretary to Brian Borumha, the Annals of Boyle, the Annals of Ulster, - compiled by Charles Maguire, a learned ecclesiastic at the Isle of - Shanat, in Lough Erne. His death occurred in 1493. The Annals begin at - A.D. 441 and are continued to 1541. The Annals of Loch Cé, compiled by - Brian MacDermot, relate events from the battle of Clontarf to 1590. The - Annals of Connacht include all that passed from 1224 to 1562. The - Annals of Clonmacnois were translated from the Gaelic into English in - 1627, by Connia Mac Egan; the original is not extant.] - -The deeply read and zealous editor of the work just quoted below would -prefer to have been exercised on some of the others. We quote his own -words: - - "The editor cannot but regret that this tract, so full of the feelings of - clanship,... should have been selected as the first specimen of an Irish - chronicle, presented to the public under the sanction of the Master of - the Rolls. His own wish and recommendation to his Honor was, that the - purely historical chronicles, such as the Annals of Tighernach, the - Annals of Ulster, or the Annals of Loch Cé, should have been first - undertaken. The two former compilations, it is true, had been already - printed [Footnote 277], although with bad translations and wretchedly - erroneous topography; and a rule which at that time existed prohibited - the Master of the Rolls from publishing any work which, even in part, had - been printed before. This rule has since been judiciously rescinded, and - it is hoped that his lordship will soon be induced to sanction a series - of the chronicles of Ireland, especially the two just alluded to, which, - it is not too much to say, are to the history of Ireland and of Scotland - what the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is to that of England. The Annals of Loch - Cé (pr. Kay) belong to a later period. They begin with the battle of - Clontarf, and continue the history, with some few gaps, to 1590." - - [Footnote 277: The Annals of Ulster are given only to the year 1131. - The Dublin MS. extends to 1503. The Chronicum Scotorum is not here - mentioned, because it is already on the list of the Master of the - Rolls, edited by Mr. W. M. Hennessy.--_Note by Rev. Dr. Todd._] - -Nothing can be more to the purpose or better worthy of attention than the -sequel of this passage. - - "Until these and other sources of history are made accessible, it is vain - to expect any sober or trustworthy history of Ireland. The old romantic - notions of a golden age, so attractive to some minds, must continue to - prevail.... - - "The authors of our popular histories were avowedly ignorant, with - scarcely an exception, of the ancient language of Ireland--the language - in which the real sources of Irish history are written. It was as if the - authors of the history of Rome had been all ignorant of Latin, and the - writers of our histories of Greece unable to read Greek. Even this would - not, however, fully represent the real state of the case as regards - Ireland. Livy and Tacitus, Herodotus and Thucydides, are printed books, - and good translations of them exist. But the authorities of Irish history - are still for the most part in manuscript, and unpublished, untranslated, - and scattered in the public libraries in Dublin, Oxford, and London, as - well as on the continent of Europe, Hence our popular histories leave us - completely in the dark, and often contain erroneous information. Wherever - the Irish names of places or persons are concerned they are at fault. - They are entirely silent on the genealogies, relationships, and laws of - the clans and their chieftains a subject so essential, to the right - understanding of Irish history." - -{770} - -The most popular of our histories is that translated from the Irish of the -learned Dr. Geoffry Keating, by Dermod O'Connor, and first published, -Westminster, 1726. It was but indifferently done. Dr. Todd gives a decided -preference to that lately executed by O'Mahony, and published in America. -Dr. Todd gives his readers the pleasant information that two perfect copies -of the original Irish, executed by John Torna O'Mulconry, a contemporary of -Dr. Keating, are preserved in the library of Trinity College, Dublin. - - - The Mss. Of Our Danish Chronicle. - -The narrative in the work under notice embraces two centuries, ending with -the battle of Clontarf, A.D. 1014. Of the two hundred pages devoted to the -subject, the wars waged by Mahon of Thomond and his younger brother, Brian -Borumha, occupy a hundred and fifty. The fact is accounted for by giving -the authorship to Mac Liag, Brian's chief bard, or some other devoted filea -or seanachie of his house, who survived the great day at Clontarf. The -learned editor furnishes ample accounts of the MSS. used in the work, and -we proceed to make use of them for the information of our readers. A very -small portion of it, to wit, one leaf, folio size, closely written on both -sides in double columns, is preserved in the Book of Leinster. [Footnote -278] The contents of this leaf are given in the appendix. - - [Footnote 278: The Book of Leinster was written by Finn, Bishop of - Kildare, for Hugh MacGriffin, tutor of that antetype of Henry VIII., - namely, Diarmuid MacMurroch It is a collection of narratives, tales, - genealogies, and poems; some of these last attributed to Fionn - MacCumball and his son Oisin. The death of its compiler in 1160 is - noticed in the Annals of the Four Masters, under the date A.D. 1160.] - -The second MS., also defective, is preserved in the library of Trinity -College. We copy Dr. Todd's reference to it: - - "This copy was found about the year 1840, by the late eminent scholar, - Mr. O'Curry, bound up in one of the Seabright MSS., formerly in the - possession of the celebrated antiquary, Edward Lluyd. There is nothing - except the appearance of the MS., and its handwriting, to fix its age, - but, judging from these criteria, we cannot be far wrong in supposing it - to have been written about the middle of the fourteenth century. It is - imperfect both at the beginning and at the end.... There are also some - intervening defects, arising from a loss of leaves." - -The MS. in which the valuable fragment is preserved is marked H, 2, 17. - - "The third MS. is a paper copy preserved in the Burgundian library, - Brussels, which has the advantage of being perfect. It is in the - handwriting of the eminent Irish scholar, Friar Michael O'Clery, by whom - it was transcribed in the year 1635. This appears by the following note - at the end: - - "'Out of the Book of Cueonnacht O'Daly, the poor friar, Michael - O'Clery, wrote the copy from which this was written, in the convent of - the friars in Baile Tighe, Farannain, (Multifarnham,) in the month of - March of this year, 1628, and this (the present) copy was written by - the same friar in the convent of Dun-na-n Gail, (Donegal,) in the month - of November of this year, 1635.'" - -The learned friar copied or introduced into his history catalogues and -poems not to be found in the Dublin MS., and there are passages in the last -not to be found in the Brussels copy. The chronicle now printed is, of -course, the more copious, as it contains everything to be found in either. - -It was not till some time after the discovery of the Dublin MS., by Mr. -O'Curry, as recorded, that the existence of the Brussels copy became known. -Dr. Todd proceeded to that city in August, 1848, and copied all the -portions not to be found in the one at home. Afterward, as he observes: - - "Through the influence of the Earl of Clarendon, then Lord Lieutenant of - Ireland, he obtained from the Belgian government a loan of this and some - other MSS., and in 1833 caused a complete copy of it to be made by Mr. - O'Curry, for the library of Trinity College, Dublin. These transcripts - have been carefully collated in forming the text of the present edition." - - - Who Wrote The Chronicle? - -The authorship of the work is attributed to Muriertach Mac Liag, the chief -bard of King Brian, but no sure conclusion can be come to on this point. -{771} -It is certain, however, that it is the production of a zealous Dalcassian, -and that it was composed soon after the battle of Clontarf. We copy the -curious circumstance which proves to certainty that the original compiler -was contemporary with the concluding event of the narrative: - - "It is stated in the account given of the battle of Clontarf, that the - full tide in Dublin Bay on the day of the battle, 23d April, 1014, - coincided with sunrise, and that the returning tide at evening aided - considerably in the defeat of the enemy. - - "It occurred to the editor, on considering this passage, that a criterion - might be derived from it to test the truth of the narrative, and of the - date assigned by the Irish to the battle of Clontarf. He, therefore, - proposed to the Rev. Samuel Haughton, M.D., Fellow of Trinity College, - and Professor of Geology in the University of Dublin, to solve for him - this problem: 'What was the hour of high-water at the shore of Clontarf - in Dublin Bay on the 23d April, 1014?' The editor did not make known to - Dr. Haughton the object he had in view in this question, and the - coincidence of the results obtained with the ancient narrative is - therefore the more valuable and curious." - -The result of Dr. Haughton's calculations, communicated to the Royal Irish -Academy in May, 1861, was this: - - "The tide along the Clontarf shore, when not obstructed by embankments - and walls, could not have differed many minutes, on the 23d April, 1014, - from 5 hours 30 minutes A.M., the evening tide being full in at 5 hours - 55 minutes P.M. - - "This proves that the author, if not himself an eye-witness, must have - derived his information from those who were. 'None others,' as Dr. - Haughton observes, 'could have invented the fact that the battle began at - sunrise, and that the tide was then full in.' The importance of the time - of tide became evident at the close of the day, when the returned tide - prevented the escape of the Danes from the Clontarf shore to the north - bank of the Liffey." - -In the chronicle the author makes a distinction between races of the -invaders, namely, the dark-haired Danes and the fair-haired Norwegians. The -word Lochlann (lake land) is applicable to Norway with its numerous fiords, -to which the ancient Irish writers applied the name of lochs. The epithet -_gormglasa_ (bluish green) was probably applied to the plate armor -worn by some of them. - - - Style and Spirit of the Work. - -The following passage will furnish a fair specimen of the style of the -chronicle, besides exhibiting the misery of a country divided into small -kingdoms when a ferocious band of foreigners chose to make a lodgment in -it: - - "In a word, although there were an hundred hard-steeled iron heads on one - neck, and an hundred sharp, ready, cool, never-resting, brazen tongues in - each head, and an hundred garrulous, loud, unceasing voices from each - tongue, they could not recount, nor enumerate, nor tell what all the - Gaedhil suffered in common, both men and women, laity and clergy, old and - young, noble and ignoble, of hardship, and of injury, and oppression in - every house from these valiant, foreign, purely pagan people. Even though - great were this cruelty, and oppression, and tyranny--though numerous - were the oft-victorious clans of the many-familied Erinn--though numerous - their kings, and their royal chiefs, and their princes--though numerous - their heroes, and champions, and their brave soldiers, their chiefs of - valor and renown, and deeds of arms--yet not one of them was able to give - relief, or alleviation, or deliverance from that oppression and tyranny, - from the numbers, and the multitudes, and the cruelty, and the wrath of - the brutal, ferocious, furious, untamed, implacable hordes by whom that - oppression was inflicted, because of the excellence of their polished, - ample, treble, heavy, trusty, glittering corselets, and their hard, - strong, valiant swords, and their well-riveted long spears, and their - ready, brilliant arms of valor besides, and because of the greatness of - their achievements and of their deeds, their bravery and their valor, - their strength, and their venom, and their ferocity, and because of the - excess of their thirst and their hunger for the brave, fruitful, nobly - inhabited, full of cataracts, rivers, bays, pure, smooth-planed, sweet, - grassy land of Erinn." - -Little can the mere English reader, who may look on much of this as mere -bombast, feel the charm which such substantives and epithets as the -following had on the original hearers or readers of the work: "Luireach, -lainndearda, luchtmara, tredualach, trom, trebhraid, taitnemach," (Loricas, -polished, ample, treble, etc.) - -{772} - - Causes of the Invaders' Success. - -The editor, alluding to the defeats suffered by the Irish forces on many -occasions, finds no great difficulty in accounting for them, and this -without the slightest reflection on their innate courage or skill in the -use of their arms: - - "The whole body of the clan were summoned to decide upon the question of - war or peace. Every petty chieftain of every minor tribe, if not every - individual clansman, had a voice not only in this primary question, but - also, when the war was declared, in the questions arising upon subsequent - military operations... The kings or chieftains were themselves chosen by - the clan, although the choice was limited to those who possessed a sort - of hereditary right, often complicated by a comparison of the personal - merits of the rival claimants. - - "The army was a rope of sand. It consisted of a number of minor clans, - each commanded by its own petty chieftain, receiving no pay, and bound by - no oath of allegiance to the king or chief commander. Each clan, no - doubt, adhered with unshaken fidelity to its own immediate chieftain, but - he on the smallest offence could dismiss his followers to their homes - even at the very eve of a decisive battle.... These facts must be borne - in mind if we would rightly understand the inherent weakness of warfare - in ancient Ireland." - -Thus many of the faults we choose to impute to our ancestors and their -supposed natural propensities should be rather imputed to the circumstances -in which they were placed than to themselves. A tribe could not reckon upon -a continuance of peace with neighbors or strangers for a single week. A -chief enjoying the strength, and courage, and wisdom of manhood was -essential to their well-being, almost to their existence. The heir-apparent -of the chief for the time might be a child or an incompetent youth. In this -case it was but sound policy to elect during the chief's life his brother -or other near relative to assume the command immediately on his decease. -This was done, the election being restricted to the Duine Uasals -(gentlemen) of the tribe. The scrutiny might be distinguished on occasions -by the usual disagreeables of an election, but it prevented the -inconveniences of an interregnum. - - - The Danish Proceedings Before Brian's Time. - -The mere Irish were never much benefited by the nominal capital of their -country. The Norwegians, getting it into their possession in 836 or 838, -built a fortress there in 842, and the Danes, after a preliminary visit in -851, returned for reënforcements, and their king, Olaf the White, was -recognized as supreme chief of all the foreigners in Ireland in 856, and -made Dublin his headquarters. - -There was a comparative rest from foreign invasions for about forty years, -but Ireland's troubles began to thicken in the early part of the tenth -century. Crowds of foreigners assembled, and the brave King of Ireland, -Nial of the Black Knee, collected all the forces he could from Meath and -the North, and attacked their united strength at Kilmashogue in the -mountains beyond Rathfarnham. But the foreigners much outnumbered the -natives, and the heroic king with twelve petty princes perished in the -battle. - -The ferocious invaders did not confine their attentions to Dublin and the -north; they ravaged the pleasant south country, and feelingly does the -chronicler describe the hellish mischief they committed. Overcome by his -subjects, he sometimes even neglects his darling alliteration: - - "They rent her (Erinn's) shrines, and her reliquaries, and her books. - They demolished her beautiful, ornamented temples; for neither - veneration, nor honor, nor mercy for Termonn, [Footnote 279] nor - protection for church or for sanctuary, for God or for man, was felt by - this furious, ferocious, pagan, ruthless, wrathful people. In short, - until the sand of the sea, or the grass of the field, or the stars of - heaven be counted, it will not be easy to recount, or to enumerate, or to - relate what the Gaedhil, all without distinction, suffered from them. ... - Alas! many and frequent were the bright and brilliant eyes that were - suffused with tears, and dimmed with grief and despair at the separation - of son from father, and daughter from mother, and brother from brother, - and relatives from their race and from their tribe." - - [Footnote 279: Church lands having the privilege of sanctuary.] - - -{773} - -One of the most terrible of these southern descents was that made by -Imar--son of Imar (Ivar) and his three sons Dubhceann, and Cu-Allaidh, and -Aralt, (Black Head,) and Wild Dog, (Wolf,) and Harold. These worthies took -possession of Limerick, and high and haughty were their proceedings. - - "Such was the oppressiveness of the tribute and rent of the foreigners at - large and generally, that there was a king from them over every - territory, and a chief over every chieftainry, and an abbot over every - church, and a steward over every village, and a soldier in every house, - so that none of the men of Erinn had power to give the milk of his cow, - nor so much as the clutch of eggs of one hen, in succor or in kindness to - an aged man or to a friend, but was forced to preserve them for the - foreign steward, or bailiff, or soldier. And though there were but one - milk-giving cow in the house, she durst not be milked for an infant of - one night, nor for a sick person, but must be kept for the steward, or - bailiff, or soldier of the foreigners. And however long he might be from - the house, his share or his supply durst not be lessened. And although - there was in the house but one cow, it must be killed for the meal of one - night, if the means of a supply could not be otherwise procured.... And - an ounce of silver Findrunl was paid for every nose besides the royal - tribute every year. And he who had not the means of paying it, had - himself to go into slavery for it." - -The alternative was the loss of the organ just mentioned. - - - Brian's Early Struggles. - -But we have got to the tenth century, and the two youthful brothers -destined to give a disabling blow to Danish tyranny are learning the -profession of arms in their father's fortress in Thomond, (_Tuaith -Muimhain_, North Munster.) These were Mathgamhain [Footnote 280] and -Brian, sons of Cennedigh, (Kennedy,) chief of the tribe of Dal-Cais. - - [Footnote 280: However the people of the tenth century pronounced this - word, modern scholars are content to sound it Mahoun. - - An old Munster king, Oilliol Oiuim, appointed in his will that the - descendants of his two sons, Eogan and Cormac Oas, should sway the - sceptre of the south in alternate succession. A very unwise proceeding, - as future events proved.] - -The first naming of these princes in the chronicle brings out an -alliterative and patriotic glow on the pen of the enthusiastic chronicler. - - "There were then governing and ruling this tribe two stout, able, valiant - pillars, two fierce, lacerating, magnificent heroes; two gates of battle, - two poles of combat, two spreading trees of shelter, two spears of - victory and readiness, of hospitality and munificence, of heart and - strength, of friendship and liveliness, the most eminent of the west of - Europe, namely, Mathgamain and Brian, the two sons of Cennedigh, son of - Lorcan, son of Lachtna, son of Core," etc. - -Their cousins, the Eoganacht, having the lion's share in the government of -Leath Mogha, the following were the principal privileges of the -Dalcassians: - - "It is the privilege of the host of Lugaidh's race - To lead the battalions of the hosts of Mumhain, - And afterward to be in the rere - In coming from a hostile land. - - "It is not fealty that is required of them, - But to preserve the freedom of Caisel. [Footnote 281] - It is not rent, it is not tribute, as hath been heard; - It is not fostership nor fostership's fees. - - [Footnote 281: The residence of the kings of the south assumed the - title of Caisiol, (_Cios_, tribute, _ail_, stone.)] - - ...... - - "And even when there is not a king - Out of you over Erinn of hosts, - Only that you would not infringe on right, - No human power could prevail over you." - -Early in their lives the princes entered on a skirmishing warfare with the -enemy; and when Mahon, weary of the resultless struggle, entered on a truce -with the enemy, Brian still continued to harass them, and as his zealous -biographer says, when he could not injure them on any day, he did it next -night, and every inactive night was followed by a destructive day. He and -his followers lived in temporary huts, and continued to kill daily and -nightly their enemies "by companies, by troops, by scores, by hundreds, and -(in case of a bad day or night) by quaternions." - - "Great were the hardship and the ruin, the bad food and bad bedding, - which they inflicted on him in the wild huts of the desert, on the hard, - knotty, wet roots of his native country, whilst they killed his people, - and his trusty officers, and his comrades; sorrowful, wretched, unpitied, - weary, for historians say that the foreigners cut off his people, so that - he had at last but fifteen followers." - -{774} - -Mahon, finding his brother in this wretched state, appointed a meeting, and -a conference was held, given in verse in the text, Mahon gently chiding -Brian for exposing the lives of his brave followers to certain death; Brian -delicately hinting that such and such of their ancestors would not be so -patient of the presence of the foe in Thomond as he (Mahon) chose to be: - - "_Mahon_. Alone art them, O Brian of Banba (Erinn)! - Thy warfare was not without valor; - Not numerous hast thou come to our house; - Where hast thou left thy followers? - - ..... - - "_Brian_. I have left them on Craig Liath, [Footnote 282] - In that breach where shields were cleft. - Birnn (Biörn)--it was difficult to cut off the man-- - Fell there with his people. - - [Footnote 282: Cariglea (Gray Rock) near Killaloe, seat of - _Aoibhin_, (_Aoine_, Venus?) the Bean Sighe of the - Dalcassian chiefs.] - - ..... - - "Our fight at the Fergus was not soft; - Weary of it were we on both sides; - Our fight in the combat was no weak combat, - Thirty with Elius fell. - - ..... - - "These are our adventures, O man! - O son of Cennedigh, the fair-skinned; - Often did we deliver ourselves with success, - From positions in which we despaired of escape. - Cennedigh for wealth would not have been, - Nor would Lorcan, the faithful, have been - So quiescent toward the foreigners, - As thou art, Mathgamhain!" - -The result of the conference was a general gathering of the native fighting -men to Cashel, and soon a general engagement took place between themselves -and the foreigners at Sulcoit, in which these last sustained a terrible -defeat. The chronicler then relates with much zest the march to Limerick, -its destruction, and the treatment of the conquered: - - "They carried off their jewels, and their best property, and their - saddles beautiful and foreign, their gold and their silver, their - beautiful woven cloth of all colors and of all kinds, their satins and - silken cloth, pleasing and variegated, both scarlet and green, and all - sorts of cloth, in like manner. They carried away their soft, youthful, - bright, matchless girls, their blooming, silk-clad young women, and their - active, large, and well-formed boys. The fort and the good town they - reduced to a cloud of smoke, and to red fire afterward. The whole of the - captives were collected on the hills of Saingel. Every one of them that - was fit for war was killed, and every one that was fit for a slave was - enslaved." - - - Family Quarrels. - -A remnant of the Danish forces maintained a position in Inis Cealtra, -(Scattery Island,) under Ivar, and six years later this chief induced the -chiefs of the O'Donovans and O'Molloys to aid him to destroy the power of -Mahon, now the acknowledged king of Munster, and even to take his life. -These princes were of the Eoganacht branch of the royal line of Cashel, -and, therefore, not friendly disposed to the present Dalcassian monarch. -There are two differing narratives of the murder, with some poems -interpolated, and a guess only can be made at the truthful succession of -incidents. The editor presents as probable a version of the facts as can be -got at among the confusion of the original accounts. - -Mahon unfortunately accepted an invitation to O'Donovan's house at Bruree -on the river Maigue, probably to bring about a more friendly feeling -between the two rival branches of the descendants of their common ancestor, -Oilliol Oluim. - -The Bishop of Cork being active in the matter, and the Eoganacht chiefs -having sworn neither to attempt his life nor blind him, he seems to have -been quite unsuspicious. We next find him met by O'Molloy's people in a -pass between Kilmallock and Cork, and about to be put to death. One of the -accounts says that he had the Book of the Gospels of Barri (belonging to -the cathedral of Cork) on his breast, but that, as soon as he saw his death -determined on, he flung it the distance of a bow-shot away in order that it -might not be stained with his blood. A cleric witness of the base deed -denounced this curse on the O'Molloy, (Maelmuadh): - -{775} - - "It is Aedh (Hugh) that shall kill thee, a man from the border of Aifi, - On the north of the sun with the harshness of the wind. - The deed thou hast done shall be to thee a regret: - That for which thou hast done it thou shalt not enjoy. - Perpetual shall be its misfortune; thy posterity shall pass away, - Thy history shall be forgotten, thy tribe shall be in bondage; - The calf of a pet cow shall overthrow thee at one meeting; - Thou shall not conquer it, Aedhan shall slay thee." - -"The north of the sun with the harshness of the wind" implied the burial of -the treacherous chief on the north side of a hill, where the sun's rays -would not reach his grave. - -The denunciation of the bishop noticed the erics payable for the murder of -the king, but so atrocious was the deed that Brian would not accept any -recompense but the life of the culprit. - -We extract a portion of the elegy made by Mahon's blind bard on the -melancholy occasion: - - "Loud to-day the piercing wail of woe - Throughout the land of Ui Toirdhelbhaigh, (Torloch.) - It shall be and it is a wail not without cause, - For the loss of the hero Mathgamhain. - - "Mathgamhain, the gem of Magh Fail, - Son of Cennedigh, son of Lorcan; - The western world was full of his fame-- - The fiery King of Boromha. - - ..... - - "The Dal Cais of the hundred churches remember - How we overran Gaeth Glenn, - When upon the illustrious Fergal's shield - Mathgamhain's meal was cooked. - - ..... - - "Although calves are not suffered to go to the cows - In lamentation for the noble Mathgamhain, - There was inflicted much evil in his day - By those who are in Port Arda." - -The custom of the Gael in matters militant was to appoint the time and -place for battles--however enraged one party might be with the other. Brian -sent mortal defiance to Molloy, threatening to besiege him in his own dun -if he did not attend the notice. Murchad, Brian's eldest son, and the Osgur -of his day, defied the caitiff chief to single combat. So the challenge was -accepted and the battle took place, a large body of the Danes fighting -under the banner of Maelmuadh. This chief was slain either by the hand of -Murchad, or put to death in cold blood by Aedhan in a lonely hut after the -fight. In this latter case he lost his eyesight in the field of Bealach -Leachta through the curse pronounced on him, and was subsequently killed in -the hut as mentioned. - -A few lines of the poetical invitation to battle sent by Brian are worth -quotation: - - "Go, Cogaran the intelligent! - Unto Maelmuadh of the piercing blue eye, - To the sons of Bran of enduring prosperity, - And to the sons of the Ui Eachdach. - - ..... - - "Say unto the son of Bran that he fail not - After a full fortnight from to-morrow, - To come to Belach Lechta hither, - With the full muster of his army and his followers. - - ..... - - "Whenever the son of Bran son of Cian shall offer - The Cumhal (blood fine) of my brother unto myself, - I will not accept from him hostages or studs, - But only himself in atonement for his guilt. - - ..... - - "But if he do not come from the South - To Belach Lechta the evergreen, - Let him answer at his house - The Dal Cais [Footnote 283] and the son of Cennedigh. - - [Footnote 283: This name imports the "Tribe or Family of Cas."] - - "For him shall not be accepted from them - Gold, nor silver, nor land, - Nor hostages, nor cattle, O man: - Tell them this, and go!" - - - The Fight At Dunlavin. - -There now remained no obstacle to the placing of the crown of Leath Mogha, -[Footnote 284] the southern portion of the island, on the head of the -brother and avenger of Mahon. He took hostages from the chiefs of Desmond, -(_Deas_, South, _Muimhe_, Munster,) allowed sundry Danish groups -of people to occupy places of trade, and finally, in the year 998, came to -a conference with Malachy II., King of Leath Cuinn or northern portion of -Erinn. We have no objection to Brian's triumphant procession up the -Shannon, but are not clear about the privilege assumed by his Dalcassians, -of making hostile visitations to districts on each side as they went -up-stream. However. Malachy had set them a bad example a short time before. - - [Footnote 284: The boundary line of these portions connected the bays - of Dublin and Galway.] - -{776} - -The natives and Danes of Leinster getting up an insurrection soon after -this treaty with Malachy, Brian proceeded toward Dublin to bring them to -their duty. They met him at Glean-Mama (Glen of the Gap) near Dunlavin, but -sustained signal defeats at that pass and other points where they afterward -rallied. The curious in topographical details will find much to interest -them at pages cxliv., etc., of the introduction. The editor has made -himself well acquainted with the natural features of the neighborhood of -Dunlavin, having received some valuable information from Rev. Mr. Sherman, -formerly Roman Catholic curate in the neighborhood. The site of the old -fort is marked by an ancient cemetery, pagan tumuli, and fragments of stone -circles, called by the inhabitants, Pipers' Stones. We must here make use -of one of Dr. Todd's many and valuable archaeological notes: - - "The Danes expected to reach Dunlavin, and perhaps to encamp there to - meet the forces of Meath (under Malachy) and Munster. But Brian met them - in the narrow defile of Glen Mama, thus cutting off their retreat. Here - there was no room for a regular engagement, and the flight must have been - immediate. The main body of the Danish army flew across the sloping land - through Kinsellastown, to the ford of Lemmonstown, where a stand seems to - have been made by them, and where it is said thousands fell in the - conflict. To this day their bones are turned up in the fields about the - ford, and some mounds on the banks of the stream are so filled up with - them that the people leave them untilled, as being sacred repositories of - the dead. The remnant of the defeated army fled to Holywood, about a mile - to the east of the ford, and thence to the ford of the Horse-pass on the - Liffey, about Poul a Phouca, (the Pooka's Hole,) where they were utterly - routed. At the close of the last century the wild lands of Upper Crihelpe - were reclaimed, and many relics of this retreat were brought to light, - chiefly in a line from _Tubber Glen_ (Well of the Glen) to - Lemmonstown ford. The workmen, coming on the pits where the bodies of the - slain lay buried, left them intact, closing them up again. In the defile - of Glen Mama, during the first week of May, 1864, one of these pits was - accidentally opened, bones were turned up, and also the fragments of a - Danish sword, (now in the possession of Dean Graves, Pres. R. I. A.) The - clay was found black and unctuous, as if thoroughly saturated with human - remains." - -In the now nearly unknown cemetery of Crihelpe lie the remains of Harold -the Danish prince, by the side of a granite post, furnished with an -aperture for a wooden shaft, to convert it into a cross. It is called -_Cruisloe_, (_Crois laech_, warrior's cross,) and serves as a -rubbing-post for cattle. - -This was considered one of the most important victories gained over the -foreigners, both from the number of the slain and the spoils -recovered--"Gold, silver, bronze, (_finndruine_,) precious stones, -carbuncle gems, buffalo horns, and beautiful goblets. Much also of various -vestures of all colors was found there likewise;" for, in the words of the -text, - - "Never was there a fortress, or a fastness, or a mound, or a church, or a - sacred place, or a sanctuary, when it was taken by that howling, furious, - loathsome crew, which was not plundered.... Neither was there in - concealment under ground in Erinn, nor in the various solitudes belonging - to Fians [Footnote 285] or to fairies, anything that was not discovered - by these foreign, wonderful Denmarkians through paganism and idol - worship." - - [Footnote 285: Here is evidence of the existence of legends of the - Fianna in the early part of the eleventh century.] - -The tables were now completely turned on the foreigners. Instead of the -state of vassalage in which they had held the natives, we now find the -following state of things: - - "There was not a winnowing sheet from Benn Edair (Howth) to Tech Duinn - [Footnote 286] in Western Erinn that had not a foreigner in bondage on - it, nor was there a quern (hand-mill) without a foreign woman, so that no - son of a soldier or of an officer of the Gaedhil deigned to put his hand - to a flail or to any labor on earth. Nor did a woman deign to put her - hands to the grinding of a quern, or to knead a cake, or to wash her - clothes, but had a foreign man or a foreign woman to work for them." - - [Footnote 286: _House of Donn:_ the locality of the shipwreck of - Donn, son of Milesius, in the south-west of Kerry. Donn was venerated - as a fairy chief after his decease, the same as Aenghus of the Brugh, - Mananan, Mac Lir, etc.] - - - Unedifying Doings at Kincora. - -After a sojourn from Great to Little Christmas (February 2d) in Dublin, -Brian returned to Kincora, (_Ceann Coraidh_, head of the weir.) -{777} -Meantime Sitric, son of Anlaf, the defeated Danish prince, fled to the -court of Aedh, at Aileach, (north east of Donegal,) and afterward to that -of Achy, king of East Ulster, at Down-patrick, but neither king would -afford him protection, such was the awe of Brian's power. So, like a brave -and wise chief, he proceeded directly to the Court of his conqueror, and -requested peace and friendship. These were immediately granted, both from -the inherent nobility of Brian's disposition and his desire to have a -friendly and devoted governor for the distant city of Ath Cliath. - -To strain the bonds that held his new ally to him still tighter, he gave -him his daughter in marriage. This might be prudent or the reverse, but to -take Sitric's mother Gormflaith (blue-_eyed_ noble lady) for his -second wife showed little wisdom. This lady, sister to Maelmordha, King of -Leinster, had for her first husband Olaf Cuaran, to whom she bore the -Prince Sitric. Her next spouse was Malachy, King of Leath Cuinn, already -more than once mentioned. After presenting him with a son, Prince Connor, -she was repudiated, and, very little to Brian's domestic comfort, he was -selected for her third experiment in matrimony. After sharing his royal bed -and board for a season, she was repudiated the second time, and then -probably went to add to the discomfort of the fortress of her son in -Dublin, or her brother at Naas, or Dunlavin, or Dinn Righ, (Ballyknockan, -near Leighlin Bridge.) - - "The Njal Saga calls her Kormlada, and describes her as the fairest of - all women, and best gifted in everything that was not in her own power, - that is, in all physical and natural endowments, but she did all things - ill over which she had any power, that is, in her moral - conduct."--_Burnt Njal_, ii. 323. - -We find at the period in question frequent marriage alliances between Irish -and Danish families. In fact, when a foreign family or tribe had contrived -to secure a footing in the country, and the first bitter dislike had blown -over, the native chiefs began to look on them as they did each other, and -in many cases a stronger feeling of friendship connected the foreign chief -and his people to some neighboring native prince or flaith than prevailed -among themselves. This was also the case afterward between natives and -Anglo-Normans. Nothing could exceed the strength of ties that bound the -individuals of a tribe to each other and to their chief, and in most cases -the chiefs to the provincial kings, but enthusiasm for the cause of the -Ard-Righ or for the general weal of the island was an exceedingly scarce -commodity. The same indifferent spirit still exists. - -The great chiefs proceedings for some time after these occurrences seem to -have been prompted as much by ambition at least as by a national spirit. -Still he did not depart from the generally observed rule among Gaelic kings -and chiefs, that is, sending warning to those on whom they intended to make -war, and appointing the time and place of battle. He gave Malachy plainly -to understand that he should cede to him the dignity of Ard-Righ. The -astonished sovereign claimed time to consult the princes of the North and -his own chiefs, but neither from the Kinel Conaill [Footnote 287] nor the -Kinel Eoghain could he get due encouragement, and he was obliged to -acknowledge the humiliating fact to the southern chief. - - [Footnote 287: In the original is given the poetical adjuration of Gilla - Comghaill O'Sleibhin to Hugh, king of Hy Conaill, to join Malachy in his - opposition to Brian. This King of Munster is treated in it as the King - of Saxon-land in aftertimes by a bard of the fifteenth or sixteenth - century. For a wonder the Ulster king did not yield to the power of - poesy on that occasion.] - -Still the latter was not disposed to take the brave prince at a -disadvantage, and gave him a twelvemonth to mature his plans. The interview -took place in Brian's camp, Malachy being accompanied by twelve score -horsemen, and, when the agreement was made, the southern king proceeded -homeward, first making a present of 240 horses to his future vassal. The -Meath warriors would not deign to conduct each a led horse back to the -royal fort, and Malachy was unwilling to offend Brian by refusing them. -[Footnote 288] - - [Footnote 288: Petty chiefs or princes paying tribute to their - superiors received in turn gifts from the great men, in fact, were - obliged to receive them--a genuine Irish procedure. (See the Book of - Rights.)] - -{778} - -He therefore begged of Murchad to accept them in token of his good-will, -and the prince graciously assented. Malachy was not in a better condition -at the year's end, and so the sovereignty of the island passed into Brian's -hands without bloodshed. We have not space to treat in detail his after -_visitations_ to the north, and his circuit of the kingdom to receive -hostages and confirm his authority. When at Armagh, he gratified the -ecclesiastical powers there by a donation of twenty ounces of gold, and by -directing his secretary, the Abbot O' Carroll, to make this entry in their -book in the Latin language. The curious may still read the original at page -16, BB, in the Book of Armagh, a collection begun in the eighth century: - - "St. Patrick, going up to heaven, commanded that all the fruit of his - labor, as well of baptisms as of causes and of alms, should be carried to - the apostolic city which is called _Scotice_ (in Gaelic) ARDD MACHA. - So I have found it in the book collections of the Scots, (the Gael.) I - have written, (this,) that is, (I,) Calvus Perennis (_Mael-Suthain_, - Bald for Ever) in the sight (under the eyes) of Brian, emperor of the - Scots; and what I have written he has determined for all the kings of - Maceriae, (Cashel or Munster.)" - - - Compensations. - -If there is extant a thorough believer in all the facts related by the -bards, he had better refrain from questioning the editor on the subject of -the beautiful and innocent maiden of the gold ring and snow-white wand. The -chronicler coming to this point in the history thus expressed himself: - - "After the banishment of the foreigners out of all Erinn, and after Erinn - was reduced to a state of peace, a lone woman came from Torach in the - North to Cliodhna [Footnote 289] (pr. Cleena) in the south of Erinn, - carrying a ring of gold on a horse-rod, and she was neither robbed nor - insulted. Whereupon the poet sang: - - "From Torach to pleasant Cliodhna - And carrying with her a ring of gold, - In the time of Brian of the bright side, fearless, - A lone woman made the circuit of Erinn." - - [Footnote 289: Cleena was in the first rank of Munster fairies. Her - visits were much disliked by the people. _Tonn Cliodhna_ - (Cleena's Wave) in one of the Kerry bays was the dread of the native - seamen.] - -It cannot be denied that Brian was a usurper with respect to Leath Cuinn; -but how much better was it for the people of the whole land to be under the -undivided sway of one wise, noble-minded, and energetic prince, assured of -peace, and opportunities of carrying on the ordinary business of life -undisturbed, and improving their condition, than to be merely enduring life -from day to day, not knowing the moment they should be called on to go on a -marauding expedition or to defend their corn, their cattle, and their own -lives from a marauding party. We quote a few of the peaceful exploits of -the best and greatest of our ancient princes: - - "By him were erected noble churches in Erinn and their sanctuaries. He - sent professors and masters to teach wisdom and knowledge, and to buy - books beyond the sea and the great ocean, because the writings and books - in every church, etc., had been burned, and thrown into the water by the - plunderers from the beginning. And Brian himself gave the price of books - to every one separately who went on this service.... By him were erected - the church of Cell Dálua, (Killaloe,) and the church of Inis Cealtra, - (Scattery Island,) and the bell-tower of Tuam Greine, [Footnote 290] etc. - etc. By him were made bridges and causeways and high roads. By him were - strengthened the duns and fortresses and islands.... and royal forts of - Mumhain. He built also the fortification of Caisel of the kings,.... and - Cean Coradh, and Borumha in like manner. He continued in this way - prosperously, peaceful, giving banquets, hospitable, just-judging; - wealthily, venerated, chastely, and with devotion, and with law, and with - rules among the clergy; with prowess and with valor, with renown among - the laity, and fruitful, powerful, firm, secure for fifteen years in the - chief sovereignty of Erinn, as Gilla Maduda (O'Cassidy, Abbot of - Ardbreccan) said: - - 'Brian the flame over Banbha of the variegated flowers, - Without gloom, without guile, without treachery, - Fifteen years in full prosperity.'" - - [Footnote 290: Fort of the Sun--Tomgreany in Clare--a copy of one of - the Danaan round towers. There is at present not a trace of it.] - -{779} - - The Gathering of the Eagles. - -Toward the festival of St. Patrick in the ensuing spring, all that had -remained loyal to the reigning monarch were directing their course to the -plain before Dublin. Sitric, and his mother Gormflaith, and Maelmordha -busied themselves collecting allies from all quarters. Sigurd, Earl of -Orkney, came to the aid of his countrymen on the condition of getting the -privilege of being Gormflaith's fourth husband, the second and third still -living, and one being near eighty years of age. Brodar, about whose name -and the locality of whose earldom there is some uncertainty, was also a -postulant for her hand, and Sitric made no scruple of promising it, -expecting, as may be supposed, that one of the wooers, after doing good -service in the battle, might be very indifferent on the subject at its -close: - - "Brodar, according to the Njal Saga, had been a Christian man and a - mass-deacon by consecration, but he had thrown off his faith, and become - 'God's dastard' and worshipped heathen fiends; and he was of all men most - skilled in sorcery. He had that coat of mail on which no steel would - bite. He was both tall and strong, and had such long locks that he tucked - them under his belt. His hair was black." - -This fierce-looking renegade commanded the foreign Danes and auxiliaries in -the front of the battle, being supported by Earl Sigurd and other chiefs. A -battalion of the Dublin Danes had their position in the rear of these, -supported by the chieftains of ships. Maelmordha and his chiefs occupied -the rear, commanding the North-Leinster men and the forces of Hy -Ceansalach, [Footnote 291] (Wicklow and Wexford.) - - [Footnote 291: The first chief who bore this name had killed a druid, - accompanying the sacrilegious deed with a fiendish grin on his - features. "That vile expression on your face," said the dying man, - "shall give a name to your posterity while grass grows." _Ceann - salach_ is literally _dirty head_. Other great families have - not escaped nick-names. _Cameron_ is crooked nose; - _Cromwell_, crooked eye. (_Hy Kinsala_ is Kinsella's - country.)] - -Directly opposed to Brodar's front battalions were the tried men of -North-Munster, the Dalcassians under the command of the invincible -Murchadh. The battalion behind this front array consisted of other Munster -troops commanded by the Prince of the Waterford Decies. The nobles of -Connacht, with their brave tribesmen, occupied the rear of the Irish war -force. - -The patriotic chronicler, having brought the combatants face to face on the -field which was to be the crown of his work, felt all his poetic rage arise -against the foreigners, whom he abuses as heartily as Goldsmith's bailiff -did the French: - - "These were the chiefs, and outlaws, and Dannars of all the west of - Europe, having no reverence, veneration, respect, or mercy, for God or - for man, for church or for sanctuary, at the head of cruel, villainous, - ferocious, plundering, hard-hearted, wonderful Danmarkians, selling and - hiring themselves for gold, and silver, and other treasures as well. And - there was not one villain or robber of that two thousand, (the troops of - Brodor and his brother Anlaf,) who had not polished, strong, - triple-plated, glittering armor of refined iron, or of cool uncorroding - brass, encasing their sides and bodies from head to foot." - -In the description of the arms and armor of the combatants we suspect our -authority of some inaccuracy. Avoiding the forest of epithets bristling all -over the glowing description, we are told that the blue-green, hard-hearted -pagans used crimsoned, murderous, poisoned arrows anointed and browned in -the blood of dragons, and toads, and water-snakes, and otters, (the poor -otter! he did not deserve this,) and scorpions. They had barbarous quivers, -yellow-shining bows, green, sharp, rough, dark spears, polished, pliable, -triple-plated corselets of refined iron and uncorroding brass. Their swords -were heavy, hard-striking, strong, and powerful. - -{780} - -To the Gaelic warriors he allows glittering, _poisoned_, [Footnote -292] well-riveted spears, with beautiful handles of white hazel; darts -furnished with silken strings, to be cast overhand; long, glossy, white -shirts; comfortable (comfort in battle!) long vests; well-adjusted, -many-colored tunics over these; variegated, brazen-embossed shields, with -bronze chains; crested, golden helms, set with precious stones, on the -heads of chiefs and princes; glaring, broad, well-set Lochlann axes, to hew -plate and mail. Every sword had about thirty glorious qualities attached to -it. [Footnote 293] - - [Footnote 292: Venomous and poisonous in the bardic lays were mere - epithets applied to weapons from their aptitude to inflict mortal - wounds.] - - [Footnote 293: It is somewhat strange that the chronicler has not - afforded even the _luirech_ (the leathern jack with its iron or - bronze scales) to his heroes. These loricas are frequently mentioned in - the old lays.] - -The inferiority of the Irish warriors in defensive arms gave little concern -to their historian. Armed or unarmed, they were a match for the world. -(This under certain conditions is our own belief.) - - "Woe to those who attacked them if they could have avoided attacking - them, for it was swimming against a stream, it was pummelling an oak with - fists, it was a hedge against the swelling of a spring tide, it was a - string upon sand or a sunbeam, it was the fist against a sunbeam to - attempt to give them battle or combat." - - - Day at Clontarf. - -The battle began with a single combat, there being a previous challenge in -the case. Plait, the foreign warrior, came before his lines and shouted, -"Faras (_where is?_ an attempt at Danish) Donall?" "Here, thou -reptile!" said the Irish champion. The battle was sharp and short, the two -warriors falling on the sod at the same moment, their left hands clutching -each other's hair, and their hearts transfixed by their swords. - -Heaven and earth are ransacked for sublime images to give an idea of the -dread struggle that took place between the iron-covered and the defenceless -warriors on each side: - - "To nothing small (we quote our text) could be likened the firm, stern, - sudden, thunder motion, and the stout, valiant, haughty, billow roll of - these people on both sides. I could compare it only to the boundless, - variegated wonderful firmament that has cast a heavy, sparkling shower of - flaming stars over the surface of the earth, or to the startling, - fire-darting roar of the clouds and the heavenly orbs, confounded and - crashed by all the winds in their contention against each other." - -It was a terrible spectacle without doubt--the din and clang of sword and -axe on shields and helms, the cries of the combatants, and the lurid -flashes from the polished surfaces of the arms, and the effect of all -intensified by dying groans, and the sight of bodies writhing in agony as -life was about to quit them. It is not so easy to understand, taking -distance into account, how the following circumstance could occur: - - "It was attested by the foreigners and foreign women who were watching - from the battlements of Ath Cliath, that they used to see flashes of fire - from them in the air on all sides." - -Malachy's forces remained inactive during the main part of the fight at -least. Dr. Todd acquits him, however, of treachery to the national cause. -We quote some passages of a description of the fight imputed to him: - - "There was a field and a ditch between us and them, and the sharp wind of - the spring coming over them toward us. And it was not a longer time than - a cow could be milked that we continued there, when not one person of the - two hosts could recognize another.... We were covered, as well our heads - as our faces, and our clothes, with the drops of the gory blood, carried - by the force of the sharp, cold wind which passed over them to us.... Our - spears over our heads had become clogged and bound with long locks of - hair, which the wind forced upon us when cut away by well-aimed swords - and gleaming axes, so that it was half occupation to us to endeavor to - disentangle and cast them off." - -Were we a powerful, well-armed warrior standing by the side of Maelseachlin -(Malachy) on that day, we would certainly have endeavored to find a better -occupation for his hands. Hear this bit of Pecksniffism uttered by him: - - "It is one of the problems of Erinn whether the valor of those who - sustained that crushing assault was greater than ours who bore the sight - of it without running distracted before the winds, or fainting." - -{781} - -Conaing, Brian's nephew, and Maelmordha, fell that day by each other's -swords. The Connacht forces and the Danes of Dublin assailed each other so -furiously that only about a hundred of the Irish survived, while the Danes -scarcely left a score. Murchadh's exploits, could we trust the chronicler -and Malachy, could be rivalled only by those of Achilles of old. He went -forward and backward through the enemies' ranks, mowing them down even as a -person might level rows of upright weeds. He got his mortal wound at last -from the knife of a Dane whom he had struck to the earth. He survived, -however, till he had received the consolations of religion. - -About sunset the foreigners, notwithstanding their superiority in armor, -were utterly defeated. Striving to escape by their ships, they were -prevented by the presence of the full tide, and those who flew toward the -city were either intercepted by the same tide or by Maelseachluin's -[Footnote 294] men. Dr. Todd inclines to this last theory. The heroic youth -Torloch, son of Murchadh, pursuing the fugitive Danes into the sea, met his -death at a weir. - - [Footnote 294: This name implies the Tonsured, that is, devoted - disciple of Saint Sechnal, contemporary with St. Patrick, and patron of - Dunshaughlin.] - -The aged monarch, while engaged at his prayers for the blessing of Heaven -on the arms of his people, was murdered just at the moment of victory by -the chief Brodar, who in a few minutes afterward was torn to pieces by the -infuriated soldiers crowding to the spot. - -The power of the foreigners was certainly crushed in this great and -memorable combat, but disorder seized on the general weal of the island -again. South-Munster renewed its contentions with North-Munster, and even -its own chiefs with each other. Donnchad, Brian's remaining son, though a -brave prince, had not the abilities of his father or elder brother. Malachy -quietly resumed the sovereignty of the island, but found that the -annoyances from turbulent petty kings and the still remaining foreigners -were not at an end. - -We join our regret to that of the editor that one of the unromantic books -of Annals--that of Tiernach, or Loch Cé, or that of Ulster, has not -inaugurated the publication of our ancient chronicles. Dr. Todd has done -all that could be done by the most profound and enlightened scholar to -disentangle the true from the false through the narrative by shrewd -guesses, by sound judgment in weighing the merits and probabilities of -conflicting accounts, by comparing the romantic statements with those set -forth in the genuine annals and the foreign authorities, whether Icelandic -or Anglo-Saxon. Many events in our old archives, pronounced by shallow and -supercilious critics to have had no foundation, are found to possess the -stamp of truth by the care taken by Dr. Todd and his fellow-archaeologists -in comparing our own annals and those of the European nations with whom we -had formerly either friendly or hostile relations. - -Besides the anxious care bestowed on the comparison of the different MSS. -and the translation, and the very useful commentary, the editor has -furnished in the appendix the fragment (with translation) in the Book of -Leinster, the Chronology and Genealogy of the Kings of Ireland and of -Munster during the Danish period, Maelseachluin's account of the fight of -Clontarf, in full from the Brussels MS., and the genealogy of the various -Scandinavian chiefs who were mixed with our concerns for two centuries. The -accounts given in detail of the fortunes of Sitric and others of these -chiefs are highly interesting. The present volume will be more generally -read than any of the mere chronicles, into whose composition entered more -conscience and judgment--on account of the many poetic and romantic -passages scattered through it. Let us hope that it is not the last on which -the labors of the eminent scholar, its editor, will be employed, for we -cannot conceive any literary task more ably and satisfactorily executed -than the production of the Wars of the Gaedhil and the Gaill. - -{782} - -The Fatal Sisters, translated by Gray from the Norse, refer to the day at -Clontarf. We quote three of the verses: - - "Ere the ruddy sun be set - Pikes must shiver, javelins sing, - Blade with clattering buckler meet, - Hauberk crash, and helmet ring. - - ...... - - "Low the dauntless earl [Footnote 295] is laid, - Gored with many a gaping wound; - Fate demands a nobler head, - Soon a king [Footnote 296] shall bite the ground. - - [Footnote 295: Earl Sigurd.] - - [Footnote 296: Brian.] - - "Long his loss shall Erinn weep, - Ne'er again his likeness see; - Long her strains in sorrow steep, - Strains of immortality!" - -The appendix added by Dr. Todd to the work is exceedingly interesting and -valuable, containing among other matters a carefully arranged genealogical -list of the Irish princes and the foreign chiefs during the Danish wars, -and an abstract of the fortunes of several of these kings. The accounts of -the battle of Clontarf differed so much in form in the two MSS., that is, -the Dublin and Brussels copies, that, instead of pointing out the various -readings in notes to the body of the narrative, the editor has removed the -account in the Brussels MSS., purported to have been given by Malachy, to -the end of the book. Passages are worth preservation as literary -curiosities. If Malachy felt any ill to Brian for wresting his independent -sovereignty from him, there is not a trace of it discoverable in his -narrative. Thus he speaks of the noble heir-apparent, Murchadh, who -disdained to wear even a shield. - - - Malachy's Account of the Battle. - - "The royal warrior had with him two swords, that is, a sword in each - hand, for he was the last man in Erinn who was equally expert in the use - of the right hand and of the left... He would not retreat one foot before - the race of all mankind for any reason in the world, except this reason - alone, that he could not help dying of his wounds. He was the last man in - Erinn who was a match for a hundred. He was the last man who killed a - hundred in one day in Erinn. His step was the last step which true valor - took. Seven like Murchadh were equal to Mac Samhain," etc. - -Then the writer indulged in a heroic series in geometrical progression, -each hero being worth seven such as the man who preceded him, and the -greatest of all being Hector of Troy. All native bards, school-masters, and -school boys, who have flourished since first the siege of Troy was heard of -in Ireland, have fixed on Hector as the matchless model of heroism, -chivalric faith, courtesy, and tenderness; most of them have borne a -cordial hatred to the son of Peleus. Has the feeling originated from the -pseudo-work of Dares the Phrygian priest having arrived in the country -before Homer's "Tale of Troy Divine"? The theory in the text would make -Hector many times superior to Hercules, the heroic terms in the sevenfold -progression being Murchadh, Mac Samhain, Lugha Lagha, Conall Cearnach, -Lugha Lamhfada, (_Long Hand_,) Hector! After the list comes this -rather startling assertion: "These were the degrees of championship since -the beginning of the world, and before Hector there was no illustrious -championship." - - "Murchadh was the Hector of Erinn in valor, in championship, in - generosity, in munificence. He was the pleasant, intelligent, affable, - accomplished Samson of the Hebrews in his own career and in his time. He - was the second powerful Hercules, who destroyed and exterminated the - serpents and monsters of Erinn.... He was the gate of battle and the - sheltering tree, the crushing sledge-hammer of the enemies of his - fatherland and of his race during his career. - - "When this very valiant, very great, royal champion, and plundering, - brave, powerful hero saw the crushing and the repulse that the Danars and - pirates gave to the Dal Cais, it operated upon him like death or a - permanent blemish; and he was seized with boiling, terrible anger, and - his bird of valor and championship arose, and he made a brave, vigorous, - sudden rush at a battalion of the pirates, like a violent, impetuous, - furious ox that, is about being caught, or like a fierce, tearing, swift, - all-powerful lioness deprived of her cubs, or like the roll of a deluging - torrent, that shatters and smashes everything that resists it; and he - made a hero's breach and a soldier's field through the battalions of the - pirates. And the historians of the foreigners testified after him that - there fell fifty by his right, and fifty by his left hand in that onset. - Nor did he administer more than one blow to any of them; and neither - shield, nor corselet, nor helmet, resisted any of these blows, which - clave bodies and skulls alike. Thus three times he forced his way - backward through the battalions in that manner." - -{783} - -Sitric, the Danish prince, married as before mentioned to a daughter of -Brian, is described as looking at the fight from his Dublin watch-tower, -with his wife at his side. Seeing the mass of plumages and hair shorn off -by the gleaming weapons, and flying over the heads in the wind, he -exclaimed, "Well do the foreigners reap the field, for many is the sheaf -whirled aloft over them." But in the evening he was obliged to endure the -sight of his foreign friends and allies fleeing into the sea "like a herd -of cows in heat from sultry weather, or from gnats, or from flies. And they -were pursued quickly and lightly into the sea, where they were with great -violence drowned, so that they lay in heaps and in hundreds and in -battalions." Sitric's wife had not yet learned to feel strong sympathy with -her husband's politics; and, if he had insisted on her presence in order to -be a spectator of the defeat of her countrymen, he was sadly disappointed: - - "Then it was that Brian's daughter, the wife of Amhlaibh's son, said: 'It - appears to me,' said she, 'that the foreigners have gained their - inheritance.' [Footnote 297] 'What is that, O girl?' said Amhlaibh's son. - 'The foreigners are only going into the sea as is hereditary to them.' 'I - know not whether it is on them, but nevertheless they tarry not to be - milked.' - - [Footnote 297: Sitric had used that expression at an early hour of the - fight, when he imagined the Danes were gaining on their enemy.] - - "The son of Amhlaibh was angered with her, and he gave her a blow which - knocked a tooth out of her head." - -Murcadh's death after a fatiguing day of fight has been already related. -While the fierce struggle was going on, thus was the brave and devout old -monarch employed: - - "When the combatants met, his cushion was spread under him, and he opened - his psalter, and he began to recite his psalms and his prayers behind the - battle, and there was no one with him but Laideen, his own horseboy. - Brian said to his attendant, 'Watch thou the battle and the combatants - while I recite my psalms.' Brian then said fifty psalms, fifty prayers, - and fifty paters, and he asked the attendant how the battalions were - circumstanced. The attendant answered, 'I see them, and closely - confounded are they, and each of them has come within grasp of the other. - And not more loud to me would be the blows in Tomar's wood if seven - battalions were cutting it down, than are the resounding blows on the - heads, and bones, and skulls of them.' Brian asked how was the banner of - Murchadh. 'It stands,' said the attendant, 'and the banners of the Dal - Cais round it.'... His cushion was readjusted under Brian, and he said - fifty psalms, fifty prayers, and fifty paters, and he asked the attendant - how the battalions were. The attendant said, 'There lives not a man who - could distinguish one of them from the other, for the greater part of the - hosts on either side are fallen, and those that are alive are so - covered--their heads, and legs, and garments, and drops of crimson - blood--that the father could not recognize his own son there.' And again - he asked how was the banner of Murchadh. The attendant answered, 'It is - far from Murchadh, and has gone through the hosts westward, and it is - stooping and inclining. Brian said, 'Erinn declines on that account. - Nevertheless so long as the men of Erinn shall see that banner, its valor - and its courage shall be upon every man of them.' Brian's cushion was - readjusted, and he said fifty psalms, fifty prayers, and fifty paters, - and the fighting continued during all that time. Brian then cried out to - the attendant, how was the banner of Murchad, and how were the - battalions. The attendant answered, 'It appears to me like as if Tomar's - wood was being cut down, and set on fire, its underwood and its young - trees, and as if the seven battalions had been unceasingly destroying it - for a month, and its immense trees and its great oaks left standing.'" - - - - Later Exploits of Sitric of the Silky Beard. - -A year after the battle, Malachy assaulted Dublin, and burned all the -buildings outside the fortress, within which Sitric lay secure. In 1018, -Sitric blinded Bran or Braoin, his own first cousin, son of Maelmordha, -thus incapacitating him to rule. The poor prince subsequently went abroad -and died in a monastery at Cologne. This Bran was ancestor of the _Ua -Brain_ or O'Byrn of Wicklow. -{784} -Next year he went on enlarging his bad ways by plundering Kells, slaying -many people in the very church, and carrying away spoils and prisoners. In -1021, his Danes and himself got a signal defeat at Derne Mogorog, -(Delgany,) by the son of Dunlaing, King of Leinster. In 1022, he was again -defeated by King Malachy in a land battle, and at sea by Niall, son of -Eochaidh, (_pr._ Achy or Uchy,) king of Hy Conaill. In 1027, he made -an unsuccessful raid into Meath, and next year went on a pilgrimage to -Rome. Two years later he attended the funeral of his mother Gormflaith. His -pilgrimage had not quenched his thirst for forays, for in 1031 he plundered -Ardbraccan, and carried off much cattle. Next year he was victorious at the -mouth of the Boyne over the men of Meath, Louth, and Monaghan. In 1035, -twenty-one years after the great fight, he abdicated in favor of his nephew -Eachmarcach, (Rich in Horses,) and went abroad, (where is not said.) His -death as well as that of his daughter Fineen, a nun, is recorded in 1042, -the last seven years of life having probably been spent in religious -retirement. - -Irish historians and archaeologists will find valuable assistance in the -appendix, whenever they are occupied with the genealogies of the Irish or -foreign kings and chiefs who flourished during the two centuries preceding -the day at Clontarf. - ------- - - From The Month. - - Rhoda. - - A Devonshire Eclogue. - - - "I am declined - Into the vale of years; yet that's not much."_--Othello_. - - It was the deep midsummer; the calm lake - Lay shining in the sun; the glittering ripples, - That scarce bare record of the wind's light wings, - Reached not the shore, where, shadowed by huge oaks, - The clear still water blended with the land - In undistinguished union. All was still, - Save where at little distance a bright spring - Leapt out from a fern-coroneted rock, - And ran with cheerful prattle its short course - (Making the silence deeper for its noise) - To quiet slumber in the quiet lake. - - Down to the margin of the water, slow - Pacing along the shadow-dappled grass - Into the trees' green twilight, steadfastly - The while his eyes bent down upon the ground, - Sir Richard Conway came. No longer young; - A statesman of repute; in council wise; - Of bitter speech, but not unkindly heart; - Of stately presence still. He in his youth - Had wooed and wedded a fair girl; so fair, - So gentle, and so good that when she died - His heart and love died too, and in her grave - Lay down, and he came forth a stricken man. - -{785} - - But this was long ago: his children grew; - He watched them, but they never saw his heart; - They dreamed not of the proud man's tenderness, - But went into the highway of the world, - And left him to his utter loneliness. - Years passed: sometimes his solitary heart - Sent out a cry of agony for love; - But no one heard--he sternly stifled it: - Treading his path with dignity, he lived - In pride and honor, and he lived alone. - - He prayed for love, and in his autumn days - Love came upon him; but in such a sort - As, if a man had told him it would come, - He would have laughed in scorn. But so it is; - God gives us our desire, and sends withal - Sharp chastening as his wisdom sees most fit. - - Rhoda, the fairest of a sisterhood - Who were all fair, lived hard by the great house, - Near to the lake; the daughter of a pair - Not rich, yet blessed with slender competence. - And sometimes in the park, or in the house, - Whereto chance errands brought her, she would meet - Sir Richard, who to such as her showed ever - A gracious kindness, and would give to her - A friendly greeting, sometimes with a word - Of question of her needs or her desires, - Followed by such slight interchange of talk - As might befit such meetings--nothing more. - Indeed he could not fail, as time wore on, - To note that with each year she lovelier grew: - A pale and delicate fairy, exquisite - As some rare picture, with pathetic eyes - Veiled underneath long lashes; their shy glance - Seemed to reveal a soul whose tender depths - Were unprofaned by any earthly thought. - Nor was it seeming only: she was good; - And fenced her beauty with simplicity, - Meek sense, and modest wisdom. - -{786} - - This he saw-- - He could not choose but see it; and he felt, - When she was near, as if some soothing strain - Breathed round him; and his secret soul was swayed - With unseen power, as sways the billowy corn - Swept by the warm caresses of the wind. - He knew what this portended. All in vain - The proud man struggled with his heart: he loved, - And knew that he loved, Rhoda; all in vain - He strove to turn away from her fair face; - He only gazed more tenderly: in vain - Strove to speak coldly when he met her; still - His deep voice trembled, as his heart beat fast, - And from his eyes looked out his yearning soul. - Of all this conflict Rhoda saw but little; - The less, belike, for conflict of her own: - Mysterious longings kindled by his voice; - Shy pleasure in his presence; constant thought - (Half reverence, half compassion, tender always) - Of this grave, courteous, noble, lonely man, - Who looked so great, so sorrowful, but still - With many a mute yet clearly speaking sign - Sued for her love with sad humility. - These things she never uttered to her heart; - And if her thoughts half spoke, unwaveringly - She put them by, and simply went her way. - But he could fight no longer; and to-day - He waited by the water, for he knew - Rhoda would pass that way, and he resolved - To tell her all his secret, and to learn - His future from her lips, whether they spoke - Hope or despair. - - He had not waited long, - When through the park, along the trembling lake, - Into the oaks' soft shadows, Rhoda came; - So bright, so fresh, so beautiful, she seemed - To bring a golden light into the gloom. - Sir Richard trembled, and his breath came quick, - His pulse throbbed wildly, and his eyes grew dim; - Yet, mastered by his iron will, his words - Came calmly forth to greet her: at the sound, - Surprised to find him here, she started back, - Then murmuring something hurriedly, went on. - He gently staid her, saying in tenderest tones: - "One moment, Rhoda--one--could you but know--" - She looked into his face with wondering eyes, - Then bashfully withdrew them; for she knew - At once his secret from his pleading voice - And his dark eyes' ineffable tenderness. - "I did not mean to startle you," he said; - "Nay, do not tremble; could you see my soul, - The tempest there would make your own show calm. - Oh! stay--forgive me when the heart beats fast. - The tongue is slow--I love you! Fewest words - Are best for such confession. Can you love?" - -{787} - - But Rhoda could not answer. Naught was heard - Except the gurgling of the silver spring, - When thus in saddest accents he resumed: - "Rhoda, you see in me a man sore smitten, - Whose youth and spring were buried long ago-- - One who has had no summer in his heart, - Whose autumn days are lonely, and who prayed - (Till you relumed the sunshine of his life) - For the swift-closing winter of the grave. - Long have I kept my secret to myself-- - From no mean shame, my girl; for well I know, - Were you my wife, mine were the gain, not yours; - But silver hairs blend ill with waving gold, - Nor would I bring a blight upon your life. - Why have I spoken? 'Twas a selfish thought - To share with you the burden of my gloom, - O'ershadowing your young years--an idle dream - That one so old and desolate as I - Could stir the heart of blessed youthfulness. - There--you have heard my secret. Pity me: - I know you will not mock me. So, farewell! - Go, Rhoda, with my blessing on your head! - I to my loveless life return alone, - Forlorn, but uncomplaining." - - He turned to go, - But Rhoda, who had heard him to this word, - Could now endure no more; she caught his arm, - She gazed at him with fond eyes full of tears. - "Oh! not alone!" she said "we go together; - If a poor girl like me--" She said no more, - But turned and hid her face upon his heart. - He clasped her, looking thankfully to heaven, - Then stooped and kissed her: "Rhoda, my own wife, - Bear with me for my love!" The trees stood still, - Yielding no faintest whispering. They came forth - Out of the solemn grove into the sun; - The soft blue sky had not one film of cloud; - And as they walked in silence, they could hear - Far off the happy stockdove's brooding note. - - And so Sir Richard won his lovely wife. - Once more the old house brightened; stately rooms - Rang with the unaccustomed sound of mirth: - And still as years went on, Sir Richard wore - Always an air of serious cheerfulness; - While baby voices gladdened all the place, - And Rhoda's lovely face was never sad. - Let the grim rock give forth a living stream, - And still boon nature crowns its ruggedness - With flowers and fairy grasses. - -{788} - - Near the park - Towers up a tract of granite; the huge hills - Bear on their broad flanks right into the mists - Vast sweeps of purple heath and yellow furze. - It is the home of rivers, and the haunt - Of great cloud-armies, borne on ocean blasts - Far-stretching squadrons, with colossal stride - Marching from peak to peak, or lying down - Upon the granite beds that crown the heights. - Yet for the dwellers near them these bleak moors - Have some strange fascination; and I own - That, like a strong man's sweetness, to myself - Pent in the smoky city, worn with toil, - When the sun rends the veil, or flames unveiled - Over those wide waste uplands, or when mists - Fill the great vales like lakes, then break and roll - Slow lingering up the hills as living things, - Then do they stir and lift the soul; and then - Their colors, and their rainbows, and their clouds, - And their fierce winds, and desolate liberty, - Seem endless beauty and untold delight. - - So was it with Sir Richard: from the park - And from the cares of state he often went - With Rhoda, to enjoy some happy hours - There face to face with nature--far away - From all the din and fume of human life, - From paltry cares and interests, that corrupt - Or keep the soul in chains. They may be seen - On a great hill, on cloudless summer days, - Or when the sun in autumn melts the clouds, - Gazing on that magnificent region, spread - In majesty below them: teeming plains - And wood-clothed gorges of the hills in front; - Behind them sea-like ridges of bare moor, - Some in brown shade, some white with blazing light; - Above, enormous rocks piled up in play - By giants; all around, authentic relics - Of those drear ages, when half-naked men - Roamed these dim regions, waging doubtful war - With wolves and bears; and on the horizon's verge - The pale blue waste of ocean. There they sit, - Sir Richard and his Rhoda, side by side - Their hearts aglow with love, their souls bowed down - In thankful adoration, scarce recalled - From musings deep and tender, by the shouts - Of two fair children playing at their feet. - -October, 1866. - ------- - -{789} - - - Original. - - Protestant Attacks Upon The Bible. [Footnote 298] - - [Footnote 298: Liber Librorum: Its Structure, Limitations, and Purpose. - A Friendly Communication to a Reluctant Sceptic. New-York: C. Scribner - & Co. 1867.] - - -The work, the title of which we subjoin, though pretending on the surface -to be an appeal, in favor of the Bible, is, in truth, one of the most -serious attacks made upon it that has come under our notice; and would be, -for a Protestant, one of the most dangerous books he could read. With a -Catholic its arguments would have no force whatever, being based upon the -unphilosophical principle of private judgment on revealed truth. We should -say that, take it as a whole, it is a very clever attempt to found a purely -subjective religion, which might call itself Christianity with equal -consistency as do many so-called Christian denominations of our day, and -which would consequently ignore all dogmatic authority and make use of the -Holy Scriptures only as a means of edification. - -We cannot see how a Protestant can escape the conclusions drawn by the -author, unless he abandons his Protestantism for Catholic authority or for -the most irresponsible individuality; and, if the author has really been -sincere in his professed desire to reassure the troubled mind of his -reluctant sceptic, and inspire him with respect for the Bible as the -revealed word of God, we cannot but think he counts upon his sceptic's -possessing very limited reasoning powers. His entire argument throughout is -based upon postulates which we are sure no sceptic and certainly no -Catholic is prepared to grant. For it is assumed both that we are, or ought -to be, Christians as a matter of course, independent of authoritative -teaching, and that the inspiration of the Bible is to be taken for granted -without extrinsic proof. Moreover, that each individual is possessed of a -verifying faculty which enables him to appropriate of its contents just so -much and in so far as God wishes it to be true to him. - -To assert that a man can be or has become a Christian without having been -so taught is simply absurd. That Christianity is, of all religious systems, -the most perfectly conformable to the reason and spiritual needs of -mankind, fulfilling, perfecting, and completing human nature, is -indisputable; but a man is not born a Christian any more than he is born a -Mohammedan or a Buddhist. What the author of this work seems contented to -take as Christianity will be found broad enough to suit any one who has a -fancy to dignify the mutilated traditions to which he yet clings by that -title; but we think very few will consent to accept their own convictions -as sufficient proof of the divine truth of what they believe, or bow to the -Holy Scriptures as the inspired word of God upon no other authority than a -sense of its harmony in doctrine and morals with what they individually -hold. The stream is not the cause of the fountain. That the stream of -Christian truth, nay, that the stagnant puddles which are the result of an -erratic overflow of its waters, are the cause of its fountain-head of -credibility is what this unphilosophical writer takes for granted on every -page of his book. Of course it is both foolish and arrogant presumption in -the church to claim infallibility, but the most reasonable thing in the -world for each and every human being to claim this prerogative as a -natural-born characteristic. However, we do not wonder at this; it is but -the logical consequence, ridiculously absurd as is the conclusion, of the -rejection of the principle of divine authority. -{790} -It is the conclusion forced upon its adherents by Protestantism, and shows -its fruits in the present wide-spread scepticism and infidelity in the -countries where it has been the dominant religion. Never did any system -prepare more surely the weapon of its own destruction than that which -promulgated to the world the principle of private judgment. The cry of -revolt is raised in the Protestant camp, and alarming its teachers--Rome or -Reason--by which is too plainly meant, "Either a divinely constituted -authority, or the divine authority of the individual soul." A choice that -leaves all the sects which have sprung from the Reformation out in the -cold. - -Upon the unphilosophical basis for Christian faith which we have noted -above our author proceeds to establish the sufficient authenticity and -inspiration of the Bible. We say, _sufficient_, because, as far as we -are able to gather, he rates the entire credibility and value of the -Scriptures as the revealed word of God to man according to the intellectual -and spiritual assent of the individual, assuming, as he does, that every -man possesses a "verifying faculty" and a "spiritual insight," through -which his own belief and the Scriptures confirm one another and make him -wise unto salvation. - -He holds that the Bible is inspired only in what concerns doctrine and -morals, but is forced to make his reader the judge of what is doctrine and -the censor of morality, for his highest evidence either of inspiration or -of the canonicity of the sacred books is, as he tells us on p. 136, "the -interior witness of the Spirit to the truths embodied in the accepted -books." And as he says on p. 85, "It is 'the wise' only who 'understand.' -The peasant is, in this respect, often far above the philosopher. -Everything depends on the moral condition of the recipient." We think it -sufficient to add his own damaging conclusion: "That this way of looking at -the matter makes the evidence for the truth of the Bible mainly subjective -cannot be disputed; but nothing else in the present day appears to have -much hold on men. It may, indeed, be seriously doubted whether it is now -possible to bring forward any evidence, in favor of miracles, for instance, -which could reasonably be expected to satisfy an unconcerned spectator, and -still less an opponent." (P. 86.) - -For himself, therefore, the author rejects all miracles which he thinks -were needless and unworthy of the apparent end for which they were -performed, and advises his reluctant sceptic to follow his example. -Moreover, as he does not find that his interior witness convicts him of the -truth of the Trinity or the divinity of Jesus Christ, or, as we suppose, -from the tenor of his language, anything else that is a mystery, of course -the Scripture does not teach these doctrines either. No man can be blind to -the inevitable consequence of such a principle. The Bible could not have -the slightest extrinsic authority in either doctrine or morals, and is a -proof that, without the divine authority, which both authenticates and -interprets it, it is practically worthless in teaching the one or enforcing -the other. - -The following passage contains a most admirable refutation of the writer's -own principle, which, however, he does not appear to see: "Looked at in -this way"--as discerned by spiritual insight--"it is of no moment that -either the uninstructed or the instructed man should be able to say -regarding each separate passage of Scripture, _this_ is inspired, -_this_ is not. How can he indeed? The revelation is not a thing -_apart_ from daily life, but _through_ its various relations: -how, then, can any man undertake to separate in each particular the -supernatural element from the natural which it irradiates and explains? To -regard anything of the kind as necessary either to confidence or -edification is absurd; as absurd, in fact, as it is to maintain that we -'require an exercise of judgment upon the written document before we can -allow men to believe in their King and Saviour.' -{791} -Every one knows that this is not the fact; that in all time the multitude -never have nor ever can enter upon any such inquiries; that the masses must -either believe in Christ directly as an actual person related to them, and -recognized by them in their inmost souls, or they will not believe at all. -They listen to the announcement that Christ is their Redeemer, and they -believe the good news _just in so far as it finds a response in their own -spiritual necessities and consciousness_. Into evidences about documents -they cannot enter." (Pp. 81, 82.) - -This is the most delightful instance of begging the question we have ever -met with. Pray, _who_ announces to the multitude, who cannot enter -into evidence about documents nor even read them, that Christ is their -Redeemer? and who has any _right_ to announce that fact? Truly, -"whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved;" but, "how -shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? Or how shall they -believe him of whom they have not heard? And how shall they hear without a -preacher? And how shall they preach _unless they be sent?_" That it is -the end of preaching, and that saving faith is the belief of the "good news -just in so far as it finds a response in one's own spiritual necessities -and self-consciousness," is mere twaddle, since our spiritual needs however -keenly appreciated, or self-consciousness, however exalted, can never -supply the objective truths of faith or rise above their own capacity to -the ability of verifying, without the aid of extrinsic authority, the -truths when proposed. Christianity, in so far as it is anything more than -mere natural religion, is not of us, but to us. For if it were of us, what -need is there of a revelation? That the good news that Christ is my -Redeemer can be in any manner affirmed to me by my own self-consciousness -is impossible. It is an historical fact, it is true, that such a person as -Christ lived, but it is not an historical fact, by any means, that he is my -Redeemer. That is a divine fact, which the most minute history of humanity -never could demonstrate, for it is altogether out of the natural order, and -wholly supernatural, and hence requiring a divine teaching authority both -to promulgate it and enforce my belief. What this author, with many other -modern writers of the same class, needs is a good course of philosophy as -taught in our Catholic schools. It would save us a good deal of time and -paper in exposing their illogical reasonings. - -We do not deny that the holy writings find a response in the heart and mind -of the Christian which no other book that was ever penned could awaken. We -know that it is full of strength and consolation, of instruction and -righteousness, and of help in the perfecting of his character; but this is -the case precisely because he is a Christian by virtue of the same -authority which declares the inspiration of its contents. That authority -for every one who can rationally call himself a Christian is the authority -of the Catholic Church. From this there is no escape. All Protestants -inasmuch as they are Christian are so in obedience to the voice of whatever -Catholic tradition is yet left to influence them. It announces that -Christianity is true and that the Bible is inspired. This tradition of -theirs finds its sanction in the Catholic Church, and would be utterly -worthless if she had no existence. - -Again, it is impossible to controvert the fact that the Bible, as a -Christian revelation, depends for its authenticity and canonicity upon the -sanction of the church. To say that it does not is to claim inspiration for -every individual in order to decide upon what is and what is not inspired. -If I reject the authority of the church, how shall I be content with the -Bible as it is, as she has compiled it? Perhaps I might differ with her as -to her decision about the non-inspiration of the rejected gospels and -epistles; and if to my thinking some of the books which it now contains are -not inspired, nay more, if I reject the whole of them as such, what power -on earth is there to call me to account? -{792} -No wonder Luther had the presumption to call the epistle of St. James an -"epistle of straw," or that Dr. Colenso has no respect for the Pentateuch. -We are constrained to believe that the principles assumed by this writer -are far more pernicious, and would do more to undermine the traditional -authority which the Bible has among Protestants and reluctant sceptics, -than the weak and flippant arguments of the notorious apostle of the Zulus. - -We read the chapter on the Interpretation of Scripture with no little -curiosity, knowing that this would present a test question to the author's -system of inspiration. Suppose that two men, two Christians if you will, -not only differed about the inspiration of a certain passage, but also -about the interpretation of it. Can the conclusion of both, contradictory -as they are, be the "witness of the Spirit"? As we expected, this chapter -is the weakest in the book. Let us give the author's argument: "But while -divine revelation can have but one true meaning, nothing can be more -certain than that, being a message from the Heavenly Father to his erring -and sinful creatures, it must have a power of adaptation to each and all of -them in particular which, from the very nature of the case, forbids any -exhaustive or authoritative interpretation of its contents." We confess we -are not able to put this in plain English. Let us analyze it, however, and -see what propositions it contains: 1st. Any given inspired revelation can -have but one true meaning. 2d. This inspired revelation is given as a -message of truth to the human race by the God of truth. 3d. This inspired -revelation is necessarily of such a character that it can be made to mean -anything according to the power of discernment in the individual; and -hence, 4th. No one can even be sure which interpretation is the true one. -If these absurd propositions are not contained in the quotation we have -given, we humbly acknowledge that we have learned the English language in -vain. We knew that the author must break down on this subject, and he has -most thoroughly. How one can escape the necessity of an authoritative power -of interpretation of the Scripture it is impossible for us to divine. How -_can_ two contradictory interpretations be true? How _can_ any -man in his senses believe that the Spirit of God witnesses to two -propositions, one of which gives the lie to the other? But, deny an -authoritative power of interpretation to which all men must bow, how can I -ever know that my interpretation is true and that my brother's is false? To -attempt a compromise, such as the author suggests, that each interpretation -is true for each man, is too absurd to demand a moment's consideration. -Truth is truth not because I see it, but as it is, whether I see it or not, -and the man who rejects it when it is presented to his intelligence is -either a knave or a fool. Two and two are four whether I agree to it or -not, and no possible interpretation of the process of addition can change -its truth; nor is there any loophole except that of insanity which would -ever allow me to be excused for asserting that the product of twice two was -five and not four. - -It is certainly amusing to see this author refuting himself, as he -frequently does. To confide the right interpretation of Scripture to an -organized authority is to vest the final decision as to what the book says -in man. So he argues. Yet he tells us in the same breath that each -individual man is his own lawful interpreter. Does the author think that we -are simple enough to believe, with all the jarring, clashing sects which -have sprung out of this individual interpretation of the Bible before our -eyes a principle, too, which furnishes the sceptic with the means of -wresting its words to his own destruction--that, if each man interpret it -for himself, the final decision in each particular case is any less human -than the unanimous decision which a body, such as the Catholic Church is, -gives without variation for nineteen centuries? -{793} -This gratuitous assumption about the "interior witness of the Spirit" is -cant, not argument; for where does the individual find any assurance that -each and every man will be so assisted? Experience proves directly the -contrary. But, says our author, all these quarrels about the truths taught -by the Bible are not due to the Bible itself, but to the sectarian -divisions of Christianity, who each and all impose their own interpretation -on their members. This will not do. As long as the principle of -authoritative interpretation was upheld, as it is alone in the Catholic -Church, there was no quarrelling about the doctrines or morals inculcated -by the Holy Scriptures. The interpretation was but one. It was only when -the author's pet principle came into vogue, which was the apple of discord -borne by the tree of the Reformation, that men began to quarrel and dispute -about what the Bible taught. The wily sceptic with the Bible placed in his -hands, accompanied by a pious assurance that he will be guided in its -interpretation by the interior witness of the Spirit, will only laugh in -his sleeve at your simplicity. He will find in it just what pleases him, -and who has the right to accuse him of not following the witness of the -Spirit? Who finds insuperable difficulties in the sacred record? Who has -discovered, as they imagine, contradictory passages in it? Who come to the -conclusion that there is one God of the patriarchs, another God of the -Jews, and a third of the Christian? Not the Catholic Church or her doctors, -but the Protestant sects with their Colensos, their Essayists and -Reviewers, and flippant commentators. The Catholic Church finds no -difficulties or contradictions in the text of Scripture in any portion that -relates to doctrine or morals. Her interpretation is uniform and harmonious -from the first page of Genesis to the last words of the Apocalypse. -Difficulties there are, but they are only historical and of minor moment, -which affect in no way the unity of the sacred writings as the revealed -word of God. All attempts which have been made of late by Protestants to -discredit the inspiration of the Bible on the ground that these historical -difficulties are of such a nature as to render the record untrustworthy, -have signally failed. The most that has been proved, even by the most -captious critics, is, that in the recital of certain events the text is -obscure, and leaves many things untold and unexplained. - -The tone of the writer when speaking of the Catholic Church is, on the -whole, pretty fair, but it seems impossible for a Protestant to write on -religious subjects without either committing some egregious blunder when we -are concerned, or inserting some piece of calumny or of wilful -misrepresentation. We note an instance of this in the letter which forms an -introduction to the body of the work. Referring to the hope expressed by -the reluctant sceptic that "one day we shall have forms of public devotion -sufficiently aesthetic to gratify the religious sentiment, without -involving dogmas that lead only to dispute," he adds: "You will perhaps be -surprised if I tell you that I think this very possible. But, believe me, -it will only be when Christendom, so long apostate, has, in retribution for -her abominations, became absolutely atheistic. That a tendency of this kind -manifests itself, from time to time, in Rome, especially among the Jesuits, -has been noticed by devout Catholics, and is regarded by them with grief -and anxiety." (P. 45.) - -This is the style of lying (for what he says of the Jesuits is, we hardly -need say, wholly untrue) that disgraces the religious writings of our -opponents almost without exception. What does it mean? Simply this: "I -fear, my dear, reluctant sceptic, that you are hungering after ritualism, -which the Catholic Church possesses in beautiful harmony with all her -dogmas. -{794} -But don't look that way, or examine her claims upon your mind or religious -sentiment, for the Catholic Church herself is becoming atheistic, as is -shown by the atheistical tendencies of the Jesuits in Rome, and -(_aside_--to make the lie more plausible I will say) this tendency has -been noticed by devout Catholics, and is regarded by them with grief and -anxiety." We can do nothing but cry shame upon such wretched and base -subterfuges to withdraw the attention of sincere minds from an honest -examination of the Catholic faith. - -We blush for their unscrupulous and persistent system of misrepresentation, -which quietly ignores alike our indignant denials and appeals to be heard; -but we do not fear for the final result. All blows aimed at the Rock of -Truth will only recoil with deadly force upon the aggressor. Her beauty -will come out untarnished after every attempt at defilement; her purity and -sanctity no defamation can long obscure; her divine truth is proof against -the machinations and deceit of the father of lies and his children. Not in -vain has the inspired prophet said of her: "No weapon that is formed -against thee shall prosper, and every tongue that resisteth thee in -judgment thou shall condemn." She is the divinely appointed exponent of -God's word to man, whether written or not. "He that heareth you, heareth -me," and her exposition has been uniform, harmonious, and consistent -throughout; while the sects, left to their own fanciful interpretation of -the only word which they have acknowledged as authoritative, present a -lamentable picture of dissension and disbelief--"As children tossed to and -fro, and carried about by every wind of doctrine." - ------- - - From the French of Augustin Chevalier. - - Decimated. - - I. - -It was seven in the evening when we arose from the table, where the -conversation had for an hour or more run on the civil war which had just -desolated Germany. General Bourdelaine, a tall, wiry specimen of the -_ancien officier_, whom no one would imagine to be verging upon his -eighty-fourth year, and who very probably will in the year one thousand -eight hundred and eighty-eight celebrate the eighty-second anniversary of -his leaving the military school in 1806, invited us for coffee into the -study where ordinarily none but his most intimate friends are admitted; for -the general, although on the retired list since 1845, has not yet begun to -seek the repose of inactivity, and I have seen in that study of his an -entire series of strategical plans (afterward published by the minister of -war) of the principal battles of Napoleon in Champagne against the allied -forces. - -The study is large, although it seems small, so filled is every piece of -furniture, shelf, and hook with coins, arms, plans, papers, portraits, -busts, statuettes in marble and in bronze, books, globes, and drawing -instruments, and all these not in absolute disorder, but in an apparent -confusion which the general finds very convenient, inasmuch as everything -is within reach. - -{795} - -It was not the first time I had been there. For the first time, however, on -this particular evening, my eyes fell upon a plain boxwood frame hung on -the wall opposite the chimney-piece, in a recess formed by two large -book-cases. A brilliant point in the centre, which reflected the light of -the lamp, attracted my attention. It was the enamel of a cross of the -Legion of Honor, to which was attached, under the glass, a large band of -crape which stretched to the four corners of the frame. On the left of the -frame, on the outside, hung a huge silver watch, and on the right the -golden acorn of a sword-knot. - -The daughter of the general entered at this moment, followed by a servant -bearing coffee and all the accessories upon a tray. There were now five of -us in the room: the general, his daughter and his son-in law, a government -clerk, and myself. Each one began in silence to discuss the smoking coffee; -when the general, whose glance had unconsciously taken the same direction -as mine, suddenly exclaimed: - -"What a horrible thing war is! I did not enter the service until the time -had come when men no longer went forth to meet the enemy through -patriotism, but moved merely by the desire of winning rank or fortune, or -by the love of glory and honor. I was present at some frightful butcheries -and routs still more frightful; I have seen nearly all the miracles of the -emperor's genius, and I bore my part in the reverses fickle fortune -inflicted upon him. Well, after all, what did it amount to? The fortune of -war is one of the chances of the trade. You conquer or are conquered, kill -or are killed. The ranks close up, and then--room for the bravest or most -favored, the most skilful or the luckiest! But to be forced to fire upon -your own men; to be compelled to decimate pitilessly your own brave -companions; to kill in cold blood excellent soldiers, whose only crime was -a single day's mutiny, but whose example might risk the discipline and -safety of the entire army; to kill, I say, men whom the very intoxication -of victory led to believe that their fault would go unpunished; men we -sorely needed; this, this is most fearful and saddest of all; this it is -that still makes my old heart bleed more than fifty years after it -happened; and when my thoughts revert to it, even though conscience remain -tranquil, something very like remorse pursues me." - -"It seems, then, general," I said, "that yonder cross and crape recall -cruel memories." - -He put down his cup without replying, filled a small glass with cognac and -swallowed it at one gulp. - -"Have you finished the notes I wished you to make from Jomini and -Vandoncourt?" - -"Yes, _mon général_." - -"Very good; give them me. And now service for service. I will confide to -you an episode in my military life of which you may make what use you think -proper. I authorize you to do so." - -And General Bourdelaine thereupon related what follows. - - - II. - -My rank in the service dates from October, 1805. Jena and Austerlitz won me -my epaulettes of _sous-lieutenant_. In 1807 I made the Polish -campaign, and in 1808 the Spanish. The following year I was recalled to -Germany, and saw Ratisbon and Wagram. Napoleon after the battle halted in -front of my regiment to learn the names of those who had distinguished -themselves. - -"All did," cried the colonel; "but, if your majesty will permit me, I would -especially recommend the Lieutenant Bourdelaine to your favor." - -The emperor looked at me. - -"You come from Saint-Cyr?" - -"Yes, sire." - -"How many campaigns?" - -"Three." - -"And still a lieutenant." - -"I have had no chance to rise before this." - -"Which do you prefer, the cross or promotion?" - -"Promotion, sire." - -{796} - -My reply was not that of a courtier. But he loved the young men of his -schools, and those, above all, who, like me, had not awaited the end of -their course before becoming officers. - -"Ah! you prefer promotion." - -"Sire, they say that things are not going well in Spain since your majesty -left there. Send me thither; give me a company, and I will win death or the -cross." - -"Very well." - -I received the company I sought, not, however, in a French, but in an -Italian regiment. I was ordered to Arragon in November, 1810, and made part -of the army commanded by Suchet. My colonel, San-Polo, received me warmly. - -"You will find more than one of your countrymen in my regiment," said he; -"and you had better have them give an account of your men. I warn you that -they are very devils. You must be vigilant and firm; just but inflexible; -if not, you will find yourself exposed to strange surprises, and I be put -to the necessity of punishing you." - -The colonel was no false prophet. Those Italians are terrible soldiers. -Rash, useful principally for an assault or _coup-de main_, never -flinching under fire, but, once out of it, quarrelsome, intractable and -given to pillaging, ours, I confess, more than once seemed to sack and -destroy for the mere pleasure of doing so. I can yet see the comical though -moving scene which took place in Burgos, where my battalion, in 1808, -boiled their pots with all the mandolines and guitars they could find in -the city, notwithstanding the despair of the inhabitants, who hastened to -bring them coals and wood. But the soup, seasoned with jokes and bursts of -laughter, seemed to them the better for it. - -Before I return to my story, a few words on the situation of the army of -Arragon. - -General Suchet had taken one after another the towns of Mequinenza; on the -southern confines of the province of Huesca; Lareda, in Lower Catalonia, to -the north-west of Mequinenza; and Tortosa, south of Lerida, at the -extremity of the province of Tarragona. He thus commanded part of the -rivers Ebro, the Segre, and the Cinca; and, moreover, the capture of those -cities had enabled him to collect a complete park of siege artillery at -Tortosa. Unfortunately, the commandant of Figuera having allowed himself to -be surprised in Upper Catalonia, our forces there were compelled to fall -back toward Girona, and the Spanish General Campoverde, beaten before -Figueras by Baraguay d'Hilliers, had profited by our mishap, not only to -rally his troops, but also to annoy our magazines and communications. -Therefore, although he had received orders from the emperor, on the 10th of -March, to invest Tarragona, whose capture, completing our occupation of the -principality of Catalonia, would have opened the road to Valentia to us, -General Suchet did not yet dare attempt an enterprise of such importance. -The task of keeping the two districts of Mora and Alcuniz in subjection-- -the first in Lower Catalonia, to the north of Tortosa, and the second in -Arragon to the north-west of Mequinenza, and in the province of Ternel-- -paralyzed his forces. His artillery, too, had been retarded. In short, -instead of an effective force of over forty thousand men, which the -junction of the army of Arragon with that of Catalonia should have formed, -he had not more than thirty battalions at his service. - -You are not a soldier, and you do not understand how even the lowest -officer racks his head over the probabilities of some approaching -expedition, and with what feverish impatience the men in the ranks await -the signal of departure. Headquarters were established at Lareda, and -magazines already were placed at Reus, Monblanch, and Alcobar, to the north -and west of Tarragona; but it was reported that an English fleet under -Admiral Adams was preparing to re-provision the last-named city, and to -interrupt our communications by transporting to our rear the troops of -Campoverde and Sarsfield by the mouths of the Ebro. Our park of siege -artillery remained motionless at Tortosa, and as yet Suchet had not begun -to move. - -{797} - -I was at Mora, where my battalion was to remain, if the jokers about camp -were to be believed; an absurd rumor, for wherever a vigorous blow was to -be struck the Italians never failed to come in for their share. I had -formed a close friendship with Lieutenant Polidoro, a reckless individual, -but one of the best-hearted fellows in the service. He was from Milan, and -had commenced life as a choir-boy. A _reverendissimo_, almost unknown -to him, was in the habit of sending him from time to time fifty -_scudi_ by way of pocket-money. The day he received this little -remittance was a gala-day for the whole battalion. Wine flowed through the -camp. Not a man was forgotten. The next day he was without a _sou_, -but he had had his fun, and drunk many times to the health of Monsignor -Capellini, as he called his friend. - -His father was unknown to him, and often would he cry, twirling his shako -on his sword, when asked why he did not assume the paternal cognomen: - -"Why should I recognize an old fellow who shows so little pride in having a -grenadier of my height for a son?" - -The gayety of Polidoro, the friendship of his comrades for him, the -attachment of his men, whose enthusiasm was excited by his bravery and -liberality, inspired me, at last, with the most unlimited confidence in -him; and, well satisfied with never having to inflict the slightest -punishment, thanks to the excellent reports he always brought me of the -company, I placed matters of mere discipline entirely in his hands. - -Suddenly, one fine morning, at roll-call, not one of my men, with the -exception of the Sous-Lieutenant Brocard--a Frenchman like myself--appeared -on the parade-ground. He, sad and crest-fallen, informed me that our -company had filed away during the night toward Batea, to the north of -Casserras, on the Arragon frontier. At the same time he handed me a letter -addressed to me by Polidoro. Judge of my astonishment when I cast my eye -upon its contents: - - "Captain: It is certainly an ill proceeding on my part to leave Mora, - with your whole company, without first informing you of our intention. - Life in Mora is not very lively, and our men were growing shockingly - tired of it. I am responsible for their health, and found myself forced - to adopt violent measures to preserve it. We are going a league from here - to Batea, where they say good wine abounds. It is even reported that - there is a guerilla roving through the mountains, and that he has been - joined by some disbanded soldiers of Sarsfield and Campoverde. What a - chance for fun! We will thus be enabled to indulge in a little diversion - while waiting for the march on Tarragona. I do not ask you to put - yourself at the head of our expedition. I suppose, even, that, if you - were ordered to bring us back, your honor would only permit you to speak - to us through the throats of muskets. Be good enough, however, to advise - our brave colonel of our departure, and tell him that, whatever may - happen, we are all devoted to him, for life and for death, and that each - one of us (I was always remarkable for foresight) has ten rounds of - cartridge at his service. If we are let alone, be assured that the entire - company, including your humble servant, will be en route for Lareda at - the first roll of the drum. - "Your faithful friend, - "The Lieutenant Polidoro." - -This letter filled me with consternation. I felt that I had been guilty of -weakness and negligence. I was not only puzzled; I suspected perfidy, -treason. I did not yet understand the singular forms which insubordination -often takes among Italian troops. The Russian soldier is little more than a -savage; the German, when he quarrels with his officers in the field, -becomes gross and brutal; the Frenchman pushes familiarity to insolence; -the Spaniard heroically disbands, placing every reverse to the account of -the ignorance or cowardice of his officers, and then sets about making head -individually against the enemy in some defile of his mountains; the -Englishman shows himself, in war as in everything else, a close calculator, -weighing the _pros_ and _cons_ long together, and, above all -others, complains of the insufficiency or bad quality of his provisions, as -witness the mutiny of the fleet in the reign of George III., when it became -necessary to hang an admiral, and which was only suppressed by the coolness -of Pitt. -{798} -But, when the Italian mutinies, he does it with incredible niceness, and, -unless he has some vengeance to execute, (which he will carry out with -uncommon ferocity,) he remains an artist to the last. - -"_Corbleu!_" cried I to Brocard. "We are in a pretty box; exposed, -too, to the ridicule of our comrades. And I thought this Polidoro my -friend!" - -"And he is your friend, captain; doubt it not," replied Brocard; "only you -have not yet formed a true idea of the audacious recklessness and -impulsiveness of these Italians. All this would be but a pleasantry, -without evil results, if the necessity of maintaining discipline at the -outset of a new campaign did not give the affair importance; and what makes -it worse is, that they say the colonel since his return an hour ago has -been making preparations to repel an attack from Campoverde. He is furious -against you, and wishes to have a private interview with you." - -Shame and anger almost choked me. I was beside myself with rage, and, if at -that moment a man had but given me a look of ridicule, I would have run him -through the body. - -"I come to receive your orders, colonel," said I, as I entered San-Polo's -quarters. "I confess that I deserve no consideration. You told me what I -had to expect. Punish me. I ask of you but one favor--that you would permit -me to go alone to those mutineers and bring them back." - -"What I hear is then true, sir," replied San-Polo, whose appearance of -concentrated anger boded me no good. But, having given me this thrust, he -added, softening a little: - -"Listen to me, Bourdelaine, notwithstanding your fault in allowing Polidoro -to gain such a hold upon the company, you are nevertheless an officer whom -I esteem both for head and heart, and I heard a very flattering account of -you before you joined the regiment. I am sincerely sorry for you, and that -rogue of a Polidoro has so bewitched the men that after all you are not so -inexcusable." - -"Thanks, my colonel." - -"But," continued San-Polo, "we must lay aside such considerations in camp. -You had the want of tact to prefer a grade, when the emperor offered you -with his own hand the Cross of the Legion. That was in his eyes a fault -which, be assured, he will not soon forget, and I am sure that you would -have received both if you had chosen the cross." - -I bowed my head, but did not reply. - -"Your conduct after that, if you wished to rise, should have been -irreproachable, so that your mistake, which seemed to the emperor a piece -of youthful stupidity, might have changed its guise and shone forth as the -generous impulse of a soul born to command. - -"I speak not now, captain, as your superior officer, but as your friend. -Speak privately to Lieutenant Brocard. Present yourself to these mutineers, -and let a bloody example recall them to duty. I have full power from the -commanding general to manage my Italians as I think proper. You will -decimate your company." - -I started, horror-stricken. - -"You have your orders, sir. Now, no delay or pity. Remember that prompt and -vigorous action is necessary not only to reestablish your reputation, but -to replace upon those men the yoke of discipline, so rashly broken. Under -our present _régime_ little is said and less written about army -affairs, and the news of the insubordination of a handful of Italians in an -obscure corner of the peninsula will scarcely reach the emperor's ears. I -will see that it is kept out of the bulletins. It is too small a matter for -headquarters to be troubled about, and in ten days all will be the same as -if nothing of the kind ever happened. Well! you have heard me; what more do -you desire?" asked San-Polo, astonished at my immobility and silence. - -{799} - -"Pardon, _mon colonel!_" I replied, with many misgivings. "How can we -decimate men of whom we have such immediate need before the enemy?" And I -showed him Polidoro's letter. - -He read it through rapidly, and shrugged his shoulders; but, when he came -to the part where the lieutenant, while protesting his own devotion and -that of his men for their colonel, boasted nevertheless of his foresight in -furnishing each man with ten rounds of ammunition, San-Polo cried out, a -passing smile lighting up his face for a moment: - -"Poor fellow! it is a pity, for he has the stuff soldiers are made of in -him. Unshrinking under fire, fascinating and raising the spirits of all -around him by his good humor, always ready, full of resources, yet -ridiculing glory and fortune. God grant that this trick do not cost him too -dear. What is the effective force of the company?" - -"Ninety-nine men in all, with the officers and drummer." - -"Very well; then it is reduced to ninety-six, since you and Brocard are not -in the affair, and the drummer, who is but a boy, does not count. This -letter will not modify my instructions. You will draw by lot four men and a -corporal for the firing party, and one man to dig the grave; ninety will -remain--nine to be shot; it is enough. As to Polidoro, if his stars should -favor him, you will put him under arrest for two weeks. I will attend to -him hereafter if necessary." - -I turned with a heavy heart to leave the tent. - -"Ah! one word more," said the colonel: "In case any chance should put you -on the track of the guerilla who has been seen between Casserras and Batea, -drag out the execution to the greatest possible length, without, however, -letting it seem that you do so. I love those good-for-nothings after all, -and would to God that a brush with the enemy may deliver them from their -scrape, for they would fight as they always do, and we would have a good -excuse for indulgence. Be easy, even if you find yourself surrounded by the -Spaniards, and open fire on them boldly, for I have taken my measures, and -help will be at hand. _Au revoir_, captain, and fortune favor you!" - -Brocard and I immediately set out for Batea. It was yet early morning, and -the road was almost deserted. We could not perceive in the direction of -Casserras a single trace that might remind us of the recent passage of a -body of armed men. It seemed scarcely probable that the guerillas would -dare return toward Batea, which was at furthest a league to the north-west. - -On the road I confided to my comrade the cruel mission with which we were -charged, and as I had never seen a military execution, and had never -expected to see so horrible a one as this, the slaying of every tenth man -in my own company, the conversation ran on the best mode of conducting the -business in which we were engaged so as to gain time, as the colonel had -recommended. - -"Oh!" said Brocard, "I was 'decimated' my self once. It was in Portugal, -under Junot, for a trick our battalion played the commandant--a lion under -fire, but an ill-natured dog. We gave him a free bath in the Tagus. I was -then only a corporal. They commenced by surrounding and disarming the -mutineers; then, if any officers were found in the number, their names were -proclaimed aloud, or they were degraded. Then the ranks were broken, and we -were aligned in single file, each man taking his place according to chance. -A sergeant, drawn by lot and blindfolded, then approached the line, and, -starting from the first man he chanced to touch, without including him, -counted off ten, twenty, thirty, until he reached the end of the line, when -he continued in the other direction, commencing again with the man he first -touched, and if that poor fellow happened to be the tenth, or twentieth, or -thirtieth, psit! his doom was clear." - -"Great heavens!" thought I, "how terribly cool he takes it!" - -{800} - -"While the counting went on," continued my imperturbable -_sous-officier_, "a roll of the drum accompanied each tenth man as he -stepped out; he was led to the edge of the trench dug for his grave; a -sufficient amount of lead lodged in his head or breast, and his affair was -ended. You see that much time is not lost, and the business even becomes -amusing sometimes; for every man's pride is up, and he chats, jokes, -laughs, appoints a _rendezvous_ under ground a year, a month, or -perhaps only a day off; and all the while the regimental band regales you -with the merriest symphonies, the most alluring marches!" - -"You would not make a mockery of death!" cried I, interrupting him. - -"Mockery!" he returned. "Diable! we won't have much chance to do so here. -We haven't yet even disarmed our friends, captain. San-Polo evidently -honors us both with his particular esteem, to send us two alone to decimate -more than eighty jokers, each of whom carries ten rounds of ammunition to -answer our polite proposition with." - -"Nevertheless, the enterprise amuses you a little, does it not?" - -"Humph! whether a man leaves his skin here or elsewhere, what matters it? -although it is disagreeable to be sent out of the world by your old -comrades, your friends at the bivouac, fellows whose elbows you are -accustomed to feel in the ranks. But, after all, those fellows haven't -treated us right; that is a consolation." - -"But the other proceeding the colonel mentioned," said I--"the drawing ---you have not explained that." - -"Ah! I can only teach you what I know myself; though I was something more -than a mere amateur scholar. I have heard that they sometimes mix up the -names in a helmet or shako, and shoot the man that owns every tenth name -that comes out. But, _ma foi!_ that way is shorter than the other, -but, if it suits you better, you may use it. H st!" [sic] - -He stopped short in the middle of the road and brought the musket he had -brought with him from Mora to his shoulder, as a bullet whistled by our -ears, and a thread of white smoke rose from a ravine some little distance -off; a moment after, a tall, wild-looking man, enveloped in a long cloak, -and wearing a countryman's shoes and a red woollen cap, sprang toward the -mountain side, where in the twinkling of an eye he disappeared. - -"Don't fire!" I cried, as Brocard was about to pull trigger; "you will give -those wretches the alarm. Wait until they attack us at Batea. That fellow -will simplify our business, and the colonel will be delighted. Forward-- -gallop! Remember the mission we have to fulfil." - -Ten minutes later we were in Batea. The company had stacked their arms -about a hundred paces from the mountain, and had spread themselves through -the village. The drummer alone, a boy of fifteen, stood guard over the -arms, under the protection of some old _grognards_, who, -cooler-blooded than their comrades, walked leisurely about, smoking their -pipes. - -I rode straight to the drummer, and, without dismounting, said: - -"Beat the recall, Zanetto, I am in haste." - -The smokers at this order approached us, and stared at us with an abashed -air. The most insolent of them gave the military salute, through force of -habit, apparently. But they seemed thoughtful, twisted their mustaches -without speaking, and continued to smoke. - -Zanetto, uneasy as the others, rose, hooked on his drum, and replied by a -prolonged roll, which did not cease until the whole company stood behind -their stacks. - -"What is all this noise about? Are you a fool, drummer?" cried Polidoro, -coming up last of all, at a run, from the further end of the village, and -carrying a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other. - -{801} - -The sight of two horsemen redoubled his speed, and when he reached us, he -could scarcely gasp, in his astonishment and want of breath: - -"You, Bourdelaine! You here! Glad to see you, _caro mio_. Welcome! We -scarcely expected so agreeable a surprise. What can we do for you, captain? -Will you try a glass of rum?" - -I spurred my horse toward Polidoro, and, with a sudden blow breaking the -glass and bottle he held, said briefly and sternly: - -"Your sword, lieutenant!" - -Polidoro turned pale, and, recoiling a couple of paces, said in a husky -voice: - -"My sword! Was it to demand my sword that you came from Mora, you and your -countryman Brocard?" - -"We come to decimate you. The colonel has ordered it." - -And I dismounted, placing myself in their power, to prove to the mutineers -the fixedness of my resolve to carry out my orders or die in the attempt. - -The idea seemed, however, to excite their mirth. - -"Decimate us!" cried one. - -"Beautiful!" laughed another. - -And cries of "Prodigious!" "What a farce!" "Whom will he do it with?" "He -hasn't even a corporal's guard!" rang on every side. The men left the -stack's of arms and began to gather round us with menacing looks and -gestures. Brocard threw himself among the most furious, but his words -availed nothing to restrain them. The situation was becoming critical. - -Suddenly a thought struck me. I signed to Zanetto to beat his drum, so that -its continued roll might drown their voices, and the more desperate be thus -prevented from urging on those who hesitated. - -Anything which brings the habits of discipline to the minds of old soldiers -acts with wonderful power. Before the roll of the drum ceased, every man -had regained his place; the tumult was ended and quiet reigned. - -"We are come to decimate you," I continued, coldly and sternly as before, -"and we are alone. Do you ask why? Because the colonel wishes the execution -to be secret; he would not have the company dishonored before their -comrades--dishonored for having turned their backs when all was ready to -march upon the enemy." - -"But we did not do so!" cried one of the men. - -"Silence! The captain is right," replied several. - -"Then Polidoro deceived us; he told us the captain would protect us," said -a young soldier. - -Their tone had already changed. It was no longer hostile. - -"I!" cried Polidoro. "Did I ever say aught to make you doubt the captain's -honor?" - -"No! no!" cried voice after voice. "It is our fault. Let us suffer the -penalty! Decimate us, captain!" cried several, "and let us have it over as -soon as may be. We are ready." - -"Lieutenant," I continued, advancing to Polidoro, "I demand your sword." - -He moved his hand to the buckle of his belt as if to take it off, but the -struggle was too great for his proud heart; his youthful blood was in arms, -and, carried away by passion, he shouted hoarsely: - -"Then come and take it!" - -And drawing it from its sheath, he threw himself on guard. - -"Bravo, lieutenant! Let him come and take it!" cried a voice at his side. - -"Who spoke then?" I asked, feigning ignorance of the man. - -"I!" cried an old soldier; one of the _grognards_ of the company. - -"Very well, Matteo; I will attend to you presently." - -There was no time for consideration; I at once fell on guard myself. -Polidoro awaited my attack with his blade low, after the manner of the -Italians, but at my first lunge, breaking down his parade before we had -even crossed swords, whether it was that remorse for his act prevented his -exerting his usual skill or through unlucky mischance on his part, I -disarmed him, catching his guard on the point of my sword and forcing his -weapon from his hand. - -{802} - -"_Maleditto!_" he exclaimed angrily, blushing with shame and wrath, -and turning to Zanetto, who could not forbear laughing at his mishap, with -a blow of his heavy boot, he crushed the drum to pieces, and, tearing off -his epaulettes, mingled with the ranks. - -"Lieutenant, I have not degraded you," I said softly. "It is even possible -that, if chance favors you, I may restore your sword." - -This indulgence shown to Polidoro, whose guilt was aggravated by an attack -on his superior officer, made a greater impression than severity could. The -fascination he exercised over the men, their belief in him, his prestige -were considerably lessened. I felt that I was master of the troop. - -"As for you," I said to Matteo, "as a punishment for your insolence, you -must dig the trench." - -"I, my captain?" - -"You." - -"Shoot me first, captain, I implore you," sobbed Matteo, pale with shame -and despair. - -He was one of the oldest and best soldiers in the company; his mustache -almost white, and his face seamed with scars. He thought himself degraded -before his comrades, and did not see that my aim was to save him. - -"Not so," I replied. "Go find a pickaxe and spade in the village and -quickly!" - -"You are very hard on me, captain." - -"Obey: no more words!" - -All this while the _sous-lieutenant_ Brocard, who guessed my purpose, -was writing the names of the company upon slips of paper, which he threw -into a shako. - -"But that is not the way it is done." cried Polidoro, in a bantering tone. -"Permit me to instruct you." - -"Silence in the ranks!" I cried. - -"But we will never get through at this rate, captain." - -"I am not responsible to you, sir. It is the order of the colonel. Now, -come hither," said I to the drummer, "and draw four names for the firing -party." - -"Am I not included, captain," returned Zanetto, drawing himself up proudly -to his full height. - -"Boy, you do not count," said Brocard. - -"It seems to me that I counted before the enemy," replied the boy. - -"Be still, child!" cried Polidoro. "The drummer's duty is to follow the -company." - -"That is true," said an old _grognard_. "Come, Zanetto, stick your -hand into the bag, but don't draw my name." - -But it was the old man's name that he drew. - -"The grenadier Sampierri!" - -"I never had any luck," growled Sampierri, stamping angrily upon the -ground. - -He took up his musket. - -"The grenadiers Nicolo, Mordini, Ruspone!" continued Brocard. - -Matteo, while this was going on, had returned from the village, and was -silently digging a trench to our left, about two hundred paces from the -mountain, where the earth was soft and offered but little resistance. - -"Ha! Matteo! there are ninety of us," cried Corporal Campana; "nine men to -mount guard underground today. Make it wide enough, my old friend." - -"A corporal is wanted to command the firing party," said Brocard, "and I -have mixed up all the names again in the shako." - -"Well, let it be Campana," I replied. - -"Me, _mon capitaine?_ What have I done more than my comrades? Why -choose me?" - -"What have you done? Have you not three chevrons? Are you not the oldest -corporal? You should have set the example of subordination. Go!" - -"So be it, then," said the corporal gloomily. "Come attention, firing -party!" - -He marched to the trench at the head of his four grenadiers. - -{803} - -"Attention!" cried I. "Draw the names; the tenth--" - -"Enough!" said Zanetto; "let him beware. The business is becoming less -amusing, captain." - -He drew nine slips successively, which Brocard did not read, so that the -suspense continued to the end. The tenth he held up. - -"The Sergeant Gasparini!" - -"Good! This is the day of the grognards," said Gasparini, making the -military salute. "May I embrace Zanetto, _mon capitaine?_" - -"Do as you will," I said; "I would rather be a hundred feet underground -than here." - -"Thanks, captain. We all see how this business grieves you. Thanks!" - -He bent over the drummer, and the tears, spite of his proud endeavors to -restrain them, dropped on his gray mustache. - -"Here; take this for thy trouble, my boy," he said, giving the drummer his -silver watch. - -He dashed the tears from his eyes shamefacedly, and with a steady step -marched to the edge of the trench. - -"Ready!" cried Corporal Campana. - -"Aim! Fire!" cried Gasparini. - -A flash and report followed, and the old sergeant fell dead on his face in -the trench, where Matteo pushed him with his foot to the place where he was -to rest. - -Zanetto continued, drawing from eleven to nineteen. Brocard, still without -reading them, tore them up one after another. Twenty reached, he took the -slip, lifted it above his head, and sobbed, rather than spoke, in his -endeavors to conceal his emotion: - -"The Sergeant-Major Gambetta!" - -It was the best instructed under-officer perhaps in the regiment; calm, -well knowing his duties, laborious--so useful, in fact, in the humble post -he held that his superiors through pure selfishness had never proposed him -for promotion. He was forty years of age at least, had received the cross -as far back as 1805, and with the money of his pension relieved many a -little want of his comrades. - -"Ah! poor Gasparini!" he cried with a sort of mournful merriment; "if today -is the day of the old growlers, it is also the day of sergeants. What is -the matter, _mon capitaine?_" said he as he passed me. "You seem to be -in trouble." - -He was not far wrong. I was in despair. My eyes were fixed upon the -mountain as if they would pierce through it, and at every changing shadow, -every breath of wind which sighed among the trees, my heart bounded -painfully with the hope that the long wished for guerilla was about making -his appearance on the heights. - -"Adieu, Zanetto! take my cross, I have no watch. Show yourself some day -worthy to wear it. May it be long ere we meet again, captain. God guard -you!" - -He crossed himself devoutly, and walked to the trench, his hands in his -pockets, bent one knee to the earth, and gave the word "Fire!" - -We heard a report; Gambetta, his head shattered by the bullets, rolled like -a lump of lead into the trench. - -"Will those beggarly Spaniards never appear?" said I to Brocard aside. "I -have had more than enough of this." - -"Hush!" replied Brocard. "You do not know them yet as well as I, who have -been in the peninsula since 1807. I have just discovered the whole band in -the declivity yonder before us. They are climbing along above, so as to -attack us in front and on both flanks at once. I have counted three hundred -muskets and carbines. We will have hot enough work in a few minutes." - -"God grant it! Continue, but more slowly, so that we need not kill any -more." - -Slowly, however, as he proceeded to tear up the names drawn, slowly as the -drawing went on, number thirty at length came forth. He lifted it up to -read the name, but remained for an instant silent. - -"Who? who?" resounded on all sides. - -{804} - -"To the devil with it! Let whom it concerns read it," cried Brocard, -flinging it upon the ground. - -"I will wager it is I," said Polidoro, springing forward to pick it up. -"Yes, it is indeed. The Lieutenant Polidoro!" - -"Did you not make a mistake, Zanetto?" asked I. "I think it is only -twenty-nine." - -"Yes, yes, captain, it is only twenty-nine," cried a soldier. "Don't, for -heaven's sake, decimate an officer." - -"_Corpo di Bacco_, do you take me for a fool?" shouted Polidoro. "I -counted them, and it is thirty. Come, come! Every one in his turn. No -joking! Your hand, Bourdelaine. You forgive me?" - -He had scarcely spoken when a signal shot was heard on the mountain, and -following upon it two fierce blazes of fire crashed on our right and left -and concealed our assailants in their thick smoke. - -It was indeed the guerilla band the colonel had spoken of, which, augmented -by some of Campoverde's men, whom the English had disembarked at the mouth -of the Ebro, had filed toward the mountain, going from Cacia, below -Tortosa, as far as Casserras, intending from that point to surprise us at -Mora. Learning that a company was at Batea, they halted on their way in the -hope of capturing us. - -At the crash of the discharge, Polidoro sprang forward like a lion. The -smell of battle seemed to intoxicate him. His eyes flashed fire, and his -face glowed with ardor. His was a true warrior-soul. - -"Captain," said he, "it is through my fault that the company is brought -into this danger; let it be mine to extricate it. Give me twenty men. I -know the country round, and this morning I discovered a little by-path -opening on a level space, from which we can turn the enemy's right. You -attack him in front; let Brocard see to his left, and in less than a -quarter of an hour all that rabble will be cut to pieces or dispersed. If I -remain alive, I will return and place myself at your disposal." - -"If you return alive," I replied, "the colonel will decide upon your case. -San-Polo foresaw this attack and ordered me not to push the execution -further. Here is your sword, Polidoro, but be not rash; the colonel will -not deprive himself, for any whim, of an officer with such a future as -yours before him." - -"I have no future, Bourdelaine," he returned gloomily. "I do not deceive -myself with false hopes. Preferment is closed against me. I will die at -least with honor, and bear with me the regret of my chief." - -Corporal Campana had returned with his four grenadiers during this -colloquy, and Matteo walked slowly in the rear. - -"Five men for the advance, and fifteen more for the lieutenant," I cried to -Brocard. - -"All right, captain! You hold the centre and I the right, deployed as -skirmishers is that it?" asked Brocard. - -"Right!" - -"And I?" said Matteo, confounded as Polidoro, advancing at a run to the -mountain, gained some distance up its declivity without being perceived by -the enemy. "Am I good for nothing, captain, but to bury my comrades?" - -"Thou old graybeard! March at the head of the column," I replied, "since -instead of awaiting us in their stronghold those fools have been silly -enough to come down to surround us. Thou seest I did not do ill to reserve -you for a better chance." - -"Much obliged!" he returned. "Then we are going to cool their hot blood, -captain?" - -The guerilla chief, not having perceived our movement, and there only being -fifty men at most before him, pressed confidently forward, never doubting -that he could easily compel us to lay down our arms. We waited until part -of his men had reached the foot of the mountain, and then we fell upon them -in a solid column, while Brocard, his men deployed as skirmishers, attacked -and drove back their left, and Polidoro, having gained his position, forced -their right to retreat, shooting down all who had not rejoined the main -body. -{805} -Suddenly I heard the drums beat the charge behind me. It was a company, led -by San-Polo himself, which had taken the Batea road, and so cut off the -advance-guard of the guerillas thrown forward toward Mora. - -The Spaniard is brave, obstinate, and sober; inured to privations and -fatigues. He will fight long and well behind a rock or a wall, but in the -open field he generally lacks steadiness, and is easily discouraged if he -meets an unforeseen resistance in an attack. He will disband to meet his -fellows at some other point and plan some new surprise--the only species of -warfare which he conducts well. This, indeed, is the result of that -provincial spirit of independence, of that character of individuality, -which so deeply penetrates the masses and forms the distinguishing -characteristic of the nation. - -The panic soon became general, and the village was filled with wounded and -dead. - -Those who fled from the fire of one party of our men were received upon the -bayonets of another, finding no outlet through which to make their escape; -about a hundred of the guerillas, however, succeeding in forcing their way -toward Casserras, scattering as they went, and giving us a few parting -shots. All the rest were taken. San-Polo forced his way to us, pitilessly -shooting down all who refused to yield. He soon joined us, and cast his -eyes toward the open trench. - -"Aha!" he cried, darting a look of intelligence to me; "you are cautious, -captain. You would not have the enemy know the number of your killed. How -many?" asked he in a low tone. - -"Two, _mon colonel_; the lot unfortunately fell upon Sergeants -Gasparini and Gambetta." - -San-Polo could not restrain a gesture of vexation. - -"And Polidoro?" - -"_Ma foi_, my colonel; he escaped well; we were going to shoot him -when the skirmish commenced. He is now upon the mountain, where I can vouch -he gave us some famous help." - -"He is here," said Brocard, "and in a sad condition. Here are his men -bringing him upon their muskets." - -When he reached us, Polidoro raised his head, not without great pain, and -lifting his still bantering glance to the face of San-Polo, who stood grave -and motionless, he cried with an attempt at his old gayety: - -"Hit, colonel, hit! I am sorry, my colonel, that you can no longer break or -even put me under arrest." - -"I will have chance enough to do both yet," replied San-Polo, with an -affected roughness which betrayed his anxiety to encourage the wounded -soldier. - -"O colonel! my account is closed this time," returned Polidoro. "Six -bullets through the body, and two of them at least through my lungs. 'Tis -enough for one, _mon colonel_." - -Then some long-banished remembrances seemed to return, and a sad smile -played over his features. - -"_Sancta Maria, mater Dei_." he continued, in a tone still tinged with -a sort of sorrowful gayety, "_ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc et in hora -mortis nostrae. Amen_." - -San-Polo threw himself from his horse, and pressed a flask of brandy to the -lips of the wounded lieutenant, holding him up in his arms for a moment to -help him to swallow a few drops. - -"How kind you are to me!" murmured the dying man, in a scarcely audible -voice; "you seem to think that, in spite of my follies, I was not so bad an -officer after all. Keep, I pray you, my colonel, my sword in remembrance of -me; only unfasten the sword-knot and give it to Bourdelaine. Ah! I wish you -would give Zanetto fifteen francs for--the drum--I broke." - -A cough interrupted him, and a bloody froth appeared upon his lips. His -features were pinched with pain; he gasped; his eyes grew glassy, and, -after a few slight convulsions, all that remained of Polidoro fell back in -the colonel's arms. - -{806} - -San-Polo took the lieutenant's sword, pulled the knot off, and hastily -handed it to me; then springing into the saddle he rode off at full gallop, -without speaking a word or even turning his head. - -"Quick, Brocard! Mount and accompany the colonel," I said. "You know how -dangerous those guerillas are even in a rout. I shall not need you until we -return to Mora." - - - III. - -"And now that I have ended," said the general after a pause, "let us talk, -if you please, about the rain and the weather. It is strange," he -continued, pressing his hand to his brow, "how all these memories return, -at the time when, thank God, our days of joy and trouble are nearly past." - -"Yours?" the government clerk hastened to reply. "You are good for twenty -years yet." - -There are some honest people who always speak thus to old men. - -"Good! very good!" growled the general, bending over the table to pour out -another wine-glass of cognac. "In twenty years I will be no more thought of -than if I had never lived. To the devil with wars and those who make them." - -While his daughter and son-in-law were lifting their voices in protest -against such an idea, I discreetly took up the lamp, and approached the -frame to examine it more closely. - -"These, very probably," I said, half to myself, "are the watch of the -grenadier Gasparini, the cross of the sergeant-major Gambetta, and -sword-knot of Lieutenant Polidoro." - -"Yes, yes," replied the general, without looking toward them; "I bought the -watch and the cross from the drummer Zanetto. Poor child! The first bullet -sent him to his account in the assault on Fort Olivo, the 29th of May, -before Tarragona. For goodness' sake, let it alone." - -I saw that my curiosity made him impatient, so I returned the lamp and took -up my hat to retire. - -"You are leaving us very soon, my friend," said the general. - -"You know, general, that I must be home by half-past nine." - -"Right. Duty before all. I hope you don't intend to put all I have said -upon paper." - -"You have authorized me to do so, general." - -"So be it, then; but upon one condition." - -"Name it." - -"That you will add nothing of your own to it, as most of you men of letters -do; and that you will not pervert my words." - -"I will try not to do so." - ------- - -{807} - - From The Month. - - Scenes From a Missionary Journey in South America. - - - I. Lisbon, St. Vincent, Pernambuco, Bahia. - - -Toward evening of the 12th of March we doubled Cape Finisterre, the -north-western extremity of Spain, and saw in the misty offing a very large -four masted iron screw steamer, homeward bound, and said to be from -Australia. We had but once seen the Spanish coast looming through the fog -several leagues off; but at sunrise on the 14th we forgot all the miseries -of the previous four days, as the sea was quite smooth, the weather -admirable, and a scene of unequalled beauty unrolled itself before our -eager gaze. We were entering the Tagus: on our left, at the river's mouth, -stood the castle of St. Julian, apparently not a very ancient or remarkable -structure. We had passed in the night, also on the left, the far-famed -wood-crowned hills and picturesque glens of Cintra, so beautifully sung by -Lord Byron in Childe Harold. Further on jutted into the stream the -yellow-walled old Moorish fortalice of Belem, so often depicted, and so -worthy of it. Its many lights and shadows, as the sunlight plays on its -richly sculptured front, give it a strangely quaint and old-world -appearance. Its garrison, a mere company or so, appeared to enjoy a -sinecure; for I beheld a single sentinel lazily pacing up and down a narrow -landing-place. Others were fishing with a rod and line, and a few more -washing in the stream their seemingly unique shirts, for they wore no other -clothing that I could see, save a pair of white canvas trowsers. This scene -I saw repeated a few weeks later in the Brazilian island of Sancta -Catharina, where a squad of black soldiers were washing their shirts and -trowsers in the waters of a small mountain stream. From the castle of Belem -the view eastward up the river is one of the most beautiful that can be -imagined, and seems at first fully to justify the pride of the Portuguese -lines: - - "Quem nâo tem visto Lisboa, - Nâo tem visto cousa boa." - -That is, he has not seen a beautiful sight who has not seen Lisbon. The -river, considerably narrowed at its extreme mouth, widens here very much, -and displays on its broad surface a forest of masts. On the left hand the -city rises from the water's edge up an amphitheatre of seven hills, house -upon house, church upon church, filling up an irregular semicircle of -considerable extent, and having for a frame the surrounding green heights, -whose tender spring verdure, here and there enlivened by the blooming -Judas-tree, [Footnote 299] agreeably contrasts with the dazzling whiteness -of most of the edifices. To the westward of the city sits the imposing mass -of the modern and yet unfinished royal palace of Ajuda; and beneath it, -near the waterside, an old convent and church, whose gray weather-beaten -walls seem to bid defiance to the mushroom structure above. This palace of -Ajuda will probably never be finished. The finances of that puny kingdom -are not, I imagine, in the most prosperous condition; and it would appear -that modern royalty is as little at ease in residences fashioned upon the -grandeur and magnificence of ancient days, as a beggar would be if he -suddenly became the owner and tenant of a nobleman's seat. - - [Footnote 299: A tree with pendulous bunches of pink flowers. It is - probably so called from its blooming about Passion-tide. Some say that - it was on a tree of this species that Judas hanged himself.] - -{808} - -On the southern side of the Tagus are to be seen scattered here and there -pleasantly enough among the green hills various white-walled -_quintas_, or country farm-houses and villas. There is also, facing -Lisbon, a small town of three or four thousand inhabitants. A little lower -down toward the sea, on the same side, is the new Lazaretto, or building -for quarantine--a certainly not very inviting abode, all white and yellow, -without a particle of verdure or a square inch of shade about it. The -harbor or bay, four or five miles wide, contains ships of almost every -nation; but chiefly British, for Portugal is now little better than a -colony or dependency of England. The Magdalena had no sooner cast anchor -than two of the respected clergy of the English college--the college _dos -Inglesinhos_, (of the dear English,) as the people call them--came on -board to welcome me. I accompanied them ashore, and visited the college, -situated on one of the highest spots of the city. On my way through the -custom-house I saw a piece of impertinence committed by one of the -underlings in the absence of his principal, which too well indicated the -little respect which is now paid to the holy see in that once so Catholic -kingdom. A secretary of the Brazilian nunciature, on his way to Rio, had -landed with a small bag containing despatches sent by Cardinal Antonelli to -the nuncio at Lisbon. Ambassadors' papers are privileged everywhere; -nevertheless, in spite of the secretary's remonstrances and mine, the said -underling broke open one of the sealed packets, and would doubtless have -proceeded further had not Padre Pedro, of the English college, at that -moment arrived, and threatened the insolent _douanier_ with the loss -of his place. I don't know if the nuncio took any notice of the affair; but -where could such a proceeding have taken place save in Lisbon, or perhaps -in Florence? - -Facing the harbor, in the Praça do Commercio, is a handsome bronze statue -of one of the former kings of Portugal, whose proud and commanding attitude -half recalled the times when Portugal was mistress of the seas, and her -adventurous navigators pioneered the way through unknown oceans to -discoveries of stupendous magnitude. - -The English fathers, the Revs. ----, showed me more than ordinary -politeness: one of them accompanied me to present sundry letters of -introduction I had brought with me to some notable personages of the -capital. I was very cordially received everywhere, and could have wished -that all the Portuguese resembled these worthy representatives of former -national greatness. The Marqueza de F----, among others, appeared to me the -model of a hidalgo's wife, full of grace and dignity, yet of amenity and -practical good sense. I was particularly struck with her fervid piety, -worthy of better times. At the house of the Marquess de L----, brother to -the Portuguese minister in London, I met the newly consecrated Bishop of -Oporto, who, to an ardent zeal and piety, joined the precious experience of -thirty years' apostolate in China as a Lazarist missionary. He has since -made his voice heard to some purpose in the upper house of the Lisbon -parliament, strenuously resisting and combating the antichristian measures -of the Louié ministry. - -Some of the churches, of course, I visited, as far at least as the -shortness of time allowed. They bore for the most part traces of the -magnificence and gorgeous piety of other days; but were generally ill kept, -and but too empty of worshippers. The chapter mass was being chanted when I -entered the Primatial church; there were very few people assisting; near -the door stood some poor women with dead babes laid on benches; they did -not seem to be noticed by any one. - -If the exterior aspect of Lisbon is truly magnificent, a nearer view of -that capital takes away all illusion. I afterward found this to be the case -also with many of the Brazilian cities. -{809} -Nature has done wonders for most of these towns, but man seems to have made -it his especial purpose to sully and disfigure everything. If we except -some really very fine buildings and noble historic monuments, all in Lisbon -is squalid, neglected, and ruinous. Most of the streets, rebuilt so lately -as eighty years ago, after the great earthquake, are narrow, tortuous, -ill-paved, and more than ordinarily dirty and fetid. The same may be said -of the houses, even of palaces of great noblemen, in which, in spite of -imposing architectural splendor, and traces of former sumptuousness, the -olfactory sense is frequently annoyed by indescribable odors of stables or -worse things. Sanitary commissions would assuredly be driven mad if at work -in that city for any time. The noisy bustle of a great capital always -gives, more or less, an appearance of energetic life to its indwellers; but -after London, Paris, or even Madrid, Lisbon appears dead. It is the torpid -metropolis of a degenerate people. - -On the 21st at sunrise we cast anchor in the fine bay of St. Vincent, one -of the Cape de Verde Islands, and a coaling station for steamers. It is a -volcanic rock of frightful sterility, but possesses a wide, deep, and -secure harbor of considerable resort for ships navigating on the African -coast. Everything is brought thither from the neighboring island of Sant' -Antonio--water, oranges, bananas, yams, sugar-canes, and other -productions--for the place yields absolutely nothing, save a little -brackish water in a couple of wells. Its sole inhabitants are a few score -of starving-looking negroes, a few lean pigs, fowls, and goats. I saw, -soaring high among the mountains, a kind of vulture with a large yellow -beak, but wondered where that bird and its possible fellows would find -anything to eat, unless it came across from the neighboring islands. For -there is no sign whatever of vegetation or of wild animal life on this -spot, where it is said never to rain. The soil is reddish, and perpetually -calcined by the intolerable fierceness of an almost equatorial sun. He -ought not to complain of heat in Europe who has once visited St. Vincent. -One of my voyaging companions, the secretary of nunciature at Rio, the Rev. -Monsignore ----, who had come directly from Rome, was sighing and groaning -under the oppression of that fiery clime. The good man had, by some -mischance, left his baggage behind, and had no other clothing to wear but a -long black coat of a coarse and thick texture that would have done him fair -service amidst the snows of Canada--but here in St. Vincent! He must have -had a vivid anticipation of purgatory, I am sure; his distress was very -comical, and he could not relieve it by lighter clothing until we reached -Bahia. Far more at their ease were the dozen or two of little blacks, -perfectly naked, who played on the smooth sandy shore, jumping and tumbling -in and out of the waves, just like our own children in the new-mown hay at -home in the summer-time. - -There may be at St. Vincent four or five score of so-called houses of most -wretched appearance, a set of stone-built barracks tenanted by a company or -so of Portuguese soldiers, and a small fort on a hillock, overlooking and -commanding the bay. Three or four sickly-looking palm-trees, brought from -Portugal, endeavor to grow in front of the government house. A small church -has recently been built, and is served by a black priest, who managed to -raise the funds for its erection by begging on board every ship which came -into the harbor. To the right on entering the harbor is a mountain of -somewhat fantastic form. American imagination has found in its outline some -resemblance to Washington's profile, and it has in consequence been called -"Washington's Head." Right in the middle of the entrance of the bay, and -darkly outlined against the frowning cliffs of Sant' Antonio, is a tall -conical rock of remarkable appearance. It is a capital landmark, being seen -seaward at a very great distance. -{810} -When we entered the harbor, we found at anchor, among other vessels, a -large Federal steam-frigate, which had been there four months watching the -arrival of the famous Alabama. Within the spacious bay disported two -whales, mother and cub, which were pursued for several hours, but in vain, -by the native fishermen. - -We most gladly bade farewell to the desolate isle of St. Vincent, and -fairly sailed away for the New World, yet distant from us six or seven -hundred leagues. The heat now began to be terrific, especially at night in -the narrow cabins; but it was moderated most days by a gentle breeze, which -made lolling on deck in the evenings truly luxurious. About a day's sail -from St. Vincent I first noticed shoals of flying-fish, though I believe -they are to be found in a much more northerly latitude, and in another -voyage I saw some off the isle of Palma. They rise from the sea, chiefly in -the early morning and when the surface is freshly rippled, in flocks of ten -to sixty or more, and fly close to the surface, often tipping the crest of -the wavelets, and skim along with great velocity for the space of five or -six hundred yards, when they plunge again into the deep, raising a speck of -foam. These small fish, which are said to be of excellent flavor, are about -the size of herrings, and of silvery-gray color. I once or twice saw some -much larger and almost white on the coast of Brazil, between Bahia and Rio -de Janeiro. They are said to be constantly pursued by the bonita, a large -fish of the dolphin species, whose hungry maw they try to escape by rising -out of the water. But although their flight is exceedingly rapid, their -relentless enemy cuts its way through the subjacent waves with equal -swiftness, and is ready for the tiny victims as they drop exhausted into -the sea. There appear to be prodigious numbers of them all over the ocean; -and nearer the coast of Africa the sea is sometimes covered for miles and -miles with their spawn lying on the smooth surface like the duck-weed of -our ponds. In this latitude, and for many days, I also noticed swimming -along in the smooth transparent waters the gay-looking dorado, a large fish -vividly reflecting the sun's rays from its scaly back, all over green and -gold. Sharks I was anxious to see, but none appeared throughout the voyage; -scared away, I should imagine, by the noise and turmoil of the -paddle-wheels. - -We had fallen into the region of the trade-winds, which blew steadily from -the north-east, wafting us rapidly over the middle Atlantic; we were eight -days reaching Pernambuco. I was surprised to meet with so few ships on the -way, yet we must have crossed the high road of a great multitude of vessels -outward or homeward bound. This apparent scarcity of ships gave me a vivid -idea of the immensity of the ocean, on whose pathless surface so many sail -wander, lost like imperceptible specks of dust on the plain. In this great -solitude, life on board ship is monotonous enough, and by its wearisomeness -almost justifies the snarling saying of Dr. Johnson: "Sir, I would rather -be in jail than on board of a ship, where you have the confinement of a -prison together with the chance of being drowned." Want of space, even in -the largest vessels, the impossibility of applying one's self to serious -occupation, to study, or to prayer, for want of quiet solitude, and also on -account of the rolling of the ship, which greatly fatigues the head--all -this makes one sigh for the end of the voyage, and find a lively interest -in the most trifling occurrences--the passing of a distant sail, the -flight of a bird, and so forth. It is especially in the evenings--and they -are long ones in the tropics--that time appears heavy, unless one be -inclined to enter into all the frivolous and noisy amusements set on foot -to beguile weariness. The passengers dance, play games, improvise concerts, -and especially eat and drink enormously, and almost all day long. How -wearisome former sea-voyages must have been, which lasted many months, -sometimes even several years! It is related, for example, in Captain Cook's -voyages that some of his crew once lost their wits for joy on seeing the -land they had not beheld for eighteen months. - -{811} - -A few degrees before we crossed the line, the sky became overcast with -heavy dark clouds, which French sailors call "_le pot du noir_" and -our English tars "the doldrums;" the barometer ceased to indicate any -atmospheric changes. It was on the 26th, in the evening, we passed the -equator, and for more than forty hours we had violent squalls and -occasional tremendous downpourings, which made us all uncomfortable: for -staying on deck was out of the question, and the heat below was very -oppressive. Flocks of a species of large wild goose, which came flying -round the ship, announced the proximity of the land; and on the 28th toward -dusk we passed off the rocky and picturesque island of Fernando de Noroñha. -It was at too great a distance to distinguish anything, but it is said to -contain features of great natural beauty. This island is now used as a -place of transportation for the convicts of Brazil. These were formerly -detained in the southern island of Sancta Catharina; but that spot afforded -the prisoners too many facilities of escape, being so near the mainland, -and within easy reach of the foreign state of the Banda Oriental. I could -collect but meagre notions concerning the number and the lot of the unhappy -convicts, mostly all blacks, who have only exchanged one kind of slavery -and labor for another. In most cases, when the crime committed has not been -of the most heinous nature, the convict after a year or two's confinement -is drafted into the army or navy. I have heard officers of both services -bitterly complain of this system. The island of Noroñha is mountainous, and -difficult of access. - -At last, on Sunday, March the 29th, at sunrise, we touched the New World, -and the Magdalena cast anchor in Pernambuco roads, about three miles from -the land, for the harbor, whose entrance is narrow besides, is inaccessible -to ships of large tonnage. The fishermen of this place boldly navigate in -those roads, and sometimes many leagues into the offing, on strange-looking -and perilous rafts made of a few crossed bamboo-sticks, somewhat resembling -the catamarans used at Madras. It is inconceivable how those daring sailors -are not devoured by the sharks off those flimsy machines, which the least -wave upsets. It does not much concern them when this happens, for they all -swim like fishes, and the tiny craft is soon put to rights again. There is, -however, a tradition in the port that once upon a time a man was snatched -off his dancing catamaran by a monstrous shark, which devoured him before -the eyes of his affrighted companions. Pernambuco is a place of great -trade, the third city in the Brazils for population and the importance of -its productions: it is one of the great sugar-markets of the world. It -possesses some good churches and public buildings, and a school of law, the -first in the empire, where Pombalist and Jansenistic traditions have -obtained much less adhesion than at Sao Paolo or Bahia. A thesis was -maintained there with great applause a short time ago, which astonished all -the lawyers of Brazil, namely, that the pope needed not a general council -to decide infallibly any doctrine of faith; his _ipse dixit_ was -sufficient; and all true Catholics ought at once to bow interiorly and -exteriorly to it as to the word of Christ himself. This was probably the -first time this had been so boldly proclaimed in South America since the -banishment of the Society of Jesus. - -The town is cut up by a number of lagoons, crossed over by bridges like at -Venice; and its first aspect from the sea reminds one very much of Hamburg. -There is, of course, the difference of a glowing sky and large tropical -vegetation. The land lies low, and the presumption is that it must be -unhealthy; but it is not so, I believe, owing to the regular sea-breezes, -which greatly cool the air and dissipate the vapors. The heat cannot but be -intense at times on a spot only six or seven degrees south of the line. - -{812} - -It is not always easy to land at Pernambuco, for the entrance of the harbor -does not give more than fifteen or sixteen feet of water in the best tides; -and there lies across it, and for hundreds of miles up and down and -parallel with the coast, a dangerous low coral-reef, against which the -mighty Atlantic waves dash with fury. This reef, which in many places -barely rises above the surface, would prove an excellent defence against -invasion; but it was not apparently thought sufficient in former times, for -there stands on the beach to the north of the town a square bastioned fort, -built by the Dutch under Maurice of Nassau when they occupied the country -at the beginning of the seventeenth century. To the north of this again, on -a bold rocky hill, is situated the ancient city of Olinda, so called from -the exclamations of the first Portuguese discoverers when this enchanting -land broke upon their sight: "O linda terra! lindos outeiros!" "O beautiful -country, charming hills!" It was formerly a bishop's see and the capital of -the country. It contains several churches and convents, as well as old -residences of governors and magnates, of a rather massive and imposing -architecture. The surrounding country is one vast forest of palm, -cocoa-nut, and other trees of the torrid zone. There are many flourishing -sugar and coffee plantations, surrounded by nopal and banana groves, and a -multitude of superb creepers, amidst whose luxuriant growth and glowing -flowers rise the white-walled houses of the owners. As we rode along, we -purchased some pine-apples and mangoes of immense size and exquisite -flavor. When we returned on board, numbers of Pernambuco boatmen surrounded -the ship with loads of oranges and bananas for sale, as well as tame -parrots and monkeys; but none of them, with the fear of the sharks before -their eyes, would imitate the blacks, whom we had seen at St. Vincent -diving into the sea, nine or ten fathom deep, to pick up small pieces of -money which the passengers would throw in, to witness their astonishing -power of swimming. - -From Pernambuco to Bahia we had thirty-six hours' passage. We were not -nearer the land than ten or twelve leagues, the Royal Mail Company -forbidding their commanders of ships to hug the coast any closer. On the -30th of March, about noon, we met the fine steamer La Navarre, of the -French Messageries Company, on its way to Bordeaux. It was crammed full of -passengers, among whom I saw several Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul. These -venerable religious women serve various hospitals in the Brazils--at Bahia, -Rio de Janeiro, and other places. They are everywhere, I need not say, -worthy of their holy founder and of their country. They have not escaped, -however, in this New World the calumnies and persecutions which they have -had to endure in some parts of Europe, and notably in Portugal and -Piedmont. Almost the first Brazilian journal I saw contained an infamous -diatribe against them; but they would very likely themselves prefer -contumely to honor, as assimilating them more perfectly to their Divine -Lord, the Man of Sorrows. - -At a very early hour on the 31st we doubled the point which juts out on the -right of the harbor of Bahia, and the ship fired a gun to announce our -arrival. No description can convey a true idea of the beauty of this -celebrated bay--Bahia de todos os Sanctos, that is, "All Saints' Bay." -Covered to the water's edge with a glowing and gigantic vegetation, the -hills which rise above the roadstead are dotted with pretty-looking villas, -the residences of the city merchants. It was the commencement of what is -here called winter; yet I saw everywhere a superabundance of flowers, -especially of roses. Trees with strange forms, fruits yet more strange, a -teeming population, two thirds of which at least was composed of negroes, -the odd cries and barbarous howlings of these blacks as they hawked their -wares or carried, to the number of ten or twelve together, huge burdens -swung on the middle of long poles--everything was of a sort to interest a -stranger. -{813} -Carriages there were none, or very few at least; for the city, being built -on the steep slope of an abrupt cliff, has no level surface anywhere in its -streets, most of which resemble very much the queer uphill lanes leading to -Fourvières in the city of Lyons. The intense heat of the atmosphere made me -give up the design I had entertained of visiting the town entirely on foot. -I hired a kind of bath-chair, of which there are long stands about, and two -stout negroes conveyed me successively to the various churches and the -public garden of the city. These chairs are very ingeniously contrived to -exclude the sun and admit the air, as well as to preserve absolute privacy -within them. They swing on a long pole fore and aft, which the blacks carry -on their shoulder; but this pole is shaped like an elongated S, to secure -the sitter's equilibrium, which would be unpleasantly disturbed by the -see-saw tread of the bearers. Notwithstanding the little exercise I took, -an abundant perspiration ran from every pore. It was therefore with -exquisite pleasure that I came to a house where for a few _vintems_ ( -few pence) I could exchange my stewing state for the coolness of a -shower-bath. I had previously been told to use the necessary precaution-- -that is, to rub a small quantity of caixaça, or rum, over my body before -coming in contact with the water. - -The trade of Bahia appears considerable, and is entirely carried on in the -lower town, which stretches along the water-side on the north for more than -a league, nearly to the western-most point of the outer bay, crowned by a -celebrated sanctuary dedicated to Nossa Señhora do Bom-Fim--Our Lady of the -Happy Death. On the eastern promontory of the harbor, on the summit of a -bold hill looking upon the Atlantic, is the oldest religious building, -perhaps, in all South America. It is the now ruinous church built by an -Indian princess, the first of her race who embraced the faith of Christ. -The beach below was often hallowed by the footsteps of the venerable Father -Anchieta, the apostle of Brazil, who would bare his breast to the -sea-breeze to cool the ardor which consumed him for the salvation of souls, -and write with a stick on the sand of the shore the beautiful Latin verses -he daily composed in honor of the Blessed Mother of God. The blacks still -cross themselves at the mention of Padre Anchieta's name, and the country -still abounds with traces and monuments of his zeal and wonderful sanctity. -The numerous churches of Bahia are generally very richly decorated, but not -cleanly kept. I saw some large black rats running across the altar of one -of them, most profusely adorned with gilt carving. It was a church -dedicated to St. Benedict the Moor, a negro saint from Africa, a monk of -the Franciscan order, who lived and died in Sicily, and it is exclusively -used by the blacks. A negro priest was loitering about its precincts, and -when I told him of the boldness of the aforesaid rats, "We cannot help it, -Señor Padre-mestre." he answered; "their numbers are so great we cannot -destroy them." The churches have no seats; the men stand round by the side -walls, and the women _squat_ down on the middle wooden floor. -Sometimes, and when the floor is of stone, the ladies are accompanied to -church by a female slave carrying a small square carpet, which she lays -down for her mistress to sit upon. I saw again here in the cathedral what I -had already seen in Lisbon: on a wooden bench near the holy-water vessel -close to the door lay several dead babies, shrouded up with the exception -of the face, and covered with fresh flowers. The mothers were waiting hard -by until a priest should come to recite the funeral prayers. I had at first -mistaken these little corpses for waxen _exvotos_. Thus adorned, death -had nothing sad or repulsive about it, especially when I thought that -these, were the remains of little angels--_anjiñhos_ they call them -in Brazil--who had flown to heaven with the purity of their baptismal -innocence. - -{814} - -The negroes of Bahia are numerous, and the finest in the Brazils. I admire -their robust frames, and the seeming indifference with which they carried -almost Titanic loads beneath such a burning sun. The landing-place is a -perfect Babel; these blacks are so loquacious, and they, moreover, seem to -think it adds to their importance to shout as loud as their rough, powerful -throats will let them. I have never heard a negro speak to another in a -quiet, subdued way. Why should they, indeed? They never attain the sober -sense of manhood; they are a mere set of noisy, overgrown children. We had -had as a fellow-passenger by the Magdalena, as far as Bahia, a Mr. B----, a -little, old Scotchman, long settled in the province of Minasgeraes, who -took no small pride in exhibiting a snow-white beard almost a yard in -length, and a plentiful crop of hair of the same venerable hue. A sprightly -English youth, who was one of the first to land, spread the report among -the blacks that we had on board the famous "Wandering Jew." Our ship was -soon surrounded by a multitude of boats crammed full of woolly heads, and, -when the luckless Scotchman landed, he was, to his dismay, escorted -everywhere by a long procession of shouting and screaming blackies. We -thought he paid rather dear for his eccentricity. - -The market, which was near the landing-place, was abundantly supplied with -eatables of every kind; poultry, kids, lambs, sucking-pigs, all alive, and -bleating, squeaking, clucking their best; a great variety of fish and -fruits; oranges of huge size, called there _seleitas_; water-melons, -with the red, cool pulp; mangoes, bananas, jacas, a sort of large pumpkins -which grow on tall trees, goiavas, and many more species whose mostly -Indian names I cannot recollect. With the exception of oranges, limes, and -pine-apples, which are superexcellent, the fruits of Brazil do not at first -please a European palate. Those of Europe--owing, I suppose, to careful and -scientific cultivation--attain a more delicate flavor, if they do not equal -the fruits of America in size and color. The same may be said of the -flowers, which, with greater size and magnificence of color and form, lack, -for the most part, the exquisite perfume which our humblest flowers exhale. - ------- - - Translated. - - Sayings of the Fathers of the Desert. - - -Some brothers came to Abbot Antony, and said: "We wish to hear a maxim from -you by which we may save ourselves." - -The father said: "You hear the Scriptures, that is enough for you." - -"But we wish to hear something from you, father." - -"You hear," replied Abbot Antony, "Our Lord saying: 'If any man strike you -on the left cheek, turn even the other to him.'" - -Said they, "We are not able to do this." - -"If you are not able to turn the other cheek, at least bear the one blow -patiently." - -"We cannot do that," said they. - -"If you are not strong enough for that, then do not wish to strike more -than you are struck." - -"Oh!" said they, "we cannot even do that." - -Then the father said to his novice: "Get ready some pap for these brothers, -for they are very weak." Then, turning to them, he said: "If you are not -able to do even this much, what can I do for you? All that you need is -prayer." - ------- - -{815} - - - The Two Lovers of Flavia Domitilla. - - By Clonfert. - - - Chapter IV. - - The Feast of Blood. - - -About the year ninety-two of the Christian era, Domitian visited the -theatre of the Dacian war. Not daring to show himself to the rebel army, he -plundered the towns and cities which were left unprotected. Fire and fury -surrounded his march; and desolation left its smoking trail behind him. -Carrying with him the wealth of the pillaged villages, he returned to Rome. -The tact and bravery of Julian, who directed the war against the Dacians, -in a few months brought that warlike race to terms. Officially informed of -their surrender, Domitian, who had never appeared on the battle-field, -decreed himself a triumph such as in by-gone ages were awarded only to the -conquerors of great nations. He pompously ordered the temple of Janus to be -closed for the third time, we believe, in his reign. Its gates were left -open in time of war. Its closing was a sign that universal peace prevailed -over the vast area of the Roman empire. - -The temple of Janus was closed. But the peace its silent sanctuary -represented was like the calm of the sea before being lashed into fury by -the flapping wings of the tempest. The surface of the social system, -undisturbed by the rebellion of warring tribes or by the clash of arms, was -outwardly quiet and even. But the quiet and the evenness were those of the -stagnant ocean described by the poet as being overhead covered with smiling -ripples and silver sunshine, but underneath filled with filth and -corruption and the nameless things bred thereof. Taking the point of view -chosen by a great saint, we may well exclaim: "What a spectacle presented -itself to the eye of the all-seeing Creator as he gazed downward over that -vast empire! What corruption of truth and justice, of morality and religion -filled society and corroded its vitals in all its parts! Rotten and rotting -systems of philosophy and the monstrous principles and practices born -thereof swarmed and spread on every side. It was only natural that the -whole corrupted mass would swell and boil with fury as the little yeast of -Christian truth destined to impregnate and cure it was being infused." - -The temple of Janus was closed. But the man who directed the destinies of -the empire was ill at ease. The legions in Gaul and Asia were clamoring for -increased pay. He had already, in order to secure their fidelity, raised it -from three to four aurei, (about $5.25.) The gigantic and shapeless temples -and other structures he erected, together with the enormous outlay on -public games and festivals, were a continual drain on the treasury. To -procure money he had appointed officials of his own choosing to -superintend, increase, and collect the taxes in the provinces and in the -city of Rome; creatures like Arthus, who ground the people with iron heel -until they bruised out the last cent from their pockets. Arthus was one of -the principal of these tax-imposers and tax-gatherers in the city: -ambitious of rising higher and higher in the imperial favor, and of -out-distancing his fellow-financiers in the neighboring districts, he spent -all his time and attention which were not engaged in building up and -pulling down parts of the labyrinthine temple, of which we have in the last -chapter spoken, in devising plans for raising money. -{816} -After bath and dinner he was to be seen each day for hours with his hand -upon his head concocting schemes as to the best and most expeditious way of -putting his hand in the pockets of the poor, plundered plebeians. The -client who came to propitiate the great man by a money-offer was received -with courteous words and slippery smiles. But if it were a wretched wife -pleading for a husband and family, whose last obolus was given already, she -was received with insult and turned, if not kicked, from the door, carrying -with her the fear of the unrelenting tyrant hanging like midnight upon her -soul! - -The Jews in these as in our own times had more than an ordinary repute for, -and possessed more than an ordinary share of, the money-bags. Arthus had -suggested a tax to be levied on them for the right of residence in Rome. -This proved a mine of supply during many years for the emperor. Another -suggestion of Arthus had been an edict of persecution against the -Christians, which would at once enable the cunning official to seize on and -confiscate all their property. The exhausted condition of the treasury, -together with what we are about relating, combined in bringing forth the -edict. - -At an early hour of the day, in the morning of which we have seen Aurelian -at the Christian meeting, he sought the imperial palace. He had not changed -his dress of the day before, and he betrayed by his hurried step and -restless eye the deep excitement of his feelings. - -When admitted into the emperor's presence, he described what he had -witnessed in the catacombs. The number and the rank in society of those -present at the Christian assemblage were painted in colors heightened by -his imagination and fears. The words of consecration which he had heard -were instanced as undeniable proof of the truth of the rumors circulated -about the murder of infants and participation of human blood and flesh by -the Christians, The marriage of Flavia and Vitus, as Aurelian believed, was -depicted, as well as the part which Theodore, Priscilla, and Clement took -in solemnizing it. The emperor seemed wholly overwhelmed. By nature and -habit of a very nervous temperament, he was overcome with vague terrors on -discovering himself surrounded in his very palace and family by traitors. -Vitus and Priscilla! the two most trusted inmates of his household, the -most punctual in the discharge of their duties, and the most faithful, as -he thought, to his own person! They to be infected with this Christian -poison, and principal sharers in these bloody orgies! After them it was -easy to belive that many more of his servants and friends were followers -and supporters of Christ. Perhaps at that very moment the plots planned in -those sacred meetings were at work against his life and crown! Might it not -be a clever manoeuvre to have thus entrapped and drugged Flavia in order -that, through her popularity and that of her uncle, the Roman people would -willingly see the sceptre wrested from his hand and placed in that of the -Christian whom she would espouse? Such were the reflections of Domitian in -listening to Aurelian's narrative. His full, red face grew fuller and -redder; his eyebrows lowered and drew the small eyes deeper under; and his -voice, always husky and rough, sounded more huskily and roughly as it fell -in short syllables on the ear: - -"By the gods--who guard the Roman capitol and state--Aurelian--we must burn -out this nest of insects--crawling in the earth--and seeking to sting us -in our very palace--" He paused for breath, which came and went in -asthmatic style, between groups of three or four words. Striking a gong, he -ordered one of the courtiers to send for Arthus. But that obsequious -functionary was already in attendance at the palace and soon appeared. With -a peculiar, twitching motion of the hands, and feet, and head, and with -dress swaying in unison with the nervous motion of his body, Arthus -approached and knelt before Domitian. - -{817} - -"Arthus!" said the latter, "before the vesper hour--let the edict already -drafted against the Christians--be posted in the plain of Mars and let -copies of it be sent to the Asiatic, Gallic, and African cities!" Then -addressing Aurelian, "We shall ourselves--send a guard for the -ladies--Theodora and Flavia--as well as for Clement and the others--you -mentioned, and have them with Vitus and Priscilla--examined and punished -in our own presence." - -On the evening of the 25th of December, the tablets on which the edict was -graven were placed in the Campius Martins. Then there arose through the -city sounds of commotion and woe, such as might arise if it were besieged -by a hostile army, or if the Gauls were once again calling for the -surrender of its keys. There was a hurrying to and fro of citizens in fear -or in fury, of soldiers and civic officials, of informers, accusers, and -accused, many of whom were before night dragged from their peaceful hearths -and families to the public tribunals. Many Christians were also put to -death. Through the darkness, as it fell like a pall on that scene of -excitement and suffering, the yelling of the mob was heard for many miles -as they surged through the streets and assailed the houses of the -suspected. The thirst for plunder and for blood, the awful rumors afloat, -and believed, of the Christian assemblies, and the thousand petty motives -of jealousy, envy, and hatred by which wicked men are often influenced -against their honest, virtuous neighbors, gave energy to the infuriate -passions of the populace. Throughout the night and the following days they -did not rest from their unhallowed work. Women and children as well as men -were seized and carried before the prefect or into the chamber of tortures, -where the brute-crowd shouted and cheered as they saw the martyrs writhing -on the rack or on the gridiron! However, in these crowds were many of the -faithful, who watched the death-scene, treasured each word that passed -between the judge and the condemned, and carried away either a sponge -soaked in, or a vial filled with, their blood, or some other relics. These -trustworthy witnesses wrote down the history of the martyrdom on -parchment-rolls, which they gave to the secretaries appointed to revise and -take care of them. Thus the first Christian Acts of Martyrs were compiled -and preserved. - -As soon as the edict was posted, troops on horseback and in vehicles were -seen hastening through the streets and gates, and directing their courses -along the Appian, Flaminian, and other roads leading to the north, south, -east, and west. They carried copies of the edict for the magistrates of the -cities on their routes, to be set up in the forums and market-places. Some -travelled without stopping, save only for rest or refreshment at the -military _stationes_, or halting-places along the roads at intervals -of twenty or thirty miles. The _pagi_, or outlying smaller villages -built about central forts or places of defence, were seldom visited by -these couriers; because the _pagani_, or inhabitants of these country -villages, were the last to embrace Christianity, and comparatively few of -them had been at this early period converted. Quickly and steadily did -these messengers of persecution speed on, until the seaports or the -mountains were reached. Counting the places at which they rested for the -night, from ancient itineraries of the great highways north and south and -west, we may compute that in ten days the edict was promulgated at -Marseilles, in fifteen at Corinth, in nineteen in Algiers, and in -twenty-four in Ephesus and the remote cities of Asia Minor. Quickly and -steadily these messengers of woe sped from Rome to the four quarters of the -empire; and, as they passed, confusion, agony, and bloodshed were left -behind them. Like a stone dropped into calm waters, the bloody edict fell -upon the empire in an interval of peace. -{818} -The circle of consternation and persecution, like the commotion caused by -the stone falling into the tranquil waters, became wider and wider as the -imperial couriers travelled on, until it surged to the far boundaries of -the empire. But, although the servants of the temporal sovereign were thus -fleet and active, the messengers of the Lord of hosts were not slow or -idle. Ignotus, the Jewish beggar of the Appian Way, was the first to bring -word to Pope Clement and the missionaries assembled in the catacombs. The -pope had already made his arrangements; the city had been divided into -fourteen districts corresponding with its partition under the first -emperors; and priests, deacons, laymen, and even women were appointed to -watch over the several parts, to find admission, if possible, to the -imprisoned confessors and administer the sacraments and other consolations -of religion, to note down carefully what took place at their trials and at -their execution, and to obtain their bodies, and, if not, whatever relics -they could, in order to their decent preservation in the subterranean -vaults. Others, principally those who were lame or otherwise maimed, or -could easily assume the role of mendicants, were appointed to act as -messengers between the city and the catacombs. The more zealous who sighed -for martyrdom were restrained and ordered to prepare the niches for the -bodies of the martyred. The anxieties of the holy pope and missionaries -were not for the preservation of their own lives, but for the perseverance -of the faithful and the conversion of the unbelievers. Prayers for this -double purpose were appointed to be constantly offered in the collects of -the mass and at other times. Oh! how those unselfish, heroic men yearned -for the time when the cross of Jesus would be emblazoned on the capitol as -a sign that the countless nations and tribes subject to the Roman sway -bowed their stubborn necks to the mild yoke it symbolized. Health, wealth, -life were nothing in their esteem compared with this glorious result. -Clement, in his care of Rome, did not forget the other churches. To the -priest Andronicus, who was setting out for his post at Ephesus, he -entrusted a letter to the people of Corinth with regard to practices and -schisms, which, despite the efforts and letters of St. Paul, still cropped -up amongst them. Ignotus, the beggarman of the Appian and Latin Crossway, -had meantime turned his face toward Ostia, and long before the moon had -crossed the meridian he had warned many Christian communities to prepare -for the combat. The messengers of Domitian rested for the night; but -Ignotus never stopped day or night until he reached the mines outside -Ostia, where many Christians were employed. Before the official -announcement of the persecution reached the sea, the docks and vessels were -watched by anxious believers, clad in many guises of concealment. Many -availed themselves of the earliest craft to cross to Illyricum, Macedonia, -Greece, and Asia Minor. In the same way the Christian dwellers beyond the -Alps and Pyrenees had due warning before the edict arrived. One herald, -like Ignotus, was in every place through which he passed, a centre from -which other messengers, like radii, branched out. Thus zeal and charity -gave wings to the humble followers of Christ, with which the wealth and -power of imperial Rome were not able to arm its servants. Thus, too, -Christendom was prepared, as well as it could be, before the vultures -pounced upon its entrails. That preparation consisted to a great extent in -secreting the rolls of the sacred Scriptures and the consecrated vessels, -so that the persecutors might not seize on or desecrate them. - -After leaving the Christian assemblage, Sisinnius with his two companions -returned to Aurelian's villa, and retired to take a few hours' rest. When -he awoke, he was told that Aurelian had driven to Rome. -{819} -Returning alone, he mused, as he passed through the fields between the -Latin and Appian roads, on the events of the previous evening, and -determined to say nothing, until he saw how things went on, to his wife or -Flavia about what he had witnessed. He found both in the family parlor. -There was nothing in their appearance to betray their vigils of the night -before, no sign of weariness or excitement. Flavia wore on her head the -white veil, and on her finger the ring, with which Clement had invested -her. A spirit of peace, joy, and happiness indescribable beamed, like a -light through a lamp, through her face and whole being. Theodora seemed -also happy. As the husband opened the door of the room, he saw her on her -knees, and heard his own name mentioned in earnest tones by her as she -supplicated God for his conversion and salvation. Standing for a moment in -the half-open door-way, he gazed with a feeling of veneration on his young -wife and her companion, as the rays of the sun slanting through a window -fell upon their earnest faces and surrounded their kneeling figures with a -balmy radiance. Silently and instinctively he joined them in spirit, asking -for full light to know and believe the truth. - -Neither Sisinnius nor the inmates of his house had heard anything about the -persecution until twilight, when they were visited by a troop of the -imperial guard, led by Arthus. With his usual hurried gait and style, that -functionary explained how he had been commissioned by the emperor to escort -Theodora and Flavia to Domitian's palace. Sisinnius expressed his surprise -that it was deemed fitting or necessary to send a guard for noble ladies, -when an invitation or a message would have sufficed. - -"Excuse me, noble Sisinnius, if I arouse your fears or pain your feelings. -You are not aware, perhaps, that an edict against the Christians has been -this afternoon promulgated from the capital and on the plain of Mars. The -two noble dames have been accused of belonging to the Christian conspiracy, -and having been present early this morning at their secret meeting!" - -This was said by Arthus in a tone of malicious insolence, which Sisinnius -at another time would have subdued with contempt. But the tidings fell like -a lightning-stroke upon him, paralyzed his self possession, and filled him -with vague fears for his wife and her young friend. - -"Please to rest," he said to Arthus, "for a few minutes in the atrium while -the ladies get ready to accompany you." Then re-entering the parlor, he -cautiously broke to them the news. But it had no effect on them as it had -on him. They glanced smilingly at each other, and exclaimed, "Thanks to -God," and announced their readiness to depart. Sisinnius urged Flavia to -change her dress; but she declined. - -"But this dress," he urged, "will witness against you and be your -condemnation." - -"Then I shall retain it. It is my bridal dress: is it fitting for the bride -to leave it aside when going to meet her spouse?" - -Addressing himself to Theodora, he found her of the same mind as Flavia. - -"Alas! my poor wife!" he exclaimed, embracing her, "you too are resolved to -die! Our lives have hitherto flowed along purely and musically as two -streams which unite their currents and go laughing through the summer -meadows. But we have reached the edge of a precipice, and may be separated -for ever by death. I know the tiger-nature of Domitian. But I must gird -myself to propitiate him. Oh! tell me that you will renounce this Christian -sect! otherwise I have little hope." - -"You know not, dear Sisinnius, what, you ask. Death shall not separate -those who share in the future resurrection to a glorious immortality. Would -you wish your wife to lose her hopes thereof in order to avoid a little -temporal punishment? O my husband! I should die happily if I knew that you, -too, had acknowledged the one true God and the Saviour of mankind who died -to save us from sin and shame. I shall pray with my last breath, with my -blood, that God may reveal himself to you. -{820} -Then we would be again united in the world beyond the grave, never, never -to be separated! For there is One above"--she looked and pointed upward, -and Sisinnius imagined that there was something more than mortal about -her--"there is One above who shall hereafter command the elements and force -them to deliver up the portions of these mortal bodies that will have -passed into their possession. Fire and water, earth and air, shall obey his -order; and the ashes from the urn and the mould in the coffin, and the -gaseous vapors in which our burned or corrupting flesh may evaporate will -be restored; the bones shall stand up joint over joint in the tombs, and -the flesh and nerves and sinews shall reclothe them, and the souls shall -enter the arisen tenements of our bodies, and ascend like Jesus, -triumphant, after having despised the sting of temporal death and achieved -victory over the grave, to enjoy the unending, ineffable bliss prepared for -those especially who by their blood confess him before men. Dear Sisinnius, -if you be true to your own nature, if you do not stubbornly prevent the -light from sinking into your mind and heart, I feel a presentiment that you -shall know him, and shall then appreciate the littleness of earthly -sufferings and death when endured for his love! Gladly do I proceed to -resign the life of my body in order to secure that of my soul, particularly -when it is given for him who for me, and for you, too, my husband, -permitted himself to be nailed on a cross. With my very blood I shall -beseech him to show you how great joy there is in suffering for his name, -his person, and his cause. Dearest Lord Jesus!" she fervently prayed, -sinking on her knees, "grant your unworthy servant this grace, and -strengthen us in the hour of trial and combat to win the martyrs' fadeless -palm!" - -Sisinnius was affected to tears as he saw such proof of sincere devotion to -himself, and at the same time to the religion of Christ. He thought that it -could not be the religion it was described to be, when it could thus win -and fill with happiness spirits so pure, so high, so unconscious of -wickedness as those of Theodora and Flavia Domitilla. - -Arthus was impatient. Impatient also was the Emperor Domitian. He was -waiting in a large chamber of his palace, where, on an ivory altar, edged -with gold, were placed two statues, one of Jupiter and the other of -himself. A smoking censer swung in front of the altar, sustained on silver -chains attached by a pulley to the ceiling. Soldiers with drawn swords -stood in files along the sides of the room, while nearer to the altar were -stalwart men, naked to the waist, and holding instruments of torture in -their hands. These were Domitian's favorite gladiators, to utter a word -against any of whom was certain death. Round their arms the veins and -muscles swelled like twisted cords. The emperor was seated on a rich -throne, the steps of which he at intervals descended and nervously paced -the room. Terror sat on many faces as they saw his sunken eyes and knit -brows. Terror, too, was in his own heart as he conjured up before his -imagination the wide-spread and the hidden nature of the Christian -conspiracy against his throne. Such he assumed it to be. Hence he had now -surrounded himself with the gladiators, to whose fidelity and prowess he -entrusted his safety against the dagger or the poisoned cup. Aurelian had -been commissioned to lead a body of soldiers to the Appian Way, and to -arrest Pope Clement and those with him. But he had returned without finding -any trace of them, to the great chagrin of himself and the emperor. Those -present heard the latter grinding his teeth like small wheels in machinery, -and muttering broken curses with livid lips. - -When Sisinnius and his party arrived, they were confronted by Vitus and -Priscilla. - -{821} - -"Flavia Domitilla and Vitus," said the emperor, "stand forth! Is it true, -Vitus, that, despite our known will, you have espoused our ward and cousin -in the Christian assembly? Can it be that you, so favored, so honored by -us, have become a traitor to our throne and person?" - -"My sovereign lord!" said Vitus, stepping boldly into the centre of the -hall and making obeisance to the emperor, "I am not a traitor. On the -contrary, I am bound by every motive of loyalty and religion to serve you -in all things lawful. I appeal to your own experience of me in the past, if -I have not hitherto acted as became a Roman and an officer of the -household. Neither, most exalted emperor, is it true that the Lady Flavia -and I have plighted troth. My troth and faith are plighted to one higher -and more beautiful than she is; to one who can never know speck, or stain, -or wrinkle, who has been washed to a spotless whiteness in the blood of the -Lamb!" As he said this he turned toward Flavia, as if deprecating a seeming -want of courtesy. - -At this moment, Aurelian, excited and travel-stained, entered, accompanied -by the troop of the guard he had led to arrest Pope Clement. The only -prisoners he brought back were Damian, the missionary from Britain, and -Lucius, one of his own slaves. He had met these two wandering among the -tombs, but got no trace of others. - -Domitian, motioning Aurelian to a place near Vitus and Flavia, asked the -latter: - -"Is this true, Flavia Domitilla, which Vitus says?" - -"It is, my lord!" she answered, in a low, tremulous voice. - -"What sayest thou, Senator Aurelian? I trust you have not, through -jealousy, led us to offer indignity to gentle ladies of rank! If so, by our -crown, the high favor in which you have stood shall not save you from due -atonement." - -Aurelian was confused and confounded by this address, the cause of which he -did not well comprehend. One circumstance, however, worked in his favor: -Flavia's white veil. The emperor, remarking it, asked: - -"What mean these flowing robes of white? They seem more a festive costume -than an evening dress." - -She answered not. But Aurelian, having recovered his presence of mind, -said: - -"Was I not right, O mighty potentate? This is the bridal garment she wore -last night when she was married to Vitus, after being drugged with a cup of -human blood! See! the influence of that drug is upon her yet." - -"Answer me, Flavia Domitilla, truly. Have you been in the secret meeting of -the Christians last night?" - -"I have," she replied, with firm voice and unflinching eye. - -"Have you withdrawn the faith you gave Aurelian by our desire, and bestowed -it on another?" - -"I have." - -"To whom? to Vitus?" - -"No! but to One more beautiful, more lovable, more glorious than Vitus, or -than any earthly being; to One whose wisdom outdistances the accumulated -lore of sages and philosophers; to One whose years are not counted by the -sands on the ocean's shores, by the grass blades clothing the earth, or the -water-drops in the encircling seas; yet whose youth is greener, fresher, -softer, and more lovely than the eye of man has rested on or the fancy of -poet has pictured; to One whose sceptre rules the nations of the earth and -all things therein, the islands of the deep and all things thereon, whose -messengers guide the stars in their courses, whose beauty and majesty are -faintly mirrored in the universe, and whose love for me is so great that he -left all these aside and became a servant in order that he might suffer and -die for me, and thus free me from the clutches of a tyrant! Yes, O emperor! -I have plighted my faith, and hope, and love, my body and my soul, my -present and my future, to my God and my Redeemer, Jesus Christ! He is my -glorious spouse, and I am his accepted bride. -{822} -Behold the garments in which I have been betrothed to him!" As she spoke -her face became animated, her voice grew strong and eloquent, her eye -flashed with courage, her whole bearing gave proof of a soul raised by the -excitement of unusual happiness to heroic daring. She stood before the -cruel tyrant, with hand uplifted to heaven, and the white Ionic veil waving -round her face like a shifting glory; and might, in the eyes of the heathen -soldiers, have passed for the goddess Juno, as described by Virgil, or for -Iris freshly descended from Olympus. But Domitian was not moved by her -youth, her eloquence, or her beauty, but bounded from his throne as if -stung by a serpent when he heard her thus mention the Saviour's name. - -"What! In my presence--to my face--declaring yourself the bride of my worst -enemy. By the manes of Vespasian and Titus! If you do not offer sacrifice -to Jupiter and to my divinity, and renounce all connection with this -Crucified Jew, your head, with all its attractions, shall not long remain -upon those rounded shoulders!" He waved his sceptre and directed the -soldiers to bring her toward the altar. But she would not raise her hand -toward the incense. - -"Never! never!" she exclaimed, "by word or act, shall I deny the Lord of -lords, the God of gods, and acknowledge by the supreme worship of sacrifice -a demon that has usurped his place, or a creature to be a god because he -sits on an earthly throne. You may force my hand, but you cannot force my -will!" - -Domitian was frantic: "Away with her! away with her! Her family have always -crossed my path. Let not her head," he turned to the gladiators, "remain an -instant on her body, that her tongue may no longer insult me!" - -A smile rippled over the face of the virgin confessor. - -"See! she smiles, she mocks me! Off with it! off with it! Craven cowards! -do you hesitate before a mere woman? Give me that executioner's sword and I -shall make short work of it. By heavens she is smiling still and calling on -Jesus. Where is he now, God of gods, as you name him? Why does he not come -forward at his beloved's bidding to resist the power and stay the arm of -Domitian?" - -Aurelian interposed nervously: - -"Most powerful monarch and irresistible deity! she is smiling in joy under -the infatuating belief that, when her head is severed from her body, she -shall be out of your power, freed wholly from my claims upon her, and -received into the kingdom which Jesus promises to all who die for him. Do -not allow him to triumph over you, do not gratify her desire of martyrdom; -but entrust her to me, that I may make her my own; and then both you and I -shall have triumphed over those who have driven her into this madness." - -"Be it so! Ha, ha! I believe you have taken the right view. See the tears -glisten in her eyes, and her joy is changed to sadness. But take her hence, -never to enter my presence, lest her words excite me to gratify her insane -longings. Who are those that drugged her?" - -"Behold them!" said Aurelian, pointing to Vitus, Priscilla, Theodora, and -Damian. "There were others, too, who took a leading part in the ceremony, -but we have not been yet able to arrest them." - -"Vitus! come forward and offer sacrifice to the gods!" - -"I cannot, O mighty emperor! Because there is but one God to whom the honor -of sacrifice may be paid, and that is Jesus Christ, true God and true Man." - -"Are you, my ladies," the emperor turned to Priscilla and Theodora, "of a -like disposition?" - -"Yes," was the low but firm answer. - -"Executioners, advance and do your duty by these recusants!" - -Sisinnius fell upon his knees before the emperor and pleaded hard for his -wife's life, pleaded his own long services and fidelity to the imperial -family, pleaded her youth and innocence. - -{823} - -Domitian at length relaxed. - -"I shall spare her life as I have spared that of Flavia Domitilla, until -such time as will show whether she will return to a better sense or not; -but both must be under the surveillance of a guard, whom I shall appoint. -As to those others," he said pointing to Priscilla and Damian, "the -traitors of my household, I shall make an example of them." He gave orders -in a voice which was not to be disobeyed for the execution of Priscilla and -Vitus, Damian and Lucius, (strangers in whom no one seemed interested;) and -the command was obeyed. - -As Domitian saw the heads severed from the shoulders, he gloated over the -scene with the savage cruelty peculiar to him. Theodora and Flavia covered -their faces and prayed for the victory of the martyrs, managing to saturate -pieces of cloth in the blood. - ------- - - Original. - - - The Wasted Vigil - - Alas! what dire mischance is wrought? - A Friend was here who gently sought - An entrance to my humble cot, - Whilst I--O sorrow!--heeded not. - In meekest guise he came and went, - And I, on trifles vain intent, - The joyful greeting still forbore - While he was knocking at my door. - - For me he left a regal throne, - And came in silence, and alone; - No shining guard his steps attend: - O earth! hadst ever such a friend? - And yet I did not rise to meet - Those wearied, patient, wounded feet, - Nor did I shield that kingly head - On which the chill night-dews were shed. - - Oh! did I wake, or did I sleep, - That midnight vigil not to keep? - I knew, and yet I heeded not; - Methought I heard, and then forgot - That he had warned of swift surprise, - And only termed the _watchers_ "wise." - - Dear Bridegroom of my soul! return! - Bereft of every joy, I mourn: - Return! my house, at last, is swept, - And where thy feet have stood, I wept. - Beloved Guest! I call--I wait; - Hope whispers, "It is not too late." - Be then that hope no more deferred, - Speak to my soul the pardoning word, - Then will I list in rapture sweet, - And dwell for ever at thy feet! - - Marie. - Beaver, Pa. - ----- - -{824} - - From Chambers's Journal. - - Old Paris. - - -As with men, so with cities. Whenever one of the latter becomes famous, and -the eyes of the world are fixed upon it, we desire to know more of it than -what is presented on the surface. A thousand little details, trifling, -perhaps, in themselves, share in the interest attaching to the whole to -which they belong. And as the most interesting biographies of great men are -those which not merely make us acquainted with the prominent features of -their lives--with the great exploits which they achieved--but also follow -them into their solitude or home-life, so the most attractive chronicles of -states and cities are those which enter into the seemingly unimportant -minutiae, neglected by the general historian and the compiler of the -guide-book. - -Lutetia (_civitas_) Parisiorum is first mentioned in Caesar's -Commentaries. Lutetia has had various derivations assigned to it, but most -probably it is the Latinized form of _Loutouhezi_, the Celtic for "a -city in the midst of waters," it having been built on an island in the -Seine. In the fourth century it received the name of the people whose chief -city it was. During the middle ages it was supposed that Francus, a son of -Hector, founded Paris, and also Troyes in Champagne, giving to the former -the name of his uncle. In all likelihood, it comes from the Celtic -_par_ or _bar_, a frontier. - -Christianity, according to Gregory of Tours, was first preached to the -Parisians by St. Dionysius, or Denis, in the year 250; and the first synod -held in Paris took place in 360, which seems to prove that the Christian -missionaries had already made numerous converts there. Paganism, however, -was not wholly uprooted until the episcopate of St. Marcellus, who died in -436, and who, according to a legend, is said to have hurled into the Seine -a frightful dragon which desolated the city, and which, perhaps, was the -emblem of heathenism. - -Julian the Apostate had a great liking for Paris, and spent five winters -there. He praises its inhabitants for their intelligence and good conduct, -and the surrounding vineyards for their excellent produce. An edifice, -improperly called the Thermes de Julien, still exists in the Rue de la -Harpe, which perpetuates his memory, and possibly served as his residence. -In his time, the Montagne Ste. Geneviève was a sort of Campus Martius; the -gardens of the Luxembourg were occupied by a Roman camp, and Roman villas -lined both sides of the Seine. - -The Merovingians made Paris their capital, and Clovis constantly resided -there. His sons, while dividing his states, judged the possession of Paris -of so great importance that they shared it among themselves, and agreed -that none of them should enter it without the consent of the others. Under -this dynasty, several of the Parisian churches were founded. Childebert -built the church of St. Vincent, afterward St. Germain des Prés, the -vaulting of each window in which was supported by costly pillars of marble. -Paintings, decorated with gold, covered the ceiling and the walls. The -roof, composed of plates of gilded bronze, when struck by the rays of the -sun, dazzled the eyes of beholders with its brilliancy. - -Under Louis VI. and Louis VII. Paris became celebrated for its schools. The -best known were the Cathedral School, the school of St. Germain des Prés, -and that of Ste. Geneviève. At the first mentioned, Guillaume de Champeaux -taught theology, and counted among his pupils the well-known Abélard, at -the end of the eleventh and beginning of the twelfth century. -{825} -In 1118 Abélard opened on the Montague Ste. Geneviève his famous school, -which soon eclipsed all the others, and at which no less than ten thousand -scholars attended. - -Philip Augustus, judging that Paris was not sufficiently protected by its -walls, caused a tower to be built outside them, on the site of a -_Louveterie_, or wolf-hunting establishment, from which it received -the name of the Louvre. It served at once for a royal residence, a -fortress, and a state-prison, and was completed, according to the original -plan, in 1204. It was under this monarch that the streets of Paris were -first paved. One day, while standing at a window of his palace in the city, -the mud or filth in the street, shaken by some vehicles which were passing, -exhaled an unbearable stench, which invaded the royal nostrils. It was then -that Philip conceived the project of paving the streets. The work was done -at the expense of the town, the pavement consisting of rough flagstones, -about three feet and a half square, and six inches in thickness. - -It was in this reign, in 1182, that the legate of the holy see consecrated -the cathedral of Notre Dame, begun in 1163 by Maurice de Sully, Bishop of -Paris. This immense edifice, however, was not finished till the reign of -Charles VII. in the fifteenth century. The original flooring of Philip -Augustus was lately found at eight or nine feet below the surface; and the -thirteen steps which in his time, it is said, led to the entrance have -disappeared. It was under Philip that the municipality of Paris received -its first developments, and assumed a regular form. Besides the provost, -who, as officer of the king, presided over the courts of justice, there was -the syndic, nominated by the community of merchants, whose duty it was to -protect the commercial interests of the town. He was afterward called the -provost of the merchants, and was assisted by _echevins_, who formed -his council. Under Philip, this officer acquired many new rights. The -police, the streets, the care of public edifices, the administration of the -lands belonging to the town, passed from the provost of Paris to this -functionary. - -Philip was also the patron of learning. He instituted schools in the Rue du -Fouarre. _Fouarre_, or _foare_, from which is derived the -existing _fourrage_, (forage,) is an old French word signifying straw. -The scholars in those simple ages sat upon bundles of straw during the -lectures, and as this custom naturally resulted in the frequent appearance -of that material in the neighborhood of the schools, the street received -its title from it. During the middle ages, no traffic was permitted in this -street, in order to obviate any disturbance to the students. - -Philip the Fair founded the parliament of Paris. It held its sessions in -the king's palace, (Palais de Justice,) which, in the middle of the -fifteenth century, was entirely abandoned to it. In this palace was the -vast hall which served for receiving the homage of vassals, giving audience -to ambassadors, public festivities, and other occasions of national -interest, at one of the extremities of which was an enormous marble table, -round which sovereigns alone were permitted to sit; and upon which, at -certain times of the year, the society of _clercs de la basoche_ -(lawyers' clerks) gave dramatic entertainments of a farcical character. - -In the fourteenth century, as now, Paris was celebrated as the seat of -fashion in dress, though those dazzling _magasins de nouveautés_ which -we now admire there did not then exist. Wearing apparel, as well as other -merchandise, was generally sold by criers in the streets. "They do not -cease to bray from morning till night," writes Guillaume de Villeneuve. -Venders of all classes swelled the discordant concert. To cry goods for -sale was the daily special occupation; among others, of the three hundred -blind men supported by the king, St. Louis. These unfortunates, it seems, -were in the habit of performing their duties without guidance, and the -consequence was that they frequently came in collision, and gave each other -severe contusions. - -{826} - -The first stone of the famous Bastille was laid by the provost of Paris, in -the reign of Charles V., 1369. That formidable edifice was built for the -purpose of protecting the king, who had seen his authority braved by the -Parisians while residing in his palace in the city, which on that account -he quitted. He frequently dwelt in the Louvre, of which the Bastille was a -pendant, and of which M. Vitet gives the following picturesque description -as it was in the fourteenth century: - - "The king caused to be raised outside the moats a number of buildings, - useful and ornamental, of a middling height, forming what were then - called _basses-cours_, and united to the chateau by gardens of - considerable extent. One cannot imagine all the various objects that were - heaped together in these dependencies and gardens. Besides lodgings for - the officers of the crown, there were a menagerie of lions and panthers, - bird-rooms, aviaries for the king's parrots, fish-ponds, basins, - labyrinths, tunnels, trellises, leafy pavilions--the favorite decoration! - of gardens in the middle ages. These parterres, cut in symmetrical - compartments, and thrown in the midst of buildings varying in form and - elevation; that chaos of towers and turrets--the former rising heavily - from the moats, the latter as if suspended from the walls; that pell-mell - of pointed roofs, here covered with lead, there with varnished tiles, - some crested with heavy vanes, some with tufts of various colors--all - this has no resemblance to a modern palace; but that disorder, these - contrasts, which seem to us only barbarously picturesque, appealed quite - differently to the imagination in those days, and were not without their - grandeur and majesty. These were the bright days of the feudal Louvre, - when it was living, peopled, and well cared for." - -The space of ground which, until lately, formed the Marché des Innocents, -was, in the middle ages, the principal cemetery of Paris. It was surrounded -by a sort of vaulted gallery, which was reserved for the corpses of -distinguished persons and for dress-makers' shops. Here, in the year 1424, -the English, who were then masters of Paris, gave a grand fete of rejoicing -for the battle of Verneuil, and indulged in a frightful "dance of the dead" -over the level tombstones. In the middle of the cemetery rose an obelisk, -surmounted by a lamp, which alone feebly illumined at night the field of -the dead, and animated its solitude. But at sunrise all was -changed--daylight brought back with it noise, luxury, and pleasure. - -Victor Hugo, in the chapter of his romance, Notre Dame de Paris, entitled -_Paris à vol d'oiseau_, (book iii. chapter ii.,) gives a vivid -description of the town as it was in the fifteenth century. Paris, -according to him, was at that time divided into three distinct parts--the -city, the university, and the town. The city, occupying the island, was the -oldest and smallest, and was the mother of the other two. "It stood between -these," he says, "like a little, old woman between two tall, handsome -daughters." The university was on the left bank of the Seine, stretching -between points which at present correspond with the Halles aux Vins and La -Monnaie. The town, the largest of the three divisions, was on the right -side of the river. Each of the divisions formed a town, depending for its -completeness upon the others. The city had churches; the town, palaces; the -university, colleges. - -In 1539, Francis I., having given permission to the Emperor Charles V. to -traverse France, entertained the idea of receiving him at the Louvre, which -underwent, on that account, a general restoration, according to the style -of the renaissance; but as soon as the emperor departed, Francis, -perceiving that the new works were merely of a temporary character, -resolved to build a new palace on the same site as the former one, and -confided its erection to Pierre Lescot. -{827} -The building, begun in 1541, was continued till the death of Henry II. It -is the finest portion of the Louvre; the south-west angle. When Catherine -de Médicis came into power, she dismissed Lescot, engaged an Italian -architect, and caused that wing to be built which advances toward the -river. - -In 1564, tired of the Louvre, Catherine bought a piece of ground called the -_Salbonière_, covered with pottery-works, the _Tuileries Saint -Honoré_, and commenced the palace which received its name from the -fabrics which had occupied its site. For six years, the new edifice -steadily progressed; but Catherine, having learned from her astrologer, -Ruggieri, that it was her fate to die under the ruins of a house near St. -Germain, suddenly gave up the works of the Tuileries, because it was in the -parish of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, and built the Hôtel de Soissons, on the -site of the present corn-market. - -The famous Pont-Neuf was begun in 1578, Henry III. laying the first stone. - -The Place Royale was completed in 1612. Here Cardinal Richelieu soon -afterward built a palace, which he called the Palais Cardinal, but which, -in a spirit of regal munificence, he presented to his king, Louis XIII. -Thenceforth it became the Palais Royal. Numerous hotels of the -_noblesse_ sprang up in the same quarter, and with them first appeared -there the warehouses for _bijouterie_ and other fancy goods, for which -the Palais Royal is at present so celebrated. A writer of that time -severely blames the merchants of these shops for permitting their wives to -flirt with customers--"all to induce them to buy a fashionable collar, a -child's purse, a drachm or two of perfume for the perruques or a boy's -wooden sword." Speaking of perruques, we must not omit to mention that they -reached their full development at the time of Louis Quatorze. Their most -celebrated maker was a M. Binet, from whom they sometimes were called -_binettes_. They weighed several pounds, sometimes cost a thousand -crowns, and rose five or six inches above the brow. The word _binette_ -still exists in the language of the Paris _gamin_, designating a -person with a droll countenance. - -The last insurrection at Paris before the revolution was that called the -_Fronde_, (sling.) This revolt received its name in a singular manner. -In the moat of the town, near Saint Roch, the little boys of the quarter -used to fight with slings. When the constable appeared, they all took to -their heels. In the disputes of the parliament, a young counsellor, -Bauchaumont, observed the modesty and docility of the members in the -presence of the king, and their turbulence in his absence. "They are quiet -just now," said he, "but, when he is gone, they will sling (_on -frondera_) with a will." The word remained. The Fronde soon gained the -whole town, which eagerly took the side of the insurgents, as the first -cause of the troubles was a new tax on houses built outside the walls. -Afterward, when the rebellion was quelled, the Parisians paid dearly for -their share in it. Their privileges were abolished, a royal garrison took -the place of their civic guards, and magistrates dependent on the crown, -that of the municipal authorities. - -Deprived of its independence, it became the sole glory of Paris to be the -stage on which the splendors of the court of Louis XIV. were revealed. In -1662, that king gave an idea of what his reign would cost by the famous -_fète du carrousel_, which has left its name to the vast _place_ -between the Louvre and the Tuileries. It cost 1,200,000 francs. Gold and -silver were employed in so great profusion on the trappings of the horses, -that the material of which they were made could not be distinguished from -the embroidery with which it was covered. The king and the princes shone -with the prodigious quantity of diamonds with which their arms and the -harness of their horses were covered. -{828} -About the same time the Tuileries and the Louvre were completed, and a -garden was designed for the former by Le Nôtre. The former garden of the -Tuileries, like other ancient French gardens, comprised a strange medley; -among other objects, it contained a pretty little abode, beside the quay, -and mysteriously concealed by a thick grove, which Louis XIII. had given to -his valet-de-chambre, Renard, who had furnished it with rare and costly -articles, and had made it a secret rendezvous for young seigneurs, and the -scene of luxurious _petits soupers_. - -It was in 1669 that Soliman Aga, the Turkish ambassador at the French -court, introduced the use of coffee into Paris. The first café was opened -at the _foire_ St. Germain, which was then one of the most frequented -and fashionable places of resort in the town, and the suppression of which, -toward the end of the eighteenth century, went far to destroy the industry -and commerce of the left bank of the river, to the profit of the right. An -Armenian named Pascal afterward established a _café_, which was much -in vogue, called the Manouri, upon the Quai de l'Ecole; and, in 1689, a -Sicilian, Procopio, opened the Café Procope in the present Rue de -l'Ancienne Comédie, which was for long the favorite place of reunion for -the _savans_ and _beaux-esprits_ of the period. - -But the café reminds us that we are leaving Paris in old times for the -Paris of the present, and that we are close upon that blood-written page, -the revolution, which divides the chronicles of the former from those of -the latter. These notes must not be brought to a conclusion without the -acknowledgment that from M. Malte-Brun's laborious compilation, La France -Illustrée, they derive whatever archaeological interest they possess. - ------- - - Original. - - The Churches of Ireland--Ancient and Modern. - - -Students of Irish topography are sometimes at a loss to account for so many -names of places in that island bearing the prefix "Kil." The explanation of -this seeming want of inventive nomenclature is that the word Kil is an -abbreviation or corruption of the vernacular _Cill_, a church; thus, -Kilkenny means the church of St. Canice, or Kenny; Kilmore, the great -church, _more_ meaning, in the Irish, great or large; Kildare, church -of the oak, from _daire_, oak. In the early ages of Christianity the -church or abbey was to the people of Ireland what the feudal castle or -walled town was to the inhabitants of the continent of Europe, at once a -rallying point in case of danger, and a common centre where learning, -trade, and the mechanical arts found teachers and patrons. - -The Irish, before and long after their conversion, were essentially an -agricultural people, caring little for large towns; and, though insular, -seem to have neglected foreign commerce, except such as flowed from their -periodical incursions in Britain and Gaul, or which necessarily arose out -of their emigration from the north of Ireland to Scotland. Hence we find -that, while most of the inland cities and towns bear the name of some -favorite saint or church, the seaports generally owe their origin and name -to the Danes and Anglo-Normans. - -{829} - -The first Catholic churches erected in Ireland, of which we have any -authentic account, were three in number, built in the present counties of -Wicklow and Wexford, by Palladius, A.D. 430. It seems that this missionary -landed on the Wexford coast in that year, accompanied by four priests, but, -having met with opposition from the Druids and persecution from the local -chiefs, he returned the following year to Britain, leaving, however, behind -him some converts under the care of two of his assistants. We are told by -the annalists that, before his departure, he deposited in the church of -Cellfine, some relics of Sts. Peter and Paul and other saints, the sacred -books, and his own writing-tablets, all of which were preserved with great -veneration for many years afterward. - -But the great church planter in Ireland was Patrick, the son of Potitus, -who commenced his task of a nation's conversion, with all the advantages of -a personal knowledge of the people and their language, a matured judgment, -profound learning, piety chastened by exile and long-suffering, and an -unconquerable faith. His first convert after landing, in 432, was a chief -named Dicho, who in proof of his sincerity built, at his own expense, a -church near Lecale, in Down, which was called _Sabhall Padruic_, -(Patrick's Barn.) Thence the saint proceeded to Tara, in Meath, where, as -it is well known, he appeared before the monarch Leogaire, and, though his -preaching made no impression on the heart of that stern pagan, he baptized -many of the Druids, poets, and courtiers. By St. Patrick's direction two -churches were built in the neighborhood, one at Drumcondrah, and the other -at Drumshallon, near the present town of Drogheda. Having thus stormed the -enemy's citadel, he advanced confidently to capture the outworks. He passed -westward through Connaught to the sea; thence returning to Ulster, he spent -some time in Down, Antrim, Ardmagh, and other northern counties; he next -visited the different parts of Leinster, and finally entered the populous -province of Munster, then a separate kingdom, and planted the standard of -the cross in the royal city of Cashel. He remained about seven years in -Munster, when, his mission having been successfully completed, he retraced -his steps to his favorite place in Down, in 452. Three years afterward he -founded the metropolitan see of Armagh, erected a cathedral on land given -him for that purpose by Daire, and thus laid the foundation of the primacy -of Ireland, and the city of that name. "Suitable edifices were annexed to -the cathedral for the accommodation of the clergy, and adjacent to it were -several religious retreats, in which members of both sexes, forsaking the -world, made a sacrifice of all to the Great Author of their existence." -[Footnote 300] - - [Footnote 300: Ecclesiastical History of Ireland, Brenan.] - -The extraordinary success of this great missionary is without a parallel in -the history of the church. In the course of twenty years a whole people, -rulers and princes, men and women, were won over to Christianity, without -the shedding of a drop of human blood, or even any serious opposition. Sees -were founded in all parts of the island, churches and monasteries built, -bishops consecrated and priests ordained, and, in fact, the moral and -social condition of the entire population revolutionized. Nor was this a -triumph over weak-minded or stolid barbarians, for we find that from his -neophytes St. Patrick chose his bishops and priests almost exclusively--men -whose genius and ability became in the service of the church second only to -his own. It might also be supposed that impressions so suddenly produced -would be transitory, did we not know how irradicably fixed in the Irish -heart is the faith he taught and the doctrine he expounded. - -The sees of Ardagh, Clogher, Emly, and Elphin were founded during the -life-time of St. Patrick, and fifteen others of lesser note before the -close of the century. -{830} -The cathedral of Kildare, second only in extent and magnificence to that of -Armagh, was built about the year 490, and belonged jointly to the diocesan -and the nunnery of St. Brigid. It is described as having been divided by a -partition beyond the sanctuary; the bishop and clergy entering the church -by a door on the north, and the abbess and her community by a door on the -south side. In all the sees thus founded, cathedrals, churches, -monasteries, schools, and nunneries were erected. History records the -building of twenty-one monasteries and schools of great celebrity in the -fifth century, besides many others of minor reputation. The schools of Emly -at one time contained six hundred scholars; those of Louth are said to have -educated one hundred bishops and three hundred priests, while the great -institution of Mungret contained within its walls six churches, and, -besides its scholars, fifteen hundred religious, equally divided into -learned preachers, psalmists, and persons devoted to contemplation and -works of charity. At this time, also, St. Brigid founded several nunneries, -the most celebrated of which was that of Kildare. - -The following century saw seventeen more sees founded and cathedrals built, -including those of Dromore, Ossory, Tuam, Clonfert, and Down; while, to -meet the growing demand for Christian education, four principal colleges -were erected in different parts of the kingdom--Clonard in Meath, Clonfert -in Galway, Clonmacnois in Kings county, and Bangor in Down. The number of -students educated in the last mentioned was at one time not less than three -thousand. Forty-four new monasteries and abbeys are named in the annals of -the sixth century, besides many others forgotten in history. Even the place -whereon stood the famous monastery of Inniscathy, established at the mouth -of the Shannon at this period, is now only marked by a small portion of the -ruins of its round tower, while that of Glendaloch, perhaps from its -romantic surroundings, is somewhat better preserved. Speaking of the ruins -of the latter as seen some years since, the learned author of the -Ecclesiastical History of Ireland says: - - "The venerable ruins of Glendaloch, even at this day, present an awful - and an interesting picture to the mind of the curious and contemplative - stranger. Among these must be noticed the church of the Trinity, standing - on a rising ground north of the abbey. The seven churches, which in - former days were the pride and glory of Glendaloch, and for which it will - be celebrated even when the vestiges now remaining are no more. The - Cathedral church, with its curious doors, jambs and lintels, and its - round tower, one hundred and ten feet high, rising up in its ancient - grandeur amidst the prostrate ruins which surround it. Our Lady's church, - the most westward of the seven, and nearly opposite the cathedral, is in - ruins; but these very ruins speak volumes, and the scattered monuments, - crosses, and inscriptions refresh the memory, and fill the mind with new - and painful thoughts. St. Kevin's kitchen, so called, and undoubtedly one - of the seven churches, is entire; together with its architraves, fretted - arches, and round belfry, forty-five feet high. The finger of time alone - and of human neglect seem to have wrought the work of desolation in this - part of the building. The Rhefeart, or the Sepulchre of Kings, is - rendered famous for having seven kings interred within its walls. The Ivy - church stands to the westward, with its unroofed walls overgrown with - ivy. The Priory of St. Saviour is a complete ruin. Tampull-na-Skellig, in - the recess of the mountain, was formerly called the Temple of the Desert, - and whither the austere fathers of the abbey were wont to retire on - vigils and days of particular mortification. The celebrated bed of St. - Kevin, on the south side of the lough, and hanging perpendicularly at a - frightful height over the surface of the waters, is another object in - which the mind of the antiquary would be much gratified; and on the same - side of the mountain are to be seen the remains of a small stone - building, called St. Kevin's cell." - -The next two centuries added Ferns, Cork, Killaloe, and eleven other sees, -with their cathedrals and churches, and fifty-five principal schools, -monasteries, and abbeys. During the ninth and tenth centuries we find only -two sees created, and no mention of additional monasteries or schools. This -may be accounted for by the continual incursions of the Northmen, a swarm -of barbarians whose native element seems to have been the ocean and whose -only end and object were bloodshed and rapine. -{831} -From 807 until the decisive battle of Clontarf in 1012, they perpetrated an -uninterrupted series of raids on Ireland, and even sometimes held the -larger portion of the country in subjection. Landing from their ships at -remote and undefended points on the coast, they marched stealthily into the -interior, marking their paths with the blood of the defenceless -inhabitants, sparing neither age, sex, nor condition in their fury, and -bearing off or destroying every species of property. Churches were given to -the flames, the relics of the saints stolen or scattered to the winds, -monks, nuns, and students put to the sword without mercy or remorse. In one -of those incursions Bangor was plundered and nine hundred monks -slaughtered. Armagh was sacked and its cathedral destroyed. Cork, Ferns, -and Taghmon shared the same fate, while the city of Kildare, its cathedral -and nunnery were razed, and their inhabitants massacred or carried into -slavery. Clonmacnois was thirteen times plundered, and scarcely a religious -house on the island but received at least one visit from the sacrilegious -invaders. - -After a long and brilliant career an eclipse seemed to have fallen on the -church in Ireland, her monasteries were in ruins, her priesthood -slaughtered, and her schools deserted. But the genius of one great man was -put forth to save the people. Brian, surnamed Boroimhe, King of Munster, -and monarch of Ireland, after repeated victories drove the Danes out of his -kingdom, and, finally, by his last great battle, destroyed their power for -ever in Ireland. The remnant of the once dreaded enemy, embracing the faith -of their conquerors, were permitted, upon paying tribute, to settle along -the coast for the purpose of foreign traffic. This great king during his -long reign did much to reinstate the church in possession of her property, -and to repair the damages of two centuries of organized plunder, and his -successors continued to follow his example. Even the converted Danes -imbibed the prevailing spirit of restitution. The see of Dublin was -established in 1040, and its cathedral, consecrated to the Holy Trinity, -(now Christ's church,) was built by Bishop Donatus. The see of Waterford -was founded in 1096, and its splendid cathedral, also under the invocation -of the Holy Trinity, erected by Malchus, its first bishop; and the -celebrated priory of Selsker, in Wexford, was established by the new -converts some few years afterward. The see of Ardfert was founded in the -middle of the eleventh century, and that of Derry about one hundred years -subsequently. - -It is reasonable to infer that most of the early Irish ecclesiastical -structures of any magnitude were of wood, with perhaps a stone tower or -stronghold to serve as a depository for sacred vessels, libraries, etc., -and for defence in case of actual attack. Dr. Petrie, in his great book on -Round Towers, produces convincing proofs that these curious specimens of -architecture, some seventy of which still remain more or less well -preserved, were intended for these purposes. Ireland at the time of Saint -Patrick was densely wooded, oak being predominant, and where so many -extensive buildings had to be erected in so limited a time no more -convenient and suitable, though certainly very destructible, material could -be used. This, as well as the ravages of time and foreign invasion, will -explain the fact that so many of the sites of our primitive edifices are -recognized only by local tradition. The art of building in stone was indeed -known in the country before the introduction of Christianity, but it was -not generally applied to church purposes till about the beginning of the -twelfth century. - -When Cormac McCulinan was appointed to the see of Cashel, it is recorded -that he built a cathedral in that city in the latter part of the ninth -century, which, according to the annals of the priory of the Island of all -Saints, was not long after rebuilt and consecrated with great ceremony. -{832} -Whether the beautiful ruin now called Cormac's chapel owes its origin to -the warrior bishop or to a successor of the same name is a mooted question -among antiquarians, as the records of the succession in this diocese are -very imperfect. However, it must have been erected at an early age, for we -find that in 1170 Donald O'Brian, King of North Munster, built the -cathedral of St. Patrick in his royal city of Cashel, and the former church -of Cormac was converted into a chapter-house, on the south side of the -choir. Bishop O'Heden in 1420 repaired and beautified St. Patrick's and -erected a hall for the vicars choral. In the same year that Donal O'Brian -built St. Patrick's he also caused to be constructed the beautiful -cathedral of St. Mary's in Limerick, endowing it liberally, and it existed -in great splendor until the Reformation, when it shared the general fate of -all such noble institutions. - -The cathedral of St. Patrick, in Down, was rebuilt on the site of the old -one by St. Malachy in 1138, and forty years afterward was enlarged by one -of his successors and a namesake. About this time it was dedicated to St. -Patrick, having been formerly consecrated to the Most Holy Trinity, a -favorite name, it would appear, for cathedrals in the early centuries of -Christianity. - -St. Mary's, at Tuam, was built in 1152, by O'Connor, King of Ireland, and -Bishop O'Hoisin, the first archbishop of that see; in 1260 it was enlarged -and a new choir added. Finally, it was given over by Henry VIII. to an -apostate named Bodkin. - -St. Columba's, in Derry, was built in 1164, by King Maurice MacLaughlin. It -also had to succumb to the reformers who settled in Ulster, and the present -Protestant cathedral of that town was built on its ruins, by the "London -Company," in 1633. - -The majestic cathedral of Kilkenny, dedicated to St. Canice, was commenced -in 1178, by Bishop Felix O'Dullany, and was finished by Bishop St. Leger in -1286. Some years later it was altered and beautified by Bishop Ledred, and -at the time of the Reformation was considered one of the most beautifully -situated buildings in Europe. - -The cathedral of the Holy Trinity, in Waterford, was built about the -beginning of the eleventh century. Its subsequent fate is thus related by a -recent Protestant writer: [Footnote 301] - - [Footnote 301: Ireland and her Churches, by James Godkin.] - - "The old cathedral, or rather the oldest part of the first cathedral of - Waterford, was built in 1096, by the Ostmen, on their' conversion from - paganism; and about two centuries later it was endowed by King John, a - dean and chapter having been appointed under the sanction of Innocent - III. Endowments of various kinds had accumulated from age to age, till - the Reformation, when the old altars were thrown down and the ornaments - defaced. During the rebellions and wars that followed, its most costly - treasures were carried away, with the brass ornaments of the tombs, the - great standing pelican which supported the Bible, the immense - candlesticks, six or seven feet high, the great brazen font, which was - ascended by three stairs made of solid brass, and various gold and - silver-gilt vessels. In 1773 the dean and chapter pronounced the old - building so much decayed as to be unsafe for public worship, and - unfortunately resolved that the whole pile should be taken down and - replaced by a new edifice." - -It will be seen that some of those lasting monuments of Irish skill and -piety were raised subsequent to the English invasion, but the advent of the -Norman soldiers was destined soon to dry up the springs of public -munificence, if not to exterminate the old race, and obliterate the faith -of St. Patrick. The Anglo-Norman of the twelfth century, though professing -Christianity, was at heart as much a pagan as the race from which he -sprung. He was brave, cunning, cruel, and rapacious. His greediness could -not withstand any inducement to plunder, even though sacrilege had to be -added to robbery; and he generally had courage and skill enough to carry -out his intentions. He was neither an Englishman nor a Frenchman, but a -compound of elements common to the worst classes of both races, -super-induced on the genuine, old northern barbarism. He was, in fact, the -prototype of the modern filibuster, and, though given to fighting, -preferred the spoils to the glory of warfare. -{833} -Like most of his class in every age and country, he substituted -superstition for religion, and became only generous of his goods when death -threatened to snatch them from his grasp. When reduced to Protestantism by -act of parliament, it is unnecessary to say that even the check of remorse, -weak as it was, was removed, and the spoliation of gifts given to God and -his poor sat as lightly on his conscience as his coronet or crown sat on -his head. Consequently, from the landing of Strongbow and his friends until -the Reformation, the wars which ensued against the natives were -occasionally diversified by the plunder of a rich abbey, or the burning of -a church, while now and then we read of an institution being founded by -some repentant lord of the Pale, from which all "mere Irish" were excluded. - -There were, indeed, a few men who came into Ireland in the track of its -invaders, who were men of true piety. Among these may be classed John -Cornin, archbishop of Dublin. It was he who, in 1190, built St. Patrick's -collegiate church in that city, and repaired and beautified Holy Trinity; -St. Lawrence O'Toole having, eighteen years before, added to its original -dimensions by building a choir, belfry, and three chapels. Those two noble -buildings are still in use by the Protestants of Dublin, and but little -changed since their Catholic days. St. Patrick's has been renovated and -improved through the liberality of a public-spirited merchant. Though ever -dear to the Catholic hearts of Dublin for its old memories; its fame, since -it has fallen into the possession of its present occupants, rests only in -its association with the name of the gifted and eccentric Swift, whose -flashes of wit and sly sarcasms were wont to arouse his drowsy -congregation. - -Notwithstanding the impoverished condition of the people, and the -insecurity of life and property, during the wars of the twelfth, -thirteenth, fourteenth, and early part of the fifteenth centuries, we find -the following religious houses established throughout the country: Priories -of the Canons Regular of St. Augustin, 20; abbeys of the Cistercian order, -29; convents of the Dominican order, 23; of the Franciscan order, 56; of -the Augustan order, 21; of the Carmelite order, 24; commanderies of Knights -Templar, 11. This latter order was suppressed about the middle of the -fourteenth century, and its property given to the Hospitallers. - -But a new era now commenced in the history of the church. To the bitterness -of national hate were to be added bloody persecution and wholesale -confiscation. Henry VIII. had commenced his quarrel with the pope, and, -with the vain intention of revenging himself on his holiness, he turned -reformer, initiated a state religion, and unanimously elected himself head -of the same. But Henry Tudor had method in his madness, and knew well that -the best way to convert his Anglo-Irish subjects was by appealing to their -old passion for plunder. Accordingly, his lord deputy, St. Ledger, in 1536, -summoned, what was in that age called a parliament, and this assembly, -representing nobody but the hirelings about the deputy, with one fell swoop -confiscated three hundred and seventy monasteries and abbeys, whose yearly -value amounted to £32,000, while their movables amounted to more than three -times that amount. A year or two later all religious houses were suppressed -and their property turned over to the king. - -That this atrocious spoliation of the patrimony of the church and the -property of the poor had not even the pretext of being perpetrated to -replenish the treasury of an impoverished, state may be inferred from the -words of Ware, who, in his life of this new Defender of the Faith, says: -"Henry soon after disposed of the possessions of the religious orders to -his nobles, courtiers, and others, reserving to himself certain revenue or -annual rents." -{834} -This exhibition of royal magnificence at once convinced the aforesaid -"nobles and courtiers" that Henry was the veritable Head of the Church, not -only in England, but in Ireland also, and they hastened to accept his gifts -and his new religion with equal alacrity. The cathedrals and churches had -now to be disposed of. That portion of the laity described as nobles and -courtiers was well provided for, and the clergy had to be satisfied; a new -religion, Henry wisely thought, would not look well without churches and a -hierarchy. Pliant tools of the school of Cranmer and Cromwell were sent -over from England, who shielded by the military power of the deputy, and -aided by a few apostates of native growth, were fraudulently inducted into -Irish sees. While Brown, who had become archbishop of Dublin, was burning -in the public streets the sacred image of our crucified Redeemer, taken -from the abbey of Ballibogan, and the crosier of St. Patrick, rifled from -Holy Trinity; the lord deputy was "gutting" the old cathedral of Down, -violating the graves of Ireland's three greatest saints, and destroying -their sacred relics. As these acts did not bring enlightenment to the minds -of the benighted Catholics, a more general system of devastation was -adopted. All the churches were seized and their sacred vessels and -ornaments appropriated as legitimate spoils, by the "reformed clergy," -while such of the buildings as were not required for the preachers of the -new evangel were converted into barracks or stables. The people, though -decimated and dispirited by long and disastrous wars, were too much -attached to the ancient faith not to resist those iniquitous proceedings; -but fire, sword, famine, and pestilence pursued them everywhere, martyred -their priests, and laid their homes and their fields desolate. - -What Henry commenced, his son, and worthy daughter Elizabeth, followed up; -Cromwell's troopers nearly left the country a desert; and the vacillating -and treacherous Stuarts added, if possible, to its already degraded -condition. So abject was the state of the population in the time of William -of Orange, that his penal laws, and those of the house of Hanover -subsequently enacted, though in themselves most atrocious, were -comparatively harmless, so well had the scythe of persecution been wielded -by their predecessors. Even as late as the middle of the last century, the -Catholics, still the bulk of the population, were sunk in the most pitiful -misery and prostration; their priests churchless and outcasts before the -laws, their monks and nuns banished or fled the country; or, if any -remained of the once splendid institutions of piety and charity, they were -to be found secreted in the purlieus of the larger towns, stealthily -attending the sick and consoling, if unable to relieve, the wants of the -poor. "No places of public worship were permitted," says the author of the -History of Dublin, "and the clergyman moved his altar-books and everything -necessary for the celebration of his religious rites from house to house -among such of his flock as were enabled in this way to support an itinerant -domestic chaplain; while for the poorer part some waste house or stable in -a remote or retired situation was selected, and here the service was -silently and secretly performed, unobserved by the public eye." Indeed, in -many counties the people suffered worse; children were unbaptized, men and -women unmarried, the dying deprived of the last consolations of religion, -and the poor and infirm left to the cold charity of an unfeeling and -hostile minority. The force of persecution could go no further. The -experiment of conversion by force had been tried with a vengeance, and had -signally failed. It was evident that utter extermination or reaction must -follow. - -Fortunately for the honor of humanity it was the latter. God was with his -people in their afflictions and hearkened to their prayers. Slowly the -light of toleration broke upon the darkened minds of the dominant -Protestant party, and, though but the merest glimmer at first, gradually -and steadily gained in intensity. -{835} -One hundred and twenty years ago the first chapel tolerated by law was -publicly opened in Dublin; the more atrocious of the penal laws fell into -disuse; chapels, poor indeed, and monasteries, feeble in their very sense -of insecurity, commenced to raise their humble heads. Protestant gentlemen -of liberal views found a voice in the Irish and English parliaments. -Maynooth and Carlow colleges were established; a great and fearless -Catholic, O'Connell, arrayed his coreligionists in solid phalanx in defence -of their rights; and, finally, the British government, abashed at the scorn -of Christendom, and yielding to fears of internal revolution, consented to -emancipation. Of the many causes which led to this tardy act of justice the -moral effect of religious freedom in the United States and the conduct of -our Catholic immigrants during the revolution were not among the least -effective. - -Turning from the past with all its varied trials and defeats, it is -pleasant to dwell on the condition of Catholic Ireland of to-day, with its -churches, monasteries, colleges, and schools innumerable. Of the city of -Dublin, where the Reformation made its first attacks, and where, at the -beginning of the century, there were but a few poor chapels and "friaries," -we find the following picture drawn by one who, though not a Catholic nor -of Catholic sympathies, is too clear-minded to shut his eyes to the actual -condition of affairs around him. He says: [Footnote 302] - - [Footnote 302: Ireland and Her Churches. By James Godkin. This very - able book has just been published in England, and, though written by a - Protestant and a devoted believer in the opinions of that sect, is full - of very valuable information regarding the present condition of the - Catholics of Ireland.] - - "There are now thirty-two churches and - chapels in Dublin and its vicinity. In the diocese the total number of - secular clergy is 287, and of regulars, 125; total, priests, 412. The - number of nuns is 1150. Besides the Catholic university, with its ample - staff of professors, there are in the diocese six colleges, seven - superior schools for boys, fourteen superior schools for ladies, twelve - monastic primary schools, forty convent schools, and 200 lay schools, - without including those which are under the National Board of Education. - The Christian Brothers have 7000 pupils under their instruction, while - the schools connected with the convents in the diocese contain 15,000. - Besides Maynooth, which is amply endowed by the state, and contains 500 - or 600 students, all designed for the priesthood, there is the college of - All Hallows, at Drumcondra, in which 250 young men are being trained for - the foreign mission. The Roman Catholic charities of the city are varied - and numerous. There are magnificent hospitals, one of which especially-- - the Mater Misericordiae--has been not inappropriately called 'The Palace - of the Sick Poor'--numerous orphanages, several widows' houses, and other - refuges for virtuous women; ragged and industrial schools, night asylums, - penitentiaries, reformatories, institutions for the blind and deaf and - dumb; institutions for relieving the poor at their own houses, and - Christian doctrine fraternities almost innumerable. All these wonderful - organizations of religion and charity are supported wholly on the - voluntary principle, and they have nearly all sprung into existence - within half a century." - -Miss Fannie Taylor, an English lady, in a recent work entitled Irish Homes -and Irish Hearts, admirably describes, from personal and minute -examination, the efficiency, success, and untiring devotion of the numerous -orders of holy women, whose houses everywhere are to be found in and around -the capital. Every conceivable want, every ill that flesh is heir to, finds -at their busy and gentle hands an alleviation and a soothing remedy. The -daughters of the rich are taught their duties to themselves and to society; -the children of the poor are gratuitously trained in all the necessary arts -of life; the orphan has a refuge; the sick are visited and comforted; even -the outcast woman, the loathing of the worldly of her own sex, is taken by -the hand and gently led back to the path of virtue. Hospitals; asylums for -the blind, the deaf and dumb, have been built by them, generally out of -their own slender means; and even the raving maniac and drivelling idiot -find a shelter and a home. Wherever death, sickness, poverty, ignorance, -crime, or affliction is, there also is to be found the "sister," consoling, -helping, teaching, admonishing, always gentle, patient, and cheerful. -{836} -"I would speak," said the writer, in her introductory chapter, "of that -marvellous net of religious institutions spread over the land, and of those -deeds of charity which in reality form a powerful element in Irish life." -Words as truthful as they are applicable. - -Following Mr. Godkin in what he calls his "Inspection of Bishoprics," -(Protestant of course,) we come to the diocese of Ferns, embracing the -county of Wexford. "Here, then," says the inspector, "is a population that -seems naturally fitted in a preeminent degree for the reception of -Protestantism;" but he found himself mistaken. In the very cradle of -Catholicity in Ireland he could not find even one out of every ten who even -professed to be Protestants. He is equally surprised at the respect and -veneration in which our blessed mother was held in this diocese of -"industrious, self-reliant, and independent" men, and acknowledges his -astonishment gracefully enough: - - "I had plenty of proofs of this in the town of Wexford, where there are - two splendid new churches, with grand towers, built almost exactly alike, - in cathedral style; erected also at the same time, and chiefly through - the exertions of the same priest. One of them is called the church of the - Immaculate Conception, and the other the church of the Assumption; both, - therefore, specially dedicated to the Virgin Mary. There could be no - mistake about this in the mind of any one visiting these splendid places - of worship, which are fitted up admirably with seats to the very doors, - finished in the most approved style, and with a degree of taste that - would do honor to the best cathedrals in England. Behind the high altar - there is a very large window of stained glass, and a similar one of - smaller dimensions at each side. To the right is Mary's chapel, with an - altar brilliant and gorgeous in the extreme. There is a beautiful statue - of the Virgin and Child, before which three lamps were burning during the - day, and in the evening eight or nine dozen of candles are lighted, while - ten or twelve vases are filled with a variety of flowers, kept constantly - fresh, and producing the most brilliant and dazzling effects for the - worshippers, who are nearly all attracted to this favorite altar, the - beauty and splendor of which throw the altar of Christ completely in the - shade. Generally, indeed, the Saviour appears only agonized on the cross, - his hands fastened with nails, and the blood flowing from his pierced - side, or else lying dead and ghastly in the sepulchre. It is only the - Virgin that appears arrayed in beauty, crowned with majesty, and - encircled with glory. Her altar in the Wexford church of the Assumption - is decorated in the same style as the Immaculate Conception, but not with - so much elaboration. Great local sacrifices must have been made for the - erection and furnishing of these two churches, with their magnificent - towers and spires, but much of the money came from Great Britain and the - colonies; and to a question which I put on the subject to my guide, I - received for answer that it came 'from all parts of the habitable world.' - - "But, beautiful as those two new churches are, they are surpassed in - internal decorations by the Franciscan church of this town. This is a - perfect gem in its way so elegantly painted and ornamented, and so nicely - kept, so bright and cheering in its aspect, and evincing such regard to - comfort in all its arrangements, that we can easily conceive it to be a - very popular and fashionable place of worship. It is not cruciform, but - built in the shape of an L. To the left of the principal altar, at the - junction of the two portions, stands in impressive prominence the altar - of the Virgin Mary, which is covered by an elevated canopy, resting upon - white and blue pillars with golden capitals. Upon the altar stands a - beautiful marble statue of the Virgin. Three lamps burn constantly before - it. One hundred candles are lighted round it in the evening with half a - dozen gas-burners. Floral ornaments are in the greatest profusion and - variety. There are four large stands on the altar floor, two others - higher up on the pedestal, and a number of small vases with bouquets - ranged on the altar. The friary attached to the church presents a picture - of order, neatness, and cleanliness which seemed to be a reflection of - the characteristics of the 'English baronies,' showing how national - idiosyncrasies and social circumstances affect religion. In fact, a - community of Quakers could not keep their establishment in better order - than these Franciscans keep their friary. I observed a great contrast in - this respect in the Roman Catholic establishments of Waterford and - Thurles. Wexford, indeed, is quite a model town in the Roman Catholic - Church. There are three other places of worship besides those already - mentioned--the college chapel and the nunnery chapels, and certainly - there are no people in the world, perhaps, not excepting the Romans - themselves, more abundantly supplied with masses. There is a mass for - workingmen at five o'clock in the morning, there are masses daily during - the week at later hours, and no less than six or seven on Sundays in each - of the principal chapels, or churches as they are now generally called. - The college is a large building, and in connection with it is the - residence of the bishop, Dr. Furlong." - -{837} - -What has here been remarked of Dublin and Ferns may be said with equal -justice of other parts of Ireland. Kildare and Leighlin has its splendid -cathedral, the corner-stone of which was laid in Carlow in 1828, by the -celebrated Dr. Doyle. Cork has its fine churches, schools, and monasteries. -Of the cathedral of the diocese of Kerry, Miss Taylor says: - - "The great ornament of Killarney is the cathedral, the only one I have - seen in Ireland worthy of the name. It is one of Pugin's happiest - conceptions. The tower is not yet built, and this of course greatly - detracts from the beauty of the exterior; but within, the great height of - the roof, the noble pillars, the sense of space and grandeur, made one - think of some of the beautiful cathedrals of old of our own and foreign - lands." - -In the archdiocese of Tuam, where some years since the Most Rev. Dr. Kelly, -the predecessor of the present patriotic prelate, said that out of one -hundred and twenty-one places of worship one hundred and six "were thatched -cabins," there are now three hundred and eighty-seven churches, three -hundred and eighty-two clergymen, and fifty-four religious houses. - -Armagh has again risen from the ashes of the past, and again a beautiful -metropolitan cathedral appears on the spot hallowed by St. Patrick. The -corner-stone of this beautiful building was laid by the Most Rev. Dr. -Crolly, primate, on the 17th of March, 1840. The increase of churches in -this diocese from 1800 to 1864 has been ninety-three; convents and schools, -twenty-four. - -Such is the outward visible sign of the progress of the church in Ireland -for the last hundred years. What though the wind sighs mournfully through -the broken arches of many a church and cloister, made sacred by the saintly -men who prayed and taught fourteen centuries ago; though the fern and the -ivy grow up and cement a thousand crumbling ruins, which in their -desolation attest at the same time man's passion and his impotence; let -them be as silent teachers of the past and of its glorious memories and -bitter persecution. But the people of Ireland have the present, they are -working not only for themselves, but for the future; and they, too, will be -known to after generations by the monuments they are now building as their -forefathers built; by their churches, convents, and colleges, which shall -exist, even though in ruins, in the grateful memories of coming ages. - ------- - -{838} - - From The Dublin Review. - - John Tetzel. [Footnote 303] - - [Footnote 303: Tetzel und Luther, oder Lebensgeschichte und - Rechtfertigung des Ablasspredigers und Inquisitors, Dr. Johann Tetzel, - aus dem Predigerorden. Von Valentin Gröne, Doctor der Theologie. Soest - und Olpe. Verlag der Nasse'schen Buchhandlung. 1853. (pp. 237.)] - -Of all Luther's contemporary opponents none experienced so much of his -foul-mouthed vituperation as the Dominican preacher of indulgences, John -Tetzel--a vituperation which Protestant writers, down to the present day, -have not ceased, with unmitigated virulence, to heap upon his memory. - -Nor have Catholic writers done much to defend Tetzel's calumniated -reputation. On the contrary, they have in general allowed themselves to be -deluded by Protestant prejudice, and so to have abstained from referring, -in his behalf, to original sources of information. This unworthy course -they have pursued as though they viewed Tetzel in the light of a personage -not worth quarrelling about, whom, without detriment to the church, they -might safely abandon to the enemy, nay, whom it might perhaps be as well -thus to abandon. They were fully aware that it was not for preaching Pope -Leo's indulgence that Luther really attacked Tetzel. The indulgence was but -the pretext seized by Luther for openly broaching the heretical opinions -which, ever since the year 1515, he had secretly formed. Neither did Luther -owe his success to the alleged abuses of the papal indulgence. He owed his -success to the wide-spread moral corruption of his times. Had Leo X. -proclaimed no indulgence at all, Luther's calamitous Reformation could -hardly have been prevented. - -Three Protestant biographies of John Tetzel have been written in Germany. -The earliest, written by Godfried Hecht in Latin, appeared in 1707. About -the same time a Life of Tetzel, in German, was published by Jacob Vogel. -The third, a compilation of both, is by Friedrich Hoffmann, and appeared at -Leipsic in 1844. They are all three, more or less, just such _ex -parte_ productions as might be expected, full of obloquy founded on -garbled quotations and falsified facts. The most virulent is Hoffmann's -book, the least so Hecht's. In copiousness of original research, Vogel far -surpasses Hecht and Hoffmann. As a counterpoise to these biographies the -Catholic party produced nothing till the year 1817. An anonymous work then -appeared at Frankfort-on-the-Main, entitled Vertraute Briefe zweier -Katholiken über den Ablass Streit Dr. Martin Luthers wider Dr. Johann -Tetzel. This work is supposed to have been written by a Jesuit, and, -although it contains many strong points in vindication of Tetzel's injured -character, it would not seem to have had this object so much in view as the -defence of the doctrine of indulgences against the attacks made on it by -reason of the year 1817 being the tercentenary year of the Reformation, and -celebrated as such throughout Protestant Germany. What Audin in his Life of -Luther says in favor of Tetzel proceeds more from feeling than historical -research, and is consequently of inferior importance. Under these -circumstances it is gratifying to meet with such a book in defence of -Tetzel as Dr. Valentine Gröne has produced, in which, while he exhibits the -vilified Dominican as an able, pious, and devoted champion of the holy see, -in a manner that establishes, his title in future to that character on a -solid basis, he also contributes to the history of Luther and the -Reformation a most interesting fund of knowledge and reflection. - -{839} - -The true date of Tetzel's birth appears to be unknown. It is conjectured to -have fallen a little later than the middle of the fifteenth century. He was -a native of Leipsic, where his father was a citizen and goldsmith. Dr. -Gröne has much to say about the etymology of his family name. But this we -may pass over as superfluous. Of Tetzel's boyhood and youth nothing is -recorded until the year 1482. It was the year of his matriculation as a -student of the Leipsic university. He is now said to have shown superior -abilities and great application. For the art of rhetoric he soon evinced a -strong predilection. Not content with attending the lectures of Conrad -Kimpina on the theory of declamation, he sought to gain a practical -knowledge of it by assiduously frequenting the sermons of the Dominicans. -This led to his forming an attachment to the order of which, in 1490, he -became a member. Two years before, he had received his bachelor's degree, -being the sixth on a list of fifty candidates. - -In the seclusion of the Dominican convent of St. Paul's, at Leipsic, Tetzel -renounced the study of humanities in order to devote himself all the more -zealously to the writings of the fathers and doctors of the church. - -This course he adopted as the surest means of qualifying himself to become -a preaching friar in the true spirit of St. Dominic. "The goldsmith's son," -says Jacob Vogel, "possessed every requisite to form a public speaker, a -clear understanding, a good memory, an eloquent tongue, an animated -delivery, a manly and sonorous voice, the charm of which was enhanced by a -tall and slender figure." - -His first essays as a preacher were confined to the church of his convent. -Their effect was such that his prior, Martin Adam, soon gave him permission -to preach beyond the convent walls, at the different places belonging to -its jurisdiction. In Tetzel's day it was still customary not to confer holy -orders until, according to ancient canonical rule, the candidate had -reached the age of thirty years. This age Tetzel attained before the close -of the century. He was then ordained priest by Philo von Trotha, Bishop of -Merseburg. About the same time Pope Alexander VI. proclaimed the great -jubilee. It was the eighth proclamation since the first by Boniface VIII. -Tetzel received from his superiors the appointment to preach the jubilee -indulgence. He preached it at Leipsic, Zwickau, Nüremberg, Magdeburg, -Görlitz, Halle, and other towns. So well did he perform his duty, that he -established his fame as one of the most powerful popular preachers that had -ever appeared in Germany. "By reason of his extraordinary eloquence," says -Godfried Hecht, "he acquired great authority over the people, and rose -higher and higher in renown." Dr. Gröne adverts to various contemporary -attestations of Tetzel's surprising success with the masses. It was -ascribed to his resounding voice, his richly metaphorical language, and -logical clearness. - -In 1504, Pope Julius II. proclaimed an indulgence in favor of the Teutonic -Knights in Prussia, whom the Russians and Tartars had reduced to great -straits. On this occasion Tetzel was again chosen to preach, along with -Christian Baumhauer, of Nüremberg. He preached the indulgence in Prussia, -Brandenburg, and Silesia. At the same time the Dominican priory of Glogau, -becoming vacant, was offered to him. He was little more than thirty years -old. "What stronger proof," says Dr. Gröne, "could be given him of the high -veneration in which he was held by his order?" But he did not accept the -dignity. In the early part of 1507 he returned to Leipsic. On his way he -preached for the Teutonic Knights at Dresden. So great was the desire to -hear him that the largest church in the city was found too small for the -congregation. -{840} -Duke George of Saxony caused him, in consequence, to preach from a window -of his palace. The same zealous duke, on Tetzel's arrival at Leipsic, -received him outside the gates at the head of the clergy, the civic -authorities, and dignitaries of the university, and conducted him in solemn -procession to St. Paul's convent. Here Tetzel again retired, a simple -friar, to the seclusion of his cell. In 1510, he was employed to preach an -indulgence of a peculiar sort, granted in aid of building a bridge, with a -chapel on it, over the Elbe at Torgau. The Saxon princes, being themselves -short of funds, and finding the people unwilling to contribute the money -for nothing, had obtained in 1491 from Innocent VIII. the indulgence in -question, by which all the faithful in Saxony who should give the twentieth -part of a gold florin toward the bridge and chapel at Torgau were permitted -to eat butter and drink milk in lent, on the rogation days, and the vigils -of feasts, for a term of twenty years. In 1510, Pope Julius II. renewed -this indulgence for another twenty years. Such indulgences were not -unfrequent in the middle ages. In 1310. Pope John XXII., as Dr. Gröne tells -us, granted an indulgence of forty days toward the erection of the bridge -at Dresden. When Julius II. died in 1513, the great aspiration of his -successor, Leo X., was to complete the magnificent temple of Christendom, -St. Peter's basilica, begun by Julius in 1506. But Leo found that the wars -waged by his high-minded predecessor in defence of St. Peter's patrimony, -and the independence of Italy, had exhausted the papal treasury. Julius -having raised the funds for laying the foundations of St. Peter's by means -of an indulgence, Leo resolved to do the like toward the expenses of -finishing the work. The bull which he accordingly issued, granting a -plenary indulgence to all Christendom, reached Germany in 1515. The -commission to preach it was given to the Franciscans. For Saxony and the -north of Germany this commission was divided between the guardian of the -Franciscans of Mentz and Albert of Brandenburg, the newly installed -archbishop of the city. But the guardian of the Franciscans declining to -act, the entire commission passed into the hands of the archbishop. It was -merely as a special favor that he had been included in the commission at -all. His grace, in fact, had been obliged to contract a heavy debt with the -Fuggers of Augsburg, the Rothschilds of the day, in order to pay the fees -on his pallium, which, for an archbishop of Mentz, amounted to no less a -sum than thirty thousand gold florins. As it was not customary for the -archbishops to pay this sum out of their privy purse, it had to be levied -on the faithful of the diocese. But this had been done twice within the -last ten years for the immediate predecessors of Albert of Brandenburg, -namely, Archbishops Berthold and James Uriel. To raise the sum a third time -under such circumstances seemed impossible without assistance. Wherefore, -in order to afford relief to his flock, Archbishop Albert had obtained -leave from Rome to appropriate a portion of the proceeds of the papal -indulgence in his province toward the payment of his debt. This fact -suffices, in Dr. Gröne's opinion, to clear the archbishop from the reproach -of avarice cast at him by Protestant writers, who have also not failed to -impute all sorts of unworthy motives to him for making choice of the -Dominican, John Tetzel, as his chief sub-commissioner, or quaestor, in -preaching the indulgence. But, says Dr. Gröne, is not the archbishop's -choice of Tetzel tantamount to a refutation of the calumnies heaped upon -him as one of the vilest, not only of friars, but of men? Archbishop Albert -proceeded with the greatest caution, and issued very clear and exact -instructions, both on the nature of the indulgence, and the manner in which -it should be preached. Had Tetzel really been the notoriously bad monk -Protestant writers say he was, how could the archbishop, with the knowledge -of such a fact, have ventured to choose him at all? -{841} -How could Tetzel be expected to preach with any effect, if, as is asserted, -he was a disgrace to his order, a man who did not scruple openly to -perpetrate the worst excesses? But Archbishop Albert of Mentz had, as we -have seen, very particular reasons of his own for promoting as much as -possible the success of Pope Leo's indulgence, and, accordingly, he made -choice of Tetzel as his chief quaestor, not because he thought a coarse, -sordid monk of infamous reputation the likeliest person he knew of to stir -up the religious fervor of the people, but because he judged this might -best be done by one who, while eminent alike for piety and for zeal in the -cause of the church and the holy see, enjoyed the renown of being one of -the most eloquent preachers then living in Germany. What motive could be -more natural, more just, more obvious than this? - -Tetzel entered on his duties as preacher of the papal indulgence for the -Archbishop of Mentz with his accustomed zeal and ability. What he had to -announce in virtue of the Instructio Summaria of the archbishop was -substantially this: That all persons who repented of, and confessed, -fasting, their sins, who received holy communion, said certain prayers in -seven different churches, or before as many altars, and contributed -according to their means a donation toward St. Peter's basilica, should -obtain full remission of the temporal punishment due to their sins, once -for their lives, and then as often as they should be in danger of death; -that this indulgence might be applied by way of intercession to the souls -in purgatory, while bedridden people were to be able to obtain it by -devoutly confessing and communicating in their chambers before a sacred -image or picture. - -In the entire document, says Dr. Gröne, there does not occur a thought -which the church at the present day would hesitate to subscribe. The -Instructio Summaria further declares, that those who cannot afford a -pecuniary donation are not, therefore, to be denied the grace of the -indulgence, which seeks not less the salvation of the faithful than the -advantage of the basilica. "Let such as have no money," it says, "replace -their donations by prayer and fasting, for the kingdom of heaven must not -stand more open to the rich than the poor." What a refutation have we here -of the slanderous clamor against Pope Leo's indulgence as an alleged -traffic in sin! With respect to the conduct of Tetzel himself and his -subordinates, they are admonished to lead an exemplary life, to avoid -taverns, and to abstain from unnecessary expense. That cases of levity -nevertheless took place, Dr. Gröne admits, but he strenuously denies that -Tetzel gave cause for animadversion. Finally, the Instructio Summaria -directed that all indulgences of a particular or local kind should be -declared, in virtue of the pope's bull, as suspended for eight years in -favor of the one now granted by his holiness; a declaration which did not -fail to excite a bitter spirit of opposition and jealousy, especially among -the religious orders and confraternities, of which Tetzel had to bear the -brunt. - -In the church of All Saints, at Wittenberg, there was a costly shrine of -relics resented by the reigning elector Frederic, afterward surnamed the -Wise. At his request Pope Leo X., so recently as 1516, had attached to this -shrine an indulgence for the yearly festival of All Saints. The offerings -which this indulgence would produce Frederic designed to apply for the -benefit of the university which he had founded. Hence, he regarded the -papal indulgence for St. Peter's at Rome as a grievance, and, but for an -imperial mandate requiring all the German princes to throw no impediment in -its way, he would have forbidden its being preached in his territories. - -{842} - -Frederic, moreover, had a grudge against Rome on the following grounds: The -holy see had, in compliance with his request, consented to confer on his -natural son the coadjutorship to a benefice _in commendam_. But the -commendator himself dying when the diploma conferring the coadjutorship had -just been completed, a new diploma conferring the vacant commendatory had -to be prepared instead, entailing on Frederic, who was of a very -parsimonious disposition, the vexatious necessity of having to pay the fees -twice over. This he ruminated upon in his sullen way, and set it down in -his mind as a conclusive proof of that grasping, overreaching spirit which -the enemies of the church in that age accused her of in such exaggerated -terms. Frederic the Wise was also involved in a dispute with the archbishop -of Mentz respecting certain territorial rights at Erfurth. - -The Augustinian hermits of Wittenberg sympathized with their munificent -patron the elector. He permitted them to make use of the funds accruing -from the local indulgence of All Saints toward the expenses of a new -convent and church which they had in course of erection. But the temporary -suspension of the latter indulgence in favor of the one preached by John -Tetzel for Pope Leo X. and Archbishop Albert inconvenienced and annoyed -them all the more, as their buildings were on the point of completion. -Neither was their ill-will toward Tetzel the less that, in his character as -a Dominican, he was their ardent opponent in the scholastic and theological -disputes of the day; and, besides being a preacher of such talent and -influence, was a dignitary of the court of Inquisition at Cologne, where, -of course, the Dominicans presided. - -In spite of all obstacles, Tetzel preached the indulgence with signal -success at Leipsic, Magdeburg, Halberstadt, Berlin, and other places. At -length, about the end of October. 1517, he arrived at Yüterbock, near -Wittenberg, just at the time for gaining the special indulgence of All -Saints. In vain the Augustinians secretly did what they could to prevent -the people from flocking to hear him. The very students of the new -Wittenberg university, expressly founded as it was as a rival to that of -Leipsic, deserted the lecture-halls in such numbers that the professors -were filled with alarm and indignation. In particular, Dr. Martin Luther -was exasperated to find himself so completely eclipsed by the proximity of -Tetzel, against whom he fruitlessly inveighed in the temporary church of -the Augustinian hermits. Even his own penitents, regardless of his -admonitions and refusals of absolution, forsook his confessional to obtain -the indulgence proclaimed at Yüterbock. All at once they seemed to forget -the maxims he had taken so much pains to instil into their minds respecting -divine grace and good works! Long had he waited for an opportunity to -broach his new doctrine openly, and he and his disciples resolved that now -or never was the time to do so. - -Accordingly, on the 31st of October Luther posted up his famous ninety-five -theses at the door of All Saints' church in Wittenberg, and challenged all -the world to dispute with him on the doctrine they maintained. Ostensibly -they were levelled against the alleged abuses of the papal indulgence. But -attacks on the doctrine itself, as well as on the authority of the pope, -were insidiously intermingled with them. - - "Not the affair of the indulgence, not Tetzel, not the corruption and - ignorance of the clergy, not the decay of discipline," says Dr. Gröne, - "but the circumstance that Luther, previous to the posting up of his - theses, was a heretic, and found support in the Elector Frederic--this it - was that gave rise to the great schism in the church." - -Dr. Gröne substantiates his assertion by authenticated facts, and a -critical examination of Luther's ninety-five theses, which, says he, - - "Were the point of transition from secret to open from timid to - obstinate, heresy. They were the seed which, sown in the soil, contains, - not only virtually, but really, all that, as germ and plant, it has a - right to contain. They were the result, the production of Luther's mental - life, corroded, as it was, by error and learned self-conceit; they were - as intimately united with it as the stem is with the root, therefore they - could only be abandoned in case the author himself transformed his entire - interior life. Hence, too, is to be derived the obstinacy with which - Luther clung to them, with which he would still have clung to them, even - if they had not earned him general applause; hence the circumstance that, - in defending them, he involved himself deeper and deeper in heresy." - -{843} - -By means of the press Luther's theses were soon spread all over Germany. -Tetzel, seeing the riotous applause they met with from the enemies of the -church generally, and from his own enemies in particular, suspended his -preaching; and, with the concurrence of the archbishop of Mentz, repaired -for advice to his former preceptor, Dr. Conrad Wimpina, at that time rector -of the university of Frankfort-on-the-Oder. Wimpina advised him to answer -Luther's challenge with a series of antitheses. Tetzel did so, and -published against Luther's ninety-five theses a hundred and six antitheses. -They obtained for him the degree of doctor of divinity. In the clearest -manner they set forth the true Catholic doctrine of the absolute necessity -of repentance, confession, and satisfaction for the pardon of sin, -affirming that, though an indulgence exempts the sinner from the -vindicatory penalties of the church, it leaves him just as much bound as -ever to submit to her medicinal and preservative ones; that it does not -derogate from the merits of Christ, since its whole efficacy is due to the -atoning passion of Christ; as also that the pope has power only by means of -suffrage to apply the benefits of an indulgence to the souls in purgatory. -Moreover, to say the pope cannot absolve the least venial sin is erroneous; -and equally so to deny that all vicars of Christ have the same power as -Peter had: rather to assert that Peter, in the matter of indulgences, had -more power than they, is both heretical and blasphemous. One of the many -slanders on Tetzel is, that he was not the author of the antitheses that he -published, but that Dr. Wimpina wrote them for him. Luther himself flung -this taunt in his face, and so gave it the prestige among his party of an -undoubted fact. Dr. Gröne enters fully into the case, and terminates his -inquiry with "venturing to believe that, by his vindication, he has -annihilated every substantial ground for doubting that Tetzel was the real -author of the antitheses in question." They did not, of course, silence -Luther, who replied to them with a popular compendium in German of his -ninety-five theses in twenty articles. Tetzel rejoined with twenty others, -also in German. In the nineteenth he declares of Luther's doctrine, in the -tone of a prophet, that, in consequence of it, "many people will contemn -the authority and power of his holiness the pope and the Roman see, will -intermit the works of sacramental satisfaction, will no longer believe -their pastors and teachers, but will explain, every one for himself, the -sacred Scriptures according to private fancy and whim, and believe just -what every one chooses, to the great detriment of souls throughout -Christendom." - -At a time when all the most learned men in Germany regarded the matter as -nothing but a scholastic dispute, when many even in Rome deemed it a mere -monkish quarrel, Tetzel, by thus pointing out in such clear and concise -terms what Luther's principles really involved, what fatal results they -would produce, evinced, in Dr. Gröne's opinion, a more than ordinary -penetration of mind. - -Luther's fundamental thought in attacking indulgences was this: That -indulgences are not of faith, because not taught in the Bible, not taught -by Christ and his apostles; they emanate, he said, only from the pope. Now, -if this thought was an erroneous one, if the pope in questions of faith and -morals is infallible, if he alone possesses the right to decide the true -sense and meaning of Scripture, every Catholic is bound on all such -questions to submit to him; and Luther, if he persisted in maintaining his -doctrine, passed sentence on himself as an apostate and a heretic, cut -himself off from all__ escape, and had no other choice left than that -of either being punished as a heretic, or making a recantation. -{844} -Hence, in order to drive him from the field, it was requisite to prove -that, besides the truths explicitly declared in holy writ, there are other -truths in the church which we are equally bound to believe; and that they -comprise all those doctrines relating to faith which are defined as such by -the holy see. By setting up those propositions the dispute would be raised -to one of principle, and Luther would be compelled to speak out on the -pope's authority in matters of faith and practice. - -These considerations spurred Tetzel on to issue against Luther's fifty -theses on the power of the pope; for, indeed, it had not eluded his -observation that much the greater part of the applause received by Luther -was owing far more to his insidious attacks on the authority of the holy -see than to his reprobation of the indulgence. Tetzel's fifty theses, -published about the end of April, 1518, maintained, therefore, that the -highest power having been received by the pope exclusively from God, cannot -be extended or limited, either by any man or by the whole world, but only -by God alone. That in his power of jurisdiction the pope stands above all -other bishops separate or united. That, although, as a private man, the -pope may hold, on a point of faith, a wrong opinion, yet, when he -pronounces judgment on it _ex cathedrâ_, he is infallible. That -indulgences cannot be granted by the rest of the prelates, whether -collectively or singly, but only by the "Bridegroom of the whole church," -namely, the pope. That what is true and of faith about indulgences, only -the pope can decide. That the church has many Catholic truths, which are -neither expressly declared in the canon of Scripture, nor explicitly stated -by the holy fathers. That all doctrines relating to faith, and defined as -such by the apostolic see, are to be reckoned among Catholic truths, -whether or not they are contained in the Bible. As a warning for the -elector of Saxony, Tetzel declares that all those who patronize heretics, -and use their power to prevent them from being put upon their trial before -the lawful judge, incur excommunication. - -These fifty theses of Tetzel's were strictly in the spirit of the -scholastic theology in vogue, a spirit which the experience of such -councils as those of Basle, Constance, and Florence had contributed not a -little to evoke. - -Luther at once perceived what a stumbling-block Tetzel had thrown in his -way. He did not attempt to dispute the fifty theses. Had he done so he must -have plainly acknowledged himself a heretic. As matters stood this would -have been premature, would have spoiled all, would have ruined him and his -cause. Tetzel had not designated Luther personally as a heretic. But Luther -chose to assume that he had done so, and forthwith let loose a storm -against him of such brutal and malignant invective as Luther alone was -capable of. Adopting the tone of an injured man, a man shamefully -misunderstood, he filled Germany with hypocritical asseverations of his -orthodoxy and his devotion to the see of Peter. All his party, all Tetzel's -opponents, followed in his wake. The heathen-minded humanists, in -particular, singled out Tetzel as the butt of their ribald satire, holding -him up to scorn and execration as the very impersonation of every -imaginable monastic abuse and scandal. The persecuted man found little or -no shelter from the tempest. The friends of religion and the church were -intimidated, confounded, paralyzed; apathy, indecision, cowardice, -delusion, prevailed among the guardians of the faith, prevailed among the -German bishops. Rome herself was slow and lenient in her measures. Although -she cited Luther to come and answer for himself to her, she consented, in -the persons of Cajetan and Miltiz, to go to him. Cajetan, all patience and -condescension, allowed himself to be trifled with and duped. Miltiz -truckled to Luther, reviled Tetzel, betrayed his trust. -{845} -In vain did Hermann Rab, provincial of the Saxon Dominicans, address a -touching letter in Tetzel's defence to Miltiz. It is dated at Leipsic, -January 3d, 1519, and is quoted in full by Dr. Gröne: - - "Truly I should not know where to find a man (observes Hermann Rab in - this letter) who has done and suffered, who still suffers so much for the - honor of the apostolic see, as our venerable father, Magister John - Tetzel. If his holiness only knew it, I doubt not but that he would - distinguish him in a worthy manner. With what lies and slanders beyond - number he is overwhelmed, all the street-corners, where they resound in - your ears, attest. I only wish your excellence had heard the sermon he - preached on the feast of our Lord's circumcision, for then you would not - have failed to convince yourself what his sentiments are, and always have - been, toward the holy see." - -Miltiz commanded Tetzel to retire to his cell at Leipsic. He obeyed. His -career was now terminated. He never ascended the pulpit again. The fatigues -and excitement he had undergone; the persecution he had suffered; his -deserted and forlorn condition; above all, the course of events, so ominous -for the church and the papacy, to which he clung with all his soul; these -things preyed upon his mind and body to such a degree that his health gave -way, and he died in a state of profound melancholy in the month of August -of the above-mentioned year. He is supposed to have been about sixty years -old: - - "Tetzel could not have set up a better monument to his own character - (writes Dr. Gröne) than he did in the grief and affliction which hastened - his end. The ruin of the church, the wild infidelity, and unspeakable - disorders which the triumph of Luther must needs entail on Germany--this - was the worm that gnawed his vital thread. It broke his heart to be - forced to see how the sincere champions of the old church truths were - left alone, were slandered, despised, and misunderstood by their own - party, while the mockers and revilers of the immutable doctrine won - applause on all sides." - -In a chapter devoted to a refutation of the infamous calumnies and profane -anecdotes recorded of Tetzel, it is shown by Dr. Gröne that they were -mostly borrowed from the Decameron of Boccaccio and a congenial German -production, styled Der Pfaffe Amis. For example: Tetzel, being anxious to -impart extraordinary interest to the indulgence he had to preach, once told -the people he would show them a feather which the devil, in combating with -the archangel Michael, had plucked from the archangel's wing. But a couple -of godless wags, entering his chamber during his absence, stole the feather -out of the box in which it was kept, and put some coals from the fireplace -in its stead. Tetzel, ignorant of the theft, mounts the pulpit, box in -hand, and declaims with great fervor on the wonderful qualities of his -heavenly feather. Then opening the box, finds it full of coals. Nothing -abashed, he cries out, "What wonder if, among so many relic-boxes as I -possess, I have taken the wrong one?" And forthwith he extols the -miraculous power of the very coals on which St. Lawrence was broiled. - -Another merry tale of the sort is the following: "Tetzel," they, say, "once -desired to lodge with the sacristan at Zwickau. But the sacristan excused -himself as being too poor to entertain so renowned a guest. 'We'll see that -you have money enough,' said Tetzel, 'only look what saint it is in the -calendar to-morrow.' The sacristan found the name of Juvenalis. 'A very -unlucky name, he regretted to say, because it was so little known.' 'But -we'll make it known,' replied Tetzel. 'Ring the bells to-morrow as if for a -festival, and let high mass be sung.' The sacristan obeyed, and the people -throng the church. After the gospel Tetzel ascends the pulpit, and speaks: -'Good people, to-day I have something to tell you which, if I were to -withhold it, would be the very ruin of your salvation. Hitherto, you know, -we have always invoked such and such saints, but now they have grown old, -and are tired of hearing and helping us. To-day you commemorate Juvenalis, -and although until now he has been unknown, let us none the less honor him -with all our hearts. -{846} -For as he is a new saint, he will be all the more indefatigable in praying -for us. Juvenalis, my friends, was a holy martyr, whose blood was -innocently shed. Now, if you would also participate in his innocence before -God, let each of you put an offering on the altar during mass. And do you, -ye great and rich ones, precede the rest with your good example.'" - -Again, in 1512, Tetzel, after having preached at Zwickau, had got all his -money packed up, and was about to depart. But the parish priest, with his -chaplain and clerk, came running to him, bitterly complaining that, while -he had provided so splendidly for himself, they had not got as much by the -indulgence as would pay for one jolly day. "Truly I am very sorry," answers -Tetzel, "but why did you not tell me sooner? However, ring the bells again -to-morrow; there may still, perhaps, be something left for you." No sooner -said than done. The people all came flocking to church, and Tetzel, -ascending the pulpit, begins: "Dearly beloved, true I had intended to -depart this very day, but last night I heard in your church-yard a poor -soul moaning and weeping miserably, and imploring some one to come to her -relief, and deliver her out of purgatory. This caused me to remain here to -day, to have mass said and offerings made for this poor soul. Now, whoever -among us should neglect to make an offering would thereby prove that he has -no compassion on the poor soul, or else that he must either be a fornicator -or an adulterer, whose conscience tells him he is not worthy to take part -in this good work. And that you may know what an urgent case it is, I -myself will be the first to present my offering." - -Of course all the people hasten to follow so edifying an example, they even -borrow money from one another, for no one wishes to be thought a fornicator -or an adulterer. - -In citing such absurd stories as the above, along with many others of a -still more profane description, Dr. Gröne shows that, in several instances, -they were the same as were employed to slander the character of Bernardin -Samson, the Franciscan preacher of Pope Leo's indulgence in Switzerland. He -also cites two contemporary documents, one of them signed by the -authorities of the town of Halle, the other by John Pels, prior of the -Dominican convent of Nevenwerk, denying in emphatic terms that Tetzel, in -his sermons, ever blasphemed the Blessed Virgin in the shocking way he was -accused of doing. In fine, had he really been the monster of depravity, the -shameless drunkard, swindler, liar, blasphemer, and adulterer his enemies -make of him, it is but too obvious that, instead of opposing, he would have -joined Luther, whose earliest and most ardent disciples were principally -degenerate monks, in love with the Lutheran doctrine of the futility of -good works--monks, in a word, corresponding in every respect to the -Protestant descriptions, but opposite in character as day and night to the -true nature of John Tetzel. - ------- - -{847} - - From Once a Week. - - The Bride of Eberstein. - - A Legend of Baden. - - -Four hours distant from the city of Baden, near the market village of -Malsch, on a bold, projecting wood-crowned eminence in the Black Forest, -stood the Castle of Waldenfels. It is now a heap of ruins, and scarcely can -the traveller discover the spot which was formerly the residence of an -opulent and powerful family. - -In the thirteenth century, Sir Beringer, last of his race, inhabited the -castle of Waldenfels. His lately departed consort had bequeathed him an -only daughter, Rosowina by name. In bygone years Sir Beringer had ofttimes -felt distressed that he would leave no male heir to propagate the name and -celebrity of his ancient stock; and, in this feeling, he had adopted -Heinrich von Gertingen, an orphan boy, the son of an early friend and -companion in arms, and the representative of an ancient but impoverished -house, to whom he purposed to bequeath his inheritance and his name. Not -long, however, after this event, his daughter was born. And as Rosowina, -after her mothers early death, advanced in the blossom of youth, she became -the pride and happiness of her father's age, and never caused him sorrow, -save in the reflection that some day she would leave the paternal for the -conjugal hearth. All now that troubled him was his adopted son. The growing -boy, while manifesting a becoming taste for knightly accomplishments, and -obtaining success in their display, nourished in his breast the germ of -fiery passions, which, while they caused distress and anxiety to the Lord -of Waldenfels, impressed his daughter with terror and revolted feeling. At -length, when Rosowina had attained her sixteenth year, she became to -Heinrich the object of a wild and desperate devotion. He repressed the -sentiment awhile, but at length yielded himself its slave. He persecuted -Rosowina with his ill-timed and terrible addresses; and one day, having -found her alone in the castle garden, he cast himself at her feet, and -swore by all that was holy and dear that his life was in her hand, and that -without her he must become the victim of an agonizing despair. Rosowina's -terror and confusion were boundless; she had never experienced the smallest -feeling of affection for the youth, but rather regarded him with aversion -and alarm. She knew not at the moment how to act or what to say. At that -instant her father appeared. The confusion of both sufficiently discovered -what had occurred: in a burning rage Sir Beringer commanded the unhappy -youth instantly to quit the castle for ever. With one wild glance at -Rosowina, Heinrich obeyed; and muttering, "The misery thou hast brought -upon my life come upon thine own!" rushed despairingly away. Next morning -his body was found in the Murg, his countenance hideously distorted, and -too well expressing the despair with which he had left the world. Efforts -were made, so far as possible, to conceal the horrid truth from Rosowina, -but in vain; time, however, softened the features of the ghastly memory. -She had now completed her seventeenth year, and was already celebrated as -the beauty of the surrounding country. And not only was her beauty the -subject of universal praise; her maidenly modesty, her goodness of heart, -her prudent, thoughtful, intelligent cast of mind, were the theme of -commendation with all who had enjoyed the privilege of her society. - -{848} - -A few hours' distance from the Castle of Waldenfels, in the pleasant valley -through which rush the clear waters of the Alb, stood the monastery of -Herrenalb. The Holy Virgin was patroness of the foundation, and the day on -which the church celebrates the festival of her nativity was annually -observed as the grand holiday of the convent, when the monks, to do honor -to this occasion, exhibited all the splendor and magnificence which -Christian bounty had placed at their disposal, and spared no expense to -entertain their guests in the most hospitable and sumptuous manner. And now -Sir Beringer of Waldenfels had promised his Rosowina to ride over to -Herrenalb with her the next St. Mary's day. He was ever a man of his word; -how should he now be otherwise, when that word assured a pleasure to the -darling of his heart? - -Bright and genial rose the autumnal morning when Sir Beringer and Rosowina, -with a small retinue, rode over the hills to Herrenalb. The knight and his -daughter were courteously and hospitably received by the abbot and his -monks. The presence of the noble heiress of Waldenfels excited much -interest and observation in the minster church; but the maiden herself -appeared unconscious of the fact. Seldom, however, as she found herself -disturbed by worldly thoughts in her devotions in the castle chapel at -Waldenfels, the splendor of the monastic church and services, and the -innumerable hosts of worshippers, were to her so new, that she felt -tempted, from time to time, to give a momentary glance around her. On one -occasion her gaze encountered a pair of eyes which seemed to rest on the -attraction of her countenance with an earnest yet respectful expression, -and, inexperienced as she was, she was at no loss to comprehend its -meaning. The gazer was a stately youth, who was leaning against a pillar. -His strong-built and well-proportioned frame, his noble and expressive -countenance, and even his rich and tasteful apparel, were well adapted to -fix the attention of a youthful maiden of seventeen, while his whole -demeanor convinced her how deeply he was smitten with the power of her -charms. - -The service over, the worshippers dispersed, and the sumptuous abbey opened -its hospitable gates to all who could advance any claim to entertainment. A -sister of Rosowina's mother was a nun in the cloister of Frauenalb, and -Rosowina was permitted occasionally to visit her, and had here enjoyed the -opportunity of making the acquaintance of several noble young ladies of the -neighborhood. She met some of them on this occasion, whom she accompanied -into the spacious garden of the convent. Among these was the young Countess -Agnes of Eberstein, with whom as she was sauntering through an avenue of -umbrageous beeches, suddenly there stood before her the abbot of the -convent and the young man who had attracted her attention in the church, -who, side by side, had emerged from a side-way path into the main walk. -Rosowina trembled in joyful alarm as she recognized her admirer: her first -thought was to return or retreat, but, without a manifest discourtesy, this -was now impossible. Neither was the Countess Agnes at all willing to -escape, but rather forced forward the reluctant Rosowina, welcoming at the -same time the youthful stranger as her beloved brother, the Count Otto of -Eberstein. After mutual salutations, Agnes introduced Rosowina to her -brother, who was delighted to recognize in the object of his admiration the -friend of his sister. He made advances toward a conversation, but the -abbot, whose heart was less sensible to beauty, would not, even for a few -short minutes, postpone the subject of their discussion. At the banquet, -however, which followed, it was easy for the Count of Eberstein, from his -high connection with the monastery, to choose his place, and he placed -himself opposite Sir Beringer and his daughter. -{849} -The knights had met occasionally before, and a nearer acquaintance was soon -made. To an engaging person Sir Otto united the attractions of polished -manners, of knowledge extensive for that period, acquired by residence in -most of the courts of Europe, and of a lively conversational talent, which -rendered him everywhere a welcome addition to society. With so many claims -on her regard, it was little wonderful that Rosowina should accept with -pleasure the homage of the count, and encourage in his breast the most -delightful of hopes. - -About that time the Counts of Eberstein had built a new castle above the -beautiful valley of the Murg, not far from the family residence of their -ancestors. The splendor of Neueberstein was the subject of universal -conversation, and all who had the opportunity of seeing the new palace were -eager to embrace the privilege. An invitation from Count Otto to the Knight -of Waldenfels and his daughter was only natural, and was no less naturally -accepted with especial welcome. - -Warm and mild shone the bright autumn sun on the lovely valley of the Murg, -as Sir Beringer and his daughter rode on beside the crystal stream; nor -could Rosowina suppress the thought how she might ere long ascend the steep -winding pathway to the castle no longer its visitor, but its mistress. Sir -Otto met his guests at the castle-gate, and, with eyes beaming with joy, -more especially as he saw the joy was mutual, lifted Rosowina from her -palfrey. After brief rest and refreshment, the inspection of the castle -began. Halls and chambers were duly examined, and at last the party -ascended the rampart of the loftiest tower, whence an enchanting prospect -met the eye. Far below them the Murg rolled its restless waters, now -flowing peaceful between banks of lively green, now toilsomely forcing its -passage between wild masses of rock. On either side the dusky hills towered -above the scene; and here and there now glimmered out of the shadow of the -forest a solitary mountain village, now a mass of mighty cliffs; and as the -eye descended the rapid mountain stream, it rested on the blooming plain of -the Rhine, where, in the violet tints of distance, arose the awful barrier -of the Vosges. Lost in the magnificent spectacle stood Rosowina, unable to -satiate her eye on the glorious picture, and unaware that Otto was close -beside her, contemplating with secret pleasure the beautiful spectatress. -At length the involuntary exclamation escaped her, "A paradise indeed!" - -Then found she herself softly clasped in a gentle arm, and her hand -affectionately pressed, while a well-known voice uttered softly, "And would -not Rosowina make this place 'a paradise indeed,' were she to share it with -me!" - -Unable now to suppress her feelings, Rosowina replied by a glance more -expressive than any words. She returned that evening with her father to -Waldenfels the happy affianced bride of Count Otto of Eberstein. - -On a bright spring morning, symbolizing well the feelings of the lovers, -the marriage solemnity was held at the Castle of Neueberstein, with all the -pomp and state of the period, which few understood better than Otto to -display. From towers and battlements innumerable banners, with the -Eberstein colors and blazonry, floated gallantly in the morning breeze, and -the portal, adorned with wreaths and arras, cast wide its hospitable gates. -Toward noon appeared, in the midst of a glittering pageant, the bride, -magnificently arrayed, but brighter in her incomparable beauty; and all -praised the choice of Otto, and agreed that he could have selected no -worthier object to grace his halls. Rosowina, however, felt unaccountably -distressed. It was not the confusion of maiden modesty it was not the -embarrassment of the bride that troubled the serenity of her heart. She -knew not herself what it was; but it weighed upon her mind like the -foreboding of a threatening misfortune. -{850} -An image, moreover, arose to her thought which long had seemed to have -vanished from her memory, even that of the unhappy Heinrich von Gertingen. -She endeavored to repress her anxiety, and succeeded so well that the happy -bride-groom saw not the cloud of sorrow that shaded the fair brow of his -bride. But when the priest had spoken the words of blessing, the last spark -of gloomy foreboding was extinct, and with untroubled tenderness she -returned her bridegroom's nuptial kiss, reproaching him smilingly, and yet -seriously, for exclaiming, as he did, with solemn appeals, that all the -joys of paradise and all the bliss of heaven were poor and insipid -pleasures in comparison of the happiness which he enjoyed in calling her -his own. - -The nuptial banquet followed. It was served with profuse splendor; but when -the joy was at its height, and the castle resounded with jubilant voices, -and the dance was about to begin, a page announced a stranger knight, who -wished to speak to the bridegroom; and forthwith a figure walked into the -hall. The stranger's armor and mantle were black, and he wore his visor -down. He proceeded with stately advance to the place where the newly wedded -pair were seated at the table, made a low reverence, and spoke with a -hollow and solemn tone: - -"I come, honored Count of Eberstein, on the part of my master, the powerful -monarch of Rachenland, [Footnote 304] to whose court the celebrity of this -occasion and of your bride has come, to assure you of the interest which he -takes in your person, and his gratification in the event of this day." - - [Footnote 304: _Anglicè_, "The Land of Vengeance."] - -His speech was interrupted by a page, who, kneeling, presented him with a -goblet of wine. But the stranger waved aside the honor, and requested, as -the highest favor that could be shown him, that he might lead the first -dance with the bride. None of the company had heard of Rachenland; but the -knowledge of distant countries was not then extensive, and the -representative of a mighty prince could not be refused the usual courtesy. -Rosowina, however, at the first appearance of the stranger knight, had -experienced an unaccountable shuddering, which amounted almost to terror, -as, leading her forth to the dance, he chilled her whole frame with the -freezing touch which, even through his gauntlet, seemed to pierce her very -heart. She was forced to summon all her strength to support herself during -the dance, and was painfully impatient for its conclusion. At length the -desired moment arrived, and her partner conducted her back to her seat, -bowing courteously, and thanking her. But at that instant she felt even -more acutely the icy coldness of his hand, while his glowing, penetrating -eye, through his visor, seemed to burn for a moment into her very soul. As -he turned to leave, a convulsive pang rent her heart, and, with a shriek, -she sank lifeless on the floor. Instant and universal was the alarm; all -rushed to the scene of the calamity; and in the confusion of the moment the -stranger knight vanished. - -Inexpressible was the grief of all. In the bloom of beauty and rich fulness -of youth lay the bride, cold and inanimate, a stark and senseless corpse. -Every conceivable appliance was tried to recall departed life; but departed -it had for ever, and all attempts were vain; and when it was ascertained -beyond a doubt that not the smallest hope remained, the guests in silence -left the house of mourning, and the inhabitants of the castle were left -alone with their sorrow. - -Three days had now passed away. The corpse of Rosowina rested in the vault -of the castle chapel, and the mourners, after paying the last honors to the -dead, had again departed. Otto, left alone at Eberstein, refused all human -consolation. The first stupefaction of sorrow had now given place to a -clamorous and boundless despair. -{851} -He cursed the day of his nativity, and in his wild desperation cried aloud -that he would readily sacrifice the salvation of his soul, and renounce his -claim on eternal happiness, were it only granted him to spend the rest of -life at Rosowina's side. - -Before the door of the vault in which the young countess slept the wakeless -sleep, Gisbrecht kept watch and ward. Gisbrecht was an old man-at-arms of -the house of Eberstein, which he had served faithfully for more than forty -years. He was a warrior from his youth, and had stood loyally at the side -of his master, and of his master's father and grandfather, in many a bloody -conflict; fear, except the fear of God, which he diligently cultivated, was -a stranger to his soul. With slow and measured tread he paced up and down -at his station, meditating the sudden death of the young and beautiful -countess, and thence passing in thought to the instability and nothingness -of all human things. Often had his glance fallen on the entrance to the -vault; but now--what was that? Scarcely did he trust his eyes; yet it was -so. The gate opened, and a white-robed figure came forth from the depths of -the sepulchre. For a while, Gisbrecht stood motionless, with bated breath, -but fearless, while the apparition approached him. But when he gazed nearer -on the pale, ashy countenance, and recognized beyond a doubt the features -of Rosowina, the horrors of the spirit-world came upon him; and, impelled -by an unutterable terror, he rushed up the steps, and along the corridor -which led to his lord's chamber, unheeding the call of the white figure, -which followed close upon his track. - -Count Otto, in his despair, was turning himself from side to side upon his -bed, when he heard a heavy knock upon the door; and, as he rose and opened -it, there stood old Gisbrecht, pale, trembling, with distorted features, -and scarcely able to stammer out from his trembling lips: - -"O my lord count! the Lady of Waldenfels--" - -"Art mad, Gisbrecht!" cried the count, astonished at the manner and words -of the old man. - -"Pardon me, lord count," continued Gisbrecht, stammering; "I meant to say -the young departed countess--"' - -"O Rosowina!" exclaimed the count, with an involuntary sigh. - -"Here she is--thy Rosowina!" cried a pallid female form, which, with these -words, precipitated herself into the count's embrace. - -The count knew not what to think. He was overpowered with astonishment. Was -it a dream? was it an apparition? or was it Rosowina indeed? Yes, it was -indeed she. It was her silver voice. Her heart beat, her lips breathed, the -mild and angelic features were there. It was Rosowina indeed, whom, wrapt -in the cerements of the grave, he held in his embrace. - -On the morrow, the wondrous tale was everywhere told in the castle and the -neighborhood. The Countess Rosowina had not died; she had only been in a -trance. The sacristan, fortunately, had not fastened the door of the vault, -and the countess, on awakening, had been enabled by the light of the -sepulchral lamp to extricate herself from the coffin, and to follow the -affrightened sentinel to his master's chamber. - -And now at Castle Eberstein once more all was liveliness and joy. But -boundless as had been the despair of the count at his loss, he did not feel -happy in his new good fortune. It seemed as though a secret unknown -something intervened between him and his youthful bride. He found no more -in her eye that deep expression of soul that so oft had awakened his heart -to transports of joy; the gaze was dead and cold. The warm kiss imprinted -on her chilly lips met never a return. Even her character was opposite to -all he had expected. As a bride, loving and gentle, trustful and devoted, -open and sincere, now was she sullen, testy, and silent. Every hour seemed -these peculiarities to unfold themselves more; every day they become mere -unendurable. -{852} -Often was his kiss rejected, sometimes with bitter mockery; if he left her -awhile through annoyance, she reproached him, and filled the castle with -complaints of his neglect and aversion; when business called him abroad, -she tortured him with the most frightful jealousy. Even in her manners and -inclinations the Countess of Eberstein was an actual contrast to the -heiress of Waldenfels; all in her was low, ignoble, and mean; one habit was -chiefly remarkable in her, always to cross her husband, to distress and -annoy him, to embitter all his joys, to darken all his pleasures. And soon -it became the common saying of the neighborhood: "The Count of Eberstein -thought he had been courting an angel, but he had brought home a dragon -from an opposite world." - -With inexhaustible patience, with imperturbable equanimity, Count Otto -endured these annoyances. No complaint, no reproach, ever passed his lips. -He had loved Rosowina too faithfully, too entirely, to let the conduct of -her whom he now called his wife so soon extinguish the passion of his -heart. But these disappointed hopes, this perpetual struggle between love -and despised self-esteem, and this concealment of the sharpest pangs of his -soul, gnawed at the very germ of life, and destroyed it at its core. A slow -fever seized him, and he was now visibly decaying, and approaching the -grave. One morning he was found unexpectedly in the death-struggle. He -asked for the chaplain of the castle, in order to make his dying -confession; but the holy man only arrived in time to witness his last most -agonizing groans. At the same moment a frightful crash shook the -foundations of the castle, the doors of the burial-vault sprang open, and -some of the domestics saw the spectral form of Rosowina sweep into it, and -vanish in the darkness. - -The deserted castle of Neueberstein sank in ruins, uninhabited for many -centuries; the popular belief being that Otto and Rosowina continued to -appear in its haunted apartments, and to set forth thereby the solemn -lesson, that _he makes the most foolish and wicked of bargains, who gains -even the whole world, if he lose his own soul._ - ------- - - From The Lamp. - - The Miner. - - From The German of Novalis. - - -In a room of a clean inn sat a group of men, partly travellers, partly -persons that had entered to drink a glass of beer, who conversed with each -other on various subjects. The attention of the company was particularly -directed to an old man in strange attire who was seated at a table, and -answered in a friendly manner all the questions which were put to him. - -"He came from foreign parts," he said; and was a native of Bohemia. From -early youth he had had a vehement longing to know what was hidden within -the mountains whence the water gushed up into the springs, and where we -found the gold, silver, and precious stones, which have attractions so -irresistible for man. In the church of the neighboring monastery he had -often gazed upon the solid brilliancy of the images and reliquaries, and -wished that they could speak and tell him of their mysterious origin. -{853} -He had heard sometimes that they came from far distant lands; but he had -asked himself why these treasures and gems should not be found in his own -district. Not without a purpose were the mountainous regions so vast, and -preserved so securely; so it seemed to him, as sometimes on the hills he -found bright and glittering stones. He had often clambered into clefts and -caverns, and beheld with unspeakable pleasure those primeval halls and -vaults. At length he once met a traveller who advised him to become a -miner, by which means he might gratify his curiosity. He had told him that -there were miners in Bohemia; and that, if he followed the downward course -of the river, he would after ten or twelve days' journey arrive at Eula; -there he had only to speak, and he might at once become a miner. He had not -sought for further information; but the next day had set out on his -journey. - -"After a fatiguing walk of several days," he continued, "I arrived at Eula. -I cannot express the joy I felt when from the summit of a hill I saw large -piles of stones, overgrown with shrubs, and upon which stood little wooden -huts; and when in the valley below I saw clouds of smoke rolling over the -wood, a distant noise increased the eagerness of my expectation. With -wonderful curiosity, and full of silent devotion, I stood upon one of the -stone mounds before the black abyss, which, from the interior of the hut, -led down straight into the mountain. Then I hastened down the valley, where -I met some darkly-clad men with lamps, who, as I rightly supposed, were -miners. With bashful anxiety I mentioned my design to them; they listened -to me with kindness, and bade me go to the melting house and inquire for -the surveyor, who would at once inform me whether or not my offer would be -accepted. They thought that my wish would be fulfilled, and told me the -usual words of salutation, '_Glück auf!_' with which I should accost -the surveyor. Full of joyful expectation, I left them, and could never -cease repeating to myself the novel salutation, so full of significance. - -"I found a venerable old man, who, when I told him my history, and had -informed him of my eager desire to learn his curious and mysterious art, -promised in a very friendly manner to grant my request. I seemed to please -him; and he kept me in his house. With impatience I waited for the hour -when I should descend into the mine, and see myself clothed in the costume -which had so great a charm in my eyes. That evening he brought me a suit of -miner's clothes, and taught me the use of several instruments, which he -kept locked up in a room. - -"In the evening several miners came to him; and although for the most part -their language and the subjects of their conversation were unintelligible -and novel to me, I endeavored not to miss a single word of what was said. -The little, however, which I fancied I understood increased my curiosity, -and suggested strange dreams to me during the night. - -"I awoke betimes, and was soon with my new host, around whom the miners -gradually assembled to receive his orders. A room in his house was fitted -up as a chapel. A monk appeared, who said mass, and afterward recited a -solemn prayer, in which he besought the Almighty to take the miners into -his holy keeping, to support them in their perilous toil, to shield them -from the assaults and malice of evil spirits, and richly to bless their -labors. - -"Never before had I prayed with so much fervor, or felt in so lively a -manner the high significance of the divine office. My future companions -seemed to me, as it were, subterranean heroes who had to surmount a -thousand dangers, but whose lot was enviable from the wonderful knowledge -they possessed, and who, through their solemn and silent acquaintance with -the primeval caverns of nature, were in her dark and marvellous chambers -endued with heavenly gifts and blissfully raised above all the annoyances -of the world. - -{854} - -"At the close of the service the surveyor gave me a lamp and a small wooden -crucifix, and went with me to the shaft, as we call the steep entrance to -the subterranean abode. He showed me the manner of descent, and instructed -me in the names of the numerous objects and their divisions. Holding a -rope, which was attached by a knot to a side-post, with one hand, and a -lighted lamp with the other, he began to descend. I followed his example; -and, proceeding at a somewhat rapid pace, we soon arrived at a considerable -depth. - -"A feeling of deep solemnity pervaded my mind, and the light which moved -before me seemed, as it were, a fortunate star which guided me to the -secret treasuries of nature. We reached below a labyrinth of paths; and my -friendly master was never wearied answering all my questions, and -instructing me in his art. - -"The murmur of the water, the distance from earth's inhabited surface, the -darkness and intricacy of our route, and the sound from afar of the miners -at work, filled me with extraordinary pleasure, and I felt with joy that I -was now in full possession of that which it had ever been my earnest desire -to possess. It is impossible to explain and describe the full satisfaction -of an inborn desire--that wonderful pleasure one finds in things which have -some secret connection with one's inmost being, and in occupations to which -one is called, and for which from his cradle his nature is adapted. Perhaps -to most people these might appear obscure, vulgar, or repulsive, but to me -they seemed as necessary as air or food. - -"My aged master was much pleased with my genuine satisfaction, and -predicted that my zeal and attention would insure success. With what -rapture did I see for the first time in my life, now more than -five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals lying in delicate leaves in -the clefts of the rock! It seemed to me as though he were here kept in -close imprisonment, and shone with pleasure upon the miner who with so much -danger and labor had cloven his way to him through strong walls to bring -him to the light of day, so that he might be honored in royal crowns and -vessels and holy reliquaries, and might lead and govern the world in valued -and well earned coin. - -"Thenceforth I remained at Eula, and rose by degrees to the grade of -_hewer_--who alone among the miners carries on the work on the rock -itself from carrying out the loose metal in baskets, to which work I had -been at first appointed. - -"On the day when I became a hewer my aged master laid his hand on his -daughter's head and on mine, and blessed us as bride and bridegroom. On the -same day before sunrise I had cut open a rich vein. The duke gave me a gold -chain with his likeness on a large medal, and promised me my step-father's -situation. What happiness was mine when on our wedding-day I hung it round -the neck of my bride, and all eyes were fixed upon her! Our old father -lived to see several grandchildren, and at length passed in peace from the -dark mine of this world to await the great day of general retribution." - -Here the old miner paused awhile and wiped away some tears from his eyes. - -"Oh!" he at last exclaimed, God's blessing must needs rest upon the miner's -labors; for there is no craft which makes its workers more fortunate and -more noble-minded, which tends more to excite faith in God's wisdom and -providence, and which preserves purer innocence and youthfulness of heart -than that of the miner. Poor is he born into the world, and poor he leaves -it. It is his high joy to discover where the potent minerals are to be -found, and to bring them to light; but their dazzling brilliancy has no -influence over his heart. -{855} -Free from all perilous covetousness, his pleasure is rather derived from -their wonderful formation, the singularity of their origin and their -_habitats_, than from their possession, though it promises all things. -They have no greater charm for him than if they were common wares; and he -would rather seek for them through toil and danger in the deep fastnesses -of the earth, than strive for them on its surface by illusive and -fraudulent arts. That toil keeps his heart fresh and his mind courageous; -he enjoys his scanty pay with genuine thankfulness, and ascends every day -from the dark scenes of his calling with renewed pleasure in life. He alone -knows the real charm of light and repose, the beneficent influence of the -fresh air and the prospects which meet his eye. With what zest and -thankfulness does he eat his daily bread, and with what friendly feelings -does he associate with his fellows and taste the pleasures of familiar -conversation! In his solitude he thinks with hearty good-will of his -companions and his family, and feels ever renewed in his mind the mutual -needfulness and relationship of men. His calling teaches him unwearied -patience, and never permits him to waste his attention on unprofitable -thoughts. He has to deal with wonderfully hard and inflexible power, which -can only be overcome by obstinate labor and constant vigilance. - -"But what a splendid plant he finds growing and blooming in these dreadful -depths! It is real trust in his heavenly Father, whose hand and providence -are daily made visible to him by unmistakable signs. How often have I sat -down in my place of work and contemplated by the light of my lamp my rude -crucifix with the truest devotion! There for the first time did I rightly -comprehend the holy significance of that mysterious symbol; there has my -heart felt its noblest impulses, which have been of continual use to me. - -"Truly he must have been a godlike man who first taught the miner's craft, -and hid in the bosom of the rocks that solemn emblem of human life. Here -the vein discloses itself wide and unworked but valueless. There the rocks -confine it within a narrow obscure cleft; but there it is found of the -noblest proportions. Other veins running into it debase it, until it is -joined by one of a similar nature, which finally enhances its value. Often -it breaks before the miner in a thousand fragments; but he is not -discouraged. He pursues his work quietly, and presently sees his -perseverance rewarded as it stretches itself before him in increased -dimensions. Sometimes an illusive fragment leads him astray, but, soon -perceiving his mistake, he vigorously breaks through it till he finds the -vein leading to the true ore. How well acquainted is the miner with all the -humors of chance! but how thoroughly does he understand that zeal and -perseverance are the only real means to manage them and to take from them -their obstinately defended treasures!" - ------- - -{856} - - Miscellany. - -_Photographs of Churches in France._--This year's issue of -transcripts from ancient Gothic buildings and portions of buildings by the -Architectural Photographic Association is unusually interesting, not only -on account of the beauty and clearness of the sun-pictures of which it -consists, but of the subjects that have been chosen for the camera. These -contain no renaissance examples or specimens of sixteenth century craft in -imposing semi-barbarous fronts on noble Gothic churches of earlier date, as -in the works at Belloy, Luzarches, and Verteuil. These changes had -remarkable interest of their own, and were acceptable to the student who -cared to see how great was the debt of the remodelling architect to his -middle age forerunner. The studies now before us range from St. Georges de -Boscherville, founded in 1050 by Ralph de Tancarville, chamberlain to -William the Conqueror, to the very beautiful and interesting west front of -the church at Civray, which, like its greater neighbor, Notre Dame de -Grande, at Poitiers, also represented here, dates from the first half of -the twelfth century, through the curious rather than important early church -of St. Ours, at Loches, at the door of which stands a Roman altar that -appears to have been used as a font; the superb portals of Notre Dame, at -Chartres, of which we have five admirable photographs; St. Julien, at Le -Mans; the interior of the church of St. Pierre, at Lisieux, the west front -of the same, with its unequal but beautiful towers; and the church of St. -Riquier, near Abbeville, which may be said to have been discovered by Dr. -Whewell, and is a splendid Flamboyant work, with certain elements of -decoration that assimilate it with those of perpendicular. Of this church -we should very much enjoy a good interior view, on account of its value in -illustrating the happy union of early French Gothic with much later -Flamboyant. To these must be added a view of the very fine Flamboyant west -front of St. Wulfram, at Abbeville, an admirable example of its kind, and -the west front of the cathedral of St. Gatien, at Tours, a work which was -begun in 1440, and brought to perfection in 1500, under Robert de -Lenoncour, then archbishop. We can only find one fault in this series, that -is, the excessive number of doorways it contains. A doorway, or series of -portals, is one of the happiest fields for architectural art; but there is -a disproportion in this respect here, where, out of twenty-two examples, we -have but one interior view, that of St. Pierre, at Lisieux, and three -general views, two of which comprise portals. - -St. Georges de Boscherville is one of the best known examples of the early -Norman churches, and remarkable for the extreme simplicity of its exterior, -its fine proportions, beautiful central tower, and high octagonal spire. -Interiorly, the building is much richer than without, and comparatively -light in style; the west front is among the most highly ornamented examples -of its kind and date in Normandy, and comprises a round-headed arch with -five concentric roll-mouldings, with as many shafts in the side of the -entrance, and is decorated with beaked heads, frets, cables, and chevrons -to an unusual degree, and capital in design. The apse of this church, which -is shown in the view before us, is very curious. The western turrets are -works of the thirteenth century. - -Notre Dame, at Poitiers, is too well known to the artist and antiquary to -need commendation or description here; the design is a noble one, and -happily illustrates the Romanesque of Poitou. It has been remarked that the -window, which resembles that at Civray in position, has been converted from -the original round form to a tall shape, and that this was done to admit -the introduction of painted glass. We believe this is a mistake, and the -window retains its pristine form. The window at Civray was certainly never -circular. The canopied niches of fifteenth century work, at the sides of -this window, which once disfigured the façade, have been removed by late -restorers of the edifice, obviously to the improvement of the design. We do -not see in the two views of the church of St. Ours, at Loches, enough to -demand a double illustration: one better selected view than either of those -which appear here would be enough. -{857} -A general prospect of the church would have been valuable as an -illustration of its four tourelles, with their roofs of stone, after the -manner of those in the west front of Notre Dame, at Poitiers. Doubtless the -low porch of the church at Loches, which is not shown in the photograph, -prevented the selection of a more powerful effect of light and shade, and -interfered with the choice of points of view. Mr. Petit has carefully -analyzed this church in his Architectural Studies of France. We have also a -view of the details of the doorway exterior representing the carvings of -what may be called the imperfect capitals of the jambs. The glorious -porches of Chartres, especially that magnificent one on the south side, are -admirably represented in five photographs. These give the south doorway, -north doorway, details of the north doorway, doorways of the west front; -the last represents the long-robed statues of the royal saints and other -features of the Porte Royale, (so called, probably because Henry the Fourth -entered by it to his coronation,) after they left the restorer's hands, and -is a fine, clear photograph.--_Athenaeum_. - - -_Newspaper Zoölogy_.--The Pall Mall Gazette has published the -following interesting note: "The Courier de Saigon reports some -extraordinary items of natural history from the land of the Anamites. There -is a certain fish, called Ca-ong in the language of the country, which has -distinguished itself to that degree that the king has bestowed upon it the -proud title of 'Nam hai dui bnong gnan,' which, as everybody knows, means -'Great General of the South Sea.' It appears that this laudable fish is in -the habit of quietly paddling round the ships near the coast until somebody -tumbles overboard. He then seizes him instantly, and, instead of eating -him, gently carries him in his mouth to the shore. At Wung-tau, near St. -James's Cape, they keep a skeleton of this extraordinary philanthropist. It -is about thirty-five feet long, possesses front teeth like an elephant, -very large eyes, a black skin very smooth, a tail like a lobster, and two -wings on the back." - - -_Mechanics of Flight_.--An extremely interesting paper on this subject -was read by Mr. Wenham to the Aeronautical Society. The subject is too -difficult and complex to be explained briefly, and therefore we will only -say that Mr. Wenham has brought into the explanation of flight the effect -of the forward motion in retarding descent. Imagine a parallelogram 10 ft. -long by 2 ft. broad, weighing 20 lbs. Such a body would descend in still -air at the limiting rate of 1320 ft. per minute, the resistance of the air -put in motion by the plane balancing at that velocity the effect of -gravity. If now a force be applied horizontally so as to carry the plane -with its long side forward at a speed of thirty miles per hour, then the -motion of the plane being both downward and forward, a great volume of air -will pass under the front margin of the plane, and will be carried downward -before leaving the hinder margin. The weight of air thus put in motion will -be enormous, and the descending velocity of the plane proportionately -reduced. Mr. Wenham calculates that the velocity of descent would in these -circumstances be reduced to one fifteenth of the passive rate of descent, -or would not exceed 83 ft. per minute. Each particle of air would then be -moved downward eight tenths of an inch by the passage of the plane, and -conversely, if this inclination were given to the plane, it would move -forward without descending. Mr. Wenham finds that few birds can raise -themselves vertically in the air, the exertion in that case being -excessive. The eagle can only lift itself from the ground by running with -outstretched wings till its velocity having become sufficient, it glides -into the air as if sliding on a frictionless plane.--_Popular Science -Review_. - - -_A New Volcano in the South Seas_.--From a letter forwarded by the -English consul at Navigators' Islands, we learn that a volcano has just -broken out at Manua, about two miles from the islands of Oloscqa. It was -preceded by a violent shock of earthquake, which commenced on the 5th of -September, and on the 12th dense thick smoke rose out of the sea. Lava was -thrown up, discoloring the water for many miles round, and destroying large -quantities of fish. Wherever the ashes fell on the adjacent island, they -destroyed all vegetation. Up to the middle of November dense smoke was -still being thrown up. It is said that the smoke rose higher than the -neighboring island, which is over 2000 feet high. The consul has been -unable to ascertain whether there is any bank thrown up in the water. - -{858} - -_A Chemical Method for effectually Cleaning Glass_ is given in a -recently published work on one of the processes of photography. It is -simple, reliable, and completely efficient, and will, we doubt not, be -found very useful by our readers. It is as follows: Dilute the ordinary -hydrofluoric acid sold in gutta-percha bottles, with four or five parts of -water, drop it on a cotton rubber, (not on the glass,) and rub well over, -afterward washing till the acid is removed. The action is the same as that -of sulphuric acid when used for cleaning copper; a little of the glass is -dissolved off, and a fresh surface exposed. The solution of the acid in -water does not leave a dead surface on the glass, as the vapor would; if a -strong solution is left on long enough to produce a visible depression, the -part affected will be quite bright. This method is recommended in some -cases for cleaning photographic plates. - - - -_Nature of the Earth eaten by the People of Borneo_.--The Chemical -News gives us the composition of the clay which is eaten so extensively by -the natives of Borneo. It states that some years ago the manager of the -Orange-Nassau colliery, near Zandjermasin, in the island of Borneo, found -that many of his work-people (natives) consumed large quantities of a kind -of clay; a sample of this material was forwarded to Batavia for analysis, -and the following is the result in 100 parts: - - Pitcoal resin, (organic matter volatile - at red heat,)----15.4 - - Pure carbon,----14.9 - - Silica,----38.3 - - Alumina,----27.7 - - Iron pyrites,----3.7 - - Total,----100.0 - - -_Photography at the Paris Exhibition_.--On the whole, the art-science -of photography plays its part well at the great French International -Exhibition, and in the collective displays of various nations we find its -numerous and diverse applications, improvements, and modifications fairly -represented. The Austrian collection is a very attractive one, and contains -some of the very best specimens of photo-lithography yet produced; its -specimens of portraiture from life-size downward are of a very excellent -character, and, like those of France, Prussia, and Russia, are decidedly -superior to the English. In the Darmstadt contributions are some -interesting specimens by Dr. Reissiz, exhibited to illustrate his theory of -photogenic action. In the Prussian department a large portrait lens -attracts attention; it is fourteen inches in diameter, and covers a square -of thirty inches. The French department contains some interesting specimens -of photographic-engraving process, of enamelled photographs, and of -enlargements from microscopical photographs, amongst which is one of a flea -enlarged to the size of a small pig. Amongst the novelties and applications -of photography to decorative art are photographs of a singular character, -illustrative of a new process called "Chrysoplasty." They represent -goldsmiths' work, ancient armor, draperies embroidered with gold and -silver, bronze statuary, philosophic instruments, etc., and are apparently -in the same metals as the originals. This process is a secret one, but the -inventor, Mr. Boeringer, is prepared to produce such photographs from any -negatives which may be sent him for that purpose. He is at present making a -large collection of specimens from antique curiosities and works of art in -metal dispersed in the public and private museums of various nations, and -with this end in view appeals to the owners and guardians of such -collections, and those who have negatives of the required description, to -render him assistance. In photographic portraiture, by universal consent, -the French stand prominently foremost, so much so that, as The Times says, -"amongst those articles which are specially called _articles de -Paris_, a good photographic portrait is now to be placed." In the -English department we miss most of our foremost photographers, amongst them -Mr. O. G. Reglandes, Mr. T. R. Williams, and but too many others. Mr. -Mayall, M. Claudet, Lock and Whitfield, Ross, and other of our chief -portraitists exhibit largely, but all show but weak and mean when -contrasted with their rival portraitists as represented in the French -collection. As landscapists English photographers, like English painters, -carry off the palm. Why landscapes by English operators so far surpass -others we cannot explain, but no one with any artistic taste or judgment -would hesitate to attribute the superiority of the French portraits purely -and simply to a more refined taste and greater knowledge of pictorial -science in their producers. -{859} -The English photographs display little merit beyond such as belongs -exclusively to the skilful management of good tools, while the French -photographers are evidently, as a rule, artists studying such things as -lighting, posing and arranging, exposing and developing with considerable -artistic knowledge and preconceived design, the former with a view to -putting a picture before the lens, and the latter with a view to its -faithful reproduction in the operating room. Two of the great secrets of -their greater success will, we believe, be found to reside in the much -longer exposures they give their plates in the camera, and in the use of a -developer not so rapid in its action as to escape control during -development. The great cry in England has been for short exposures and -powerful developers, things which war against the subtle delicacies of -gradations from light to dark, and from darks into reflected lights, which -constitute one of the most special and striking peculiarities of the best -French portraits. Refer back to past volumes of the English photographic -journals, and this craving for extraordinary rapidity coupled with frequent -mention of the extraordinary long exposures given on the continent, where -the light is more powerful and the atmosphere more pure, will be found. You -will also perceive that, while articles tending directly and indirectly to -give mechanical manipulation and good tools all the credit of increased -success crowd their pages to a wearying degree of sameness and repetition, -papers of a truly art-educational character are extremely rare, in -consequence, we have been informed, of the little real appreciation they -meet with from English photographic students. Hence probably the inartistic -and tasteless character displayed by their photographs when contrasted with -those of our more artistic and tasteful neighbors.--_Popular Science -Review._ - ------- - - Original. - - New Publications. - - - Melpomene Divina; or, Poems' on Christian Themes. - By Christopher Laoinedon Pindar. - Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1867. - -This is an elegant little volume, but not a volume of elegant poetry. We -feel unwilling to speak adversely of the effusions of a youthful author, -(we suppose his youth from several poems given as "youthful efforts" as -late as the year 1861,) but the truth must be honestly told, if told at -all, both for young and old; and the truth is, that this book contains many -easy rhymes, but very little poetic thought. The verses, too often faulty -in rhythm, abound with sentences that can hardly be called good English, -as, for instance, (p. 90:) - - "He gazed and gazed, and deeper still - The soft attachment grew, - And nearer to the charmful maid - His loving soul him drew." - -And again, (p. 172;) - - "Only pray I thee, whom first saint - In America God chose, - Grant that countless maids may rival - In my land thee, heavenly Rose!" - -In a little translation entitled The Fisher's Wife we find a verse which -will illustrate the desire we now express that the writer had husbanded his -poetical ability, and allowed it to find expression in a lesser number of -poems more carefully worded. He might then have given us a volume of some -merit. We quote: - - "'O horror and woe! now breaks my poor heart! - Out must I to gain relief!' - She cries, and rushes from out the house, - The mother in fear and grief. - - "And silently drifts a corse to the shore - Strewn with trees and sedge and tan; - There lies he all naked on the black sand: - 'O merciful God! my man!'" - -{860} - -With so many evidences of the author's acquaintance with the classic poets -upon these pages, we are surprised to meet with such words as "bluey," -"bleaky," "browny," and the like; together with elisions, as "'T" for "it," -to begin a line; "need'd" for "needed;" and such unwarrantable extensions -as giving three syllables to words like "Christian," "solely," etc. We feel -so much pleased, however, with his modest introduction to the volume that -we will allow him to speak here for himself: "That the book is very -imperfect, I am fully convinced of; that it be but taken by another as a -spur to elicit a more perfect one in illustration of a similar theme, is my -earnest desire. The many and almost unceasing demands of a higher order -have allowed me to bestow only a few 'tempora subseciva' on a work to which -I would have gladly devoted day and night. As such it can hardly be -anything else than deficient in many respects. Yet if I be the cause of -giving to but one person the pleasure of a moment in perusing these pages, -and still more, if one be thence inspired to send a whisper of love to the -saintly beings carolled in them, I shall consider myself happy, and my -labors more than sufficiently repaid." - ----- - - The Two Roads, - Gabriel, - Martha, - Bread Of Forgiveness, - Flowers From Heaven, - Fragments Of Correspondence. - P. O. Shea, Publisher, New York. - -This is a series of beautiful stories, from the French, on the beatitudes. -They are well translated, and published in good style. - ----- - - Science Of Happiness; or, The Beatitudes in Practice. - By Mader Bourdon. - P. O. Shea, New York. - -This volume contains the stories mentioned above bound together, so as to -make another book. - ----- - - Studies In The Gospels. - By Richard Chenevix Trench, D.D. - New-York: Charles Scribner & Co. - -The author of this volume is well known from his valuable philological -works. This volume of Studies is composed of sixteen chapters of expository -notes on different parables and events recorded in the gospels. He has made -free use of the standard commentaries, both Catholic and Protestant. We -cannot attach any critical value to the work, as we observe that, where -Maldonatus and the fathers go against the system to which he is committed, -he passes over what they have said, and gives us instead the opinion of -Calvin or his own. The volume contains, however, many suggestive thoughts, -clothed in pure, good English. The typographical appearance of the volume -is remarkably good. - - ----- - - Mr. P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, has in press, and will soon publish, - The new Life of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, edited by Edward Healy Thompson, - and which has just appeared in London. It will make a volume of about - four hundred pages. - - - Messrs. Benziger Bros., New York and Cincinnati, are about to publish - Rome and the Popes: translated from the German of Dr. Karl Brandes, by - Rev. W. T. Wiseman, Professor of Church History in Seton Hall Seminary. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Catholic World, Volume 5, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CATHOLIC WORLD, VOLUME 5 *** - -***** This file should be named 53935-8.txt or 53935-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/3/53935/ - -Produced by Don Kostuch -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |